After the meat had been cut and served in uneven chunks, passed around in hollowed leaves or small iron bowls borrowed from Borik's pack, the group finally began to settle. There was something comforting about a full belly and the gentle sound of firewood cracking. The night had grown heavier now, thick with the scent of smoke, roasted meat, and the earthy dampness of the forest floor.
The cold crept in slowly. Unlike the searing heat of the day, this chill was sneaky — it wrapped around ankles first, then moved up through sleeves and collars, making a few of them shiver despite the flickering fire.
Mariel was the first to break the silence.
