Morning crept in slowly, tugging Del toward wakefulness before he was entirely ready. The bed was warm, the blankets tangled around him in a way that spoke of a deep, comfortable sleep. His limbs carried the satisfying ache of rest, though the conversation from the night before still lingered in his thoughts, leaving a curious kind of contentment.

  The soft glow of early sunlight bled through the small window, filtering past wooden shutters that rattled faintly in the morning breeze. The world outside was already stirring—hoofbeats clattered in the streets, voices rose in muted conversations, and the distant clang of metal on metal suggested the first movements in the blacksmith’s forge. Somewhere below, the inn itself was waking. The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat carried up through the floorboards, warm and inviting. A chair scraped against stone, a muffled curse followed as someone—likely still feeling last night’s indulgence—knocked over a tankard.

  Del exhaled, adjusting slightly beneath the covers.

  And then Misty landed on his chest.

  A solid thump knocked the breath from his lungs as a very smug bundle of ginger fur settled atop him, her paws kneading lightly against his ribs.

  ‘Wake up, Del. The hunt begins,’ came her smooth, knowing voice in his mind.

  Del cracked one eye open to find two golden feline eyes staring imperiously down at him, her tail curling neatly around her paws. “It’s a bloody breakfast, not a hunt,” he muttered.

  ‘Hunt. Food. Same difference,’ she replied airily.

  She lifted a paw and gave his face a deliberate prod.

  Del grunted, reaching up to push her off, but Misty simply sidestepped out of reach with the grace of a creature who knew she was superior in every way.

  ‘You are slow in the mornings. You should work on that.’

  “I was sleeping,” he grumbled.

  ‘Clearly. And yet, here you are, awake. Because of me. You may thank me now.’

  He was about to respond when a sudden warm weight draped across his back.

  A soft hum, low and lazy, tickled his ear.

  “Oh no,” came Elara’s sleep-thick voice, amusement laced in the words. “You belong to the cat now, Del. I don’t think you get a say anymore.”

  Del twisted slightly to glance back at her. She had yet to fully emerge from sleep, her golden hair a tousled mess against the pillow. One arm was thrown across his waist, her fingers grazing absently against his stomach as she murmured something incoherent and buried her face into his shoulder.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked dryly.

  She gave a slow, exaggerated stretch, her body pressing against his just enough to remind him of how little she cared for personal space.

  “Very much so.”

  Misty, unimpressed with being ignored, flicked her tail against Del’s face.

  ‘You will remove yourself from the bed now. There is food. Priorities, human.’

  Elara giggled sleepily. “She’s acting all bossy this morning.”

  “She’s bossy every morning.”

  ‘I can still hear you,’ Misty added, tone dripping with feline superiority.

  Del exhaled through his nose and nudged Elara gently. “Alright, lazybones, time for breakfast.”

  She grumbled something indecipherable, then let out a slow sigh before finally rolling onto her back, stretching once more before blinking up at him with a sleepy, teasing smile.

  “You could carry me downstairs,” she mused.

  Del snorted. “And have you making dramatic demands for special treatment the whole way? Not a chance.”

  Elara pouted playfully but didn’t argue, pushing herself up on one elbow. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but she let the moment pass. Instead, she poked his side with one cool fingertip.

  “Fine, but only because I smelled sausage,” she conceded.

  ‘Finally. The important matters are being addressed,’ Misty sighed.

  Del swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching with a satisfied groan, before hauling on his clothes and shoving his feet into his boots. Misty leapt effortlessly to the floor, tail flicking as she padded toward the door with the kind of purposeful strut that only she could master.

  As Del rose, Elara shifted, yawning as she sat up, ruffling her already messy hair. The warm scent of lavender clung to her, mingling with the lingering traces of the night’s sleep. She let out a small, pleased sigh, rubbing a hand across her face before glancing toward him.

  “Go on ahead,” she murmured. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Del nodded, stepping toward the door.

  Misty, however, sat directly in the doorway, tail wrapped neatly around her paws. She narrowed her eyes, then lifted her head as if assessing him.

  ‘Do not dawdle,’ she warned.

  Del sighed. ‘I swear, you’re worse than an old woman.’

  ‘An old woman would not be able to fit into small spaces and steal your warmth. Be grateful.’

  With that, she turned and pranced downstairs, the soft thump-thump-thump of her paws disappearing into the scent of breakfast below.

  Del smirked, shaking his head before following.

  The smell of breakfast was already curling through the air as Del stepped into the main room of the inn, the rich, mouth-watering aroma of bacon, sausage, and fresh bread pulling him fully into wakefulness. The warmth of the hearth had driven away the lingering chill of morning, and the scent of herbal tea mixed with the more indulgent scent of sizzling fat and crisped edges.

  The taproom was quiet compared to the rowdy, ale-soaked revelry of the night before. Most of the patrons had already moved on or were nursing their hangovers in silence, hunched over plates of food with slow, deliberate movements. A few empty tankards still littered the far tables, evidence of last night’s excess, and the faintest lingering scent of stale beer clung to the air beneath the more enticing breakfast aromas.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  The door to the kitchen was open, Donna was already at work, moving with her usual brisk efficiency, a flour-dusted apron tied over her skirts as she flipped sizzling rashers of bacon with a practiced hand.

  Misty trotted ahead of Del, tail high, ears forward, her golden eyes locked onto Donna with a clear sense of expectation.

  The innkeeper’s wife turned just in time to spot her. Her face lit up with unmistakable delight.

  “Well now, there’s my favourite little lady,” she cooed, wiping her hands on a cloth before reaching down to scratch Misty behind the ears. “Come for your special breakfast, have you?”

  Misty arched into the touch, purring loudly.

  ‘She understands the correct way to greet me,’ the cat observed smugly in Del’s mind.

  ‘She spoils you,’ Del dropped into a seat at one of the sturdy wooden tables.

  ‘As she should.’

  Donna turned back to the large iron pan where sausages sizzled and popped in their own juices. She plated a portion, then reached for another small dish, setting aside a few choice cuts with a look of absolute devotion.

  Making final adjustments to Misty's plate, Donna smiled at the cat. "There, presentation fit for a lady indeed" she said.

  Misty blinked up at Del with victorious satisfaction, before leaping effortlessly onto the bench beside him.

  Elara wandered in a moment later, her golden hair still slightly dishevelled from sleep, though she had at least attempted to tame it with a loose plait. She moved with the slow, unbothered grace of someone who did not believe in rushing the morning, stretching slightly before dropping into the seat across from Del.

  “Good morning, Donna,” she greeted with a soft, appreciative smile as the woman placed a freshly brewed cup of herbal tea in front of her.

  “Mornin’, love,” Donna replied, already sliding a plate of toast her way, knowing exactly what Elara would want.

  Del’s own plate landed in front of him a moment later—hash, eggs, thick-cut bacon, and a couple of sausages.

  Misty’s plate arrived right after—sausage, sliced and arranged as if plated for nobility.

  Del gave the cat a pointed look. ‘You do realise you’re just a cat, right?’

  Misty licked one paw delicately, completely ignoring the comment before daintily sampling a piece of sausage.

  ‘And yet, here I am, eating better than most of the humans in this establishment. Curious, isn’t it?’

  Del rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, instead cutting into his perfectly crisped bacon and letting the smoky, salty flavour melt on his tongue.

  The morning passed in easy conversation, the kind that carried no weight, just light remarks about the journey ahead, the food, and the general peacefulness of the morning compared to the revellry of the night before. Donna flitted back and forth between the tables, chatting briefly but never lingering too long, always moving, always working.

  “You’re off today, aren’t you?” she asked at one point, pausing long enough to wipe her hands on her apron as she glanced at Del.

  He nodded, swallowing a bite of egg before replying. “Heading to Stenfield. Should take about a week, from what I have heard”

  Donna hummed, arms crossing over her chest. “Paolo mentioned something about that. You’ll be going through Hybern, then?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  She frowned slightly, then shook her head. “Just be careful. I know travellers pass through all the time, but it’s been an odd season. Roads feel less safe than they used to.”

  Elara arched a brow over her cup of tea. “How so?”

  Donna hesitated, then shook her head again. “Could just be me being an old worrier, but I keep hearing things. Bandits a bit bolder than usual. Probably nothing, but…” she trailed off, giving a small shrug.

  Del exchanged a glance with Elara but said nothing for now.

  The conversation drifted again, easy and unburdened, but the words lingered.

  By the time their plates were cleared, Misty was thoroughly pleased with her breakfast, stretching lazily before padding after Donna as she moved back to the kitchen—no doubt hoping to charm her way into an extra treat.

  “I think your cat just abandoned you,” Elara remarked as she pulled on her gloves.

  Del smirked. “That implies she was ever mine to begin with.”

  Elara laughed, shaking her head as they both rose from the table.

  “Well, shall we?” Del asked, stretching briefly.

  Elara nodded, brushing a few crumbs from her tunic. “Let’s go see what Paolo has for us.”

  The morning air was cool and fresh, the last wisps of dawn mist curling through the streets as Del, Elara, and Misty stepped out of the inn. The town of Stonebridge was bustling with morning activity—merchants setting up their stalls, the rhythmic clatter of tools in use, and workers setting about their day echoing around the square.

  Paolo’s stood just ahead, near the gates to the elders’ residence. As they approached, Del spotted Naomi and her parents, standing close together, their final goodbyes unspoken but written across their faces.

  Naomi practically vibrated with excitement, shifting on her feet, her eyes darting between Del and the road beyond the gate. This was a grand adventure for her, something new, something bigger than the quiet life she’d always known.

  Her mother, however, looked far less enthusiastic.

  Mrs Cooper stood stiffly beside her husband; arms wrapped around herself as though holding in her emotions. The corners of her eyes glistened, but she blinked rapidly, keeping the tears at bay. Her husband’s hand rested firmly on her shoulder, though his face was carved into careful neutrality.

  They both understood that Naomi going was hard, but necessary. Understanding did not make parting any easier.

  Paolo was stood by a stack of supplies, his expression as composed as ever. Next to him, Merl loomed, arms crossed, his smile broad in the early light.

  “Ah, finally.” Merl laughed. “Thought you’d gone and decided to stay in bed all day.”

  Elara smirked. “We considered it, but Misty had other plans.”

  Misty flicked her tail, her tone laced with amusement.

  ‘I have priorities. Unlike some.’

  Merl passed Del a carefully wrapped bundle. “Here,” he said simply.

  Del took it, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a finely crafted sword, its edge gleaming in the morning light. Alongside it, two knives—one balanced for fighting, the other heavier, built for utility. Del ran a finger along the blade, testing its edge, about to ask how much—but one look at Merl’s expression silenced him before he could even open his mouth.

  It was a gift. One that wasn’t up for debate.

  With a quiet nod, Del set the weapons aside. “Thank you.”

  Merl simply grunted. “Better than that battered thing you were carrying before. And that’s being generous.”

  Paolo went to Elara, handing her a new quiver filled with arrows and a bow, its craftsmanship far superior to the crude goblin off cast she’d been using.

  Elara took it carefully, running her fingers over the polished wood, testing the draw with a small pull before giving a satisfied nod. “Now this,” she murmured, “is a bow worth carrying.”

  Paolo allowed himself the barest hint of a smile.

  With their supplies sorted, the group moved toward Stonebridge’s southern gate.

  Beyond it, the dirt road stretched out, winding through rolling hills before disappearing into the distance. Somewhere beyond those hills lay Hybern, and past that, Stenfield.

  Paolo walked with them the last few steps before stopping just before the threshold. He grasped Del’s hand firmly, his grip strong, unwavering.

  “It’s about a week to Stenfield,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’ll pass through Hybern on the way. Maybe longer, depending on how she manages.” His gaze flicked pointedly toward Naomi, though there was no unkindness in it.

  Naomi lifted her chin in quiet defiance but said nothing.

  Paolo then handed Del a sealed letter. The wax bore his personal insignia.

  “This tells the Laird everything that’s happened here,” he explained. “It also gives you my commendations.”

  Del turned the letter in his hand, nodding. “I appreciate it, Paolo. It’s been good meeting you.” He hesitated for just a second before adding, “And I’m glad we could help.”

  Paolo’s expression softened—just a fraction. “So am I.”

  Merl huffed, stepping forward and pulling Del into a meaty, bone-crushing hug before doing the same to Elara.

  “Well, my friend,” he said, voice thick with something almost like emotion, “it’s been… interesting times.”

  Elara laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

  Merl clapped a heavy hand on Del’s back. “Take care on the road. And know you’re welcome at my forge anytime.”

  Del nodded, meaning it when he said, “I’ll hold you to that.”

  With a final round of farewells, they turned toward the open road, stepping through the gate and leaving Stonebridge behind.

  They had barely gone twenty yards before Naomi suddenly spun on her heel and bolted back.

  Her mother barely had time to react before Naomi threw herself into her arms, clinging tightly.

  For a moment, she said nothing, just buried her face against her mother’s shoulder, breathing her in, holding onto the moment.

  Then, with a deep, steadying breath, she pulled away, squared her shoulders, and marched back toward Del and Elara, her steps full of determination.

  Del watched as she rejoined them, her gaze fixed forward now, eyes bright with purpose.

  And with that, they left Stonebridge behind, stepping into the unknown road ahead.