The predawn mist hung thick and silent over the quiet mountain meadow, clinging to the cedar boughs like spun silver.
Beyond the waking encampment, Captain Seret and Helen stood beneath the shadow of a weathered limestone boulder, watching the morning stir.
Both officers held steaming tin cups of chicory tea, their expressions solemn as they observed Hajin walking slowly toward them through the pine trees.
"The sentries reported that you slept for five unbroken hours without stirring once, lad," Captain Seret greeted, his gravelly voice softened by genuine respect.
"For a young man who looked ready to collapse into the void yesterday, your color has returned remarkably fast," the veteran captain added, adjusting the thick wool mantle draped over his broad shoulders.
"A warm meal of salted venison and five hours of real peace work faster than an apothecary's draft, Captain," he replied, offering a faint nod of greeting as he rested his left hand against his belt.
