The night was still, wrapped in a blanket of silence that only the occasional whisper of wind dared to disturb. The moon, half-hidden behind drifting clouds, casted a dim, silver glow over the clearing. The dying embers of their small campfire flickered weakly, struggling to hold onto the last traces of warmth.
The knight stood, near the edge of their makeshift camp. His posture was rigid, hands loosely at his sides, but his entire body was attuned to his surroundings. Every breath of wind, every shifting leaf—he was aware of it all.
Behind him, Lidia slept.
Completely unaware of her surrounding.
She had curled onto her side at some point, her breathing soft, steady, lost in whatever ridiculous dream she was having. One of her arms was thrown over her stomach, the other slightly tucked beneath her head, her long hair spilling over the rolled-up cloak she had turned into a pillow. The peaceful rise and fall of her chest was a stark contrast to the tension in the air.
