Mist

The journey eastward began under a heavy sky, the clouds low and swollen with the weight of an impending storm. As we made our way through the dense forest that lay just beyond the village, the air grew thick and damp, each step sinking slightly into the moss-laden earth. The mountains were still miles away, but their looming presence was palpable, a dark silhouette that beckoned us forward, urging us into the unknown.

Raven, ever silent and watchful, led the way. She moved like a shadow herself, every step measured, as if she sensed something in the distance that the rest of us could not yet see. Leif was close behind her, his sword strapped firmly across his back, the familiar weight a reassurance as much as it was a reminder of what lay ahead. Zara followed, her fingers skimming the edges of the map she'd borrowed, a frown of concentration on her face as she occasionally checked our direction.