Dawn came too soon after their disturbed night, dragging Del out of an aching, unsatisfying sleep. His body felt stiff and sore, the hard ground having pressed its discomfort into his back, shoulders, and hip. He shifted, grimacing.

  ‘You got used to a bed again, Del.’ The thought was irritatingly true. The time spent in the Cock and Ball had softened him, the simple luxury of sleeping on a proper mattress now just a mocking memory.

  ‘Camping is for young folks.’ He was quick to agree, but arguing with himself was a losing battle at the best of times. So instead, he grunted his way into motion, rolling onto one elbow before forcing himself upright.

  Elara, still curled under her blankets, cracked an eye open as he muttered to himself, his movements sluggish and grumpy. A small smirk pulled at her lips as she watched him shuffle around the tent, pulling on his gear with the energy of an old man reluctant to face the day.

  “You talking to yourself again?” she asked, voice husky with sleep.

  “Always,” Del muttered, fastening his belt.

  Elara stretched lazily before sitting up, rubbing a hand through her tangled mess of hair. She yawned, blinking sleepily at Del as he fastened his belt.

  “Breakfast duty or camp pack-up?” she asked, voice still husky with sleep.

  Del pretended to weigh the options, then flashed her a grin. “I don’t mind. But I haven’t tasted your cooking yet, so go get at it, girl.”

  Elara snorted, entirely unfazed, and started pulling on her clothes. “Your loss,” she shot back. She ducked out of the tent, leaving Del to finish dressing.

  The morning air greeted him as he emerged, cool and fresh with the lingering dampness of morning dew clinging to the grass. A soft mist curled low across the ground, already beginning to dissipate under the promise of rising heat.

  Across the clearing, Naomi was already up, though not being particularly efficient about it. She was half-dressed, still wrapped in her blanket, sitting cross-legged by the fire while she absentmindedly fussed over Misty.

  The cat, flattened beneath the girl’s affectionate grip, flicked her tail in long, slow whips of protest.

  “You know,” Del said, making his way toward them, “if you squeeze her any harder, Misty’s going to start plotting your demise.”

  Naomi pouted, loosening her grip slightly, but Misty took the opportunity to wiggle free, shaking herself out as if she’d endured a great hardship. With an exaggerated flick of her tail, she stalked a few paces away and began fastidiously grooming herself, pointedly ignoring Naomi.

  “You’re just grumpy in the mornings,” Naomi muttered, narrowing her eyes at the cat.

  Misty, entirely unapologetic, continued washing her paws.

  Shaking his head, Del turned his attention to breaking down camp. The tents came down quickly, his hands moving on instinct, every action a well-worn habit. Naomi, noticing the activity, perked up and scrambled over to help, her blanket trailing behind her as she tried to fold her tent fabric.

  Her first attempt was a disaster, the fabric crumpling into a hopelessly uneven mess. She scowled, huffing at it.

  “You will soon be good at this,” Del noted, finishing up his own roll.

  Naomi, determined, made another attempt, this time getting the edges to mostly align.

  “Mummy always made me help when we camped outside the farm,” she said, sticking her tongue out slightly in concentration.

  Del nodded. “Then I expect expert-level work next time.”

  Naomi giggled, pleased with herself, and Misty—perhaps feeling left out of the conversation—let out a short, dignified meow from her perch near the fire.

  `The smell of cooking drifted toward them, rich and tempting. Del’s stomach let out a loud, traitorous rumble, and Naomi snickered.

  “Alright,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s get washed up before breakfast.”

  The stream was biting cold, the kind of chill that shocked the senses awake the moment it touched skin. Del gritted his teeth as he splashed the water over his face, feeling the sting of it seep into his pores. It wasn't quite the frozen hell of winter, but it was damn close enough for a groggy morning.

  Naomi, standing beside him, dipped her hands into the water with hesitant reluctance, her nose scrunched in suspicion.

  “It's not that bad,” Del said, rubbing the water through his hair.

  Naomi tentatively cupped a handful, hesitated, then pressed it to her face.

  A shriek of betrayal cut through the peaceful morning. “Why is it so cold?!”

  Del let out a snort, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

  Naomi shot him a glare of pure accusation. “This is cruel,” she declared, as if he had personally orchestrated the entire temperature of nature just to inconvenience her. “Misty doesn’t have to wash her face in ice water!”

  Misty, perched on a sun-warmed rock, stretched luxuriously, her tail flicking in what could only be described as smug agreement.

  Del raised an eyebrow at the cat. ‘I’m starting to think you planned this.’

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Misty responded by giving her chest fur a slow, deliberate lick, as if to say yes, and what of it?

  Naomi sighed dramatically, rubbing her arms. “If I freeze to death, I hope you feel bad.”

  Del rolled his eyes and flicked a few drops of water at her cheek.

  Naomi gasped. “You absolute villain!”

  She scooped up both hands full of icy water and flung them at him.

  Del yelped as the freezing splash hit his neck, soaking down into his shirt. “Oh, that’s how it is, huh?”

  Naomi grinned mischievously—then let out a squeal of betrayal as Del flicked another splash back at her.

  Elara’s voice drifted over from the fire, full of mild amusement. “If you’re both done with your childish squabbling, breakfast is ready.”

  Naomi perked up immediately, all thoughts of cold water abandoned.

  Del sighed, squeezing the excess chill from his shirt. “You just wait, kid. This isn’t over.”

  The smell of cooking met them as they approached the fire, the rich scent of sizzling meat and wild herbs blending into the crisp morning air. Naomi plopped down immediately, still rubbing at her damp face, while Del eyed the pan with cautious suspicion.

  Elara, kneeling by the fire, arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re looking at it like it might bite you.”

  “I’m just mentally preparing myself,” Del said, folding his arms. “I’ve been burned before. Literally. And by bad food.”

  Elara let out an exaggerated sigh of suffering. “You wound me.”

  She grabbed a piece of crisply browned meat, tore off a small bite, and popped it into her mouth. Her expression remained neutral as she chewed.

  Then she sighed. “Damn, I’m good.”

  Naomi giggled. Del remained suspicious.

  Slowly, he reached forward, grabbed a piece, and took a cautious bite.

  And, to his chagrin, it was actually good.

  The meat was flavoured perfectly, the balance of herbs spot on, and the texture tender instead of the usual overcooked chewiness he had come to expect from campfire meals.

  He leaned back, rubbing his stomach with mock satisfaction.

  “Alright then,” he declared. “Who agrees that Elara has cooking duties from now on?”

  Naomi's hand shot up immediately.

  Even Misty let out a distinct mewl of agreement.

  Del paused, blinking. “...You didn’t have to agree so readily.”

  Elara smirked. “Sounds like a unanimous vote.”

  Naomi nodded seriously. “It's very important to have a good cook.”

  Del scoffed, looking at Misty. “Et tu, furball?”

  Misty flicked her tail and turned her gaze to Elara, eyes half-lidded in silent approval.

  Del groaned. “This is betrayal on every level.”

  Elara patted his shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry, Del. Some of us are just more talented than others.”

  Naomi giggled, and Misty hopped onto Elara’s lap, curling up with the air of one choosing the winning side.

  Del sighed, shaking his head. “This is why I work alone.”

  The next two days proved to be a fairly monotonous trudge.

  Monotonous, Del reminded himself, was better than being torn apart by Ashfangs.

  At the very least, Naomi’s feet were toughening up, which meant less carrying—a relief, considering how much ground they still had to cover.

  The weather remained typically late-spring, the air thick with the promise of summer lurking just beyond the season’s edge. Birdsong drifted lazily through the trees, a soft counterpoint to the steady crunch of boots on dirt. Sometimes, they caught glimpses of wildlife darting through the undergrowth—a flicker of movement, a set of curious eyes watching from the brush, but nothing that posed a threat.

  Still, it was far too quiet.

  With no immediate danger to keep his mind occupied, Del found himself with more time than he liked to think.

  Elara, perceptive as ever, seemed to notice. She spent much of the journey either walking quietly beside him or taking Naomi a little way off their route to forage for herbs and other useful finds. Whether she was giving him space to process or simply indulging in a practical distraction, he wasn’t sure. Probably both.

  Naomi, for her part, was a sponge. She absorbed everything, her mind eagerly drinking in every scrap of new knowledge. Elara guided her training, encouraging her to strengthen her talents and refine her ability to control her mana.

  Most nights, instead of sleeping right away, Naomi let her spirit drift across the land, exploring the nearby fields and trees in search of anything glowing with latent magic. The ones she found particularly interesting, she marked mentally, so they could track them down in the morning.

  That had been the routine for the past two days—until they reached the stream.

  It wasn’t particularly wide, but it was a fast-moving tributary, the water churning over jagged rocks as it cut through the landscape. A shallow ford lay just ahead, where the water fanned out over smooth, sun-bleached stones, creating an ankle-deep crossing point just before it joined the main river they had been following.

  Del eyed it warily. “Looks manageable,” he muttered.

  Elara nodded. “We’ll take it slow. The current’s strong enough to trip you if you’re careless.”

  Naomi bounced forward, unconcerned. “It doesn’t look that bad!”

  Del narrowed his eyes. “Famous last words.”

  Naomi grinned and, before anyone could stop her, took an overconfident step forward. The moment her foot hit the slick riverbed, it slipped—her arms flailed wildly as she tilted sideways.

  “Whoa—!”

  Elara, moving instinctively fast, snatched Naomi’s collar mid-stumble, yanking her firmly upright before she could splash headfirst into the current.

  Naomi gasped, clutching at Elara’s arm. “...I meant to do that,” she declared.

  Del sighed. “Of course you did.”

  Elara smirked, steadying her grip on Naomi’s shoulder. “Try not drowning next time.”

  Naomi pouted but obeyed, moving forward with a lot more caution as they waded across. Del followed last, keeping a steady watch on the footing, but it was Misty who proved to be the real source of disaster.

  The cat, having perched on a flat rock, judged the distance—then leapt.

  It should have been graceful.

  Instead, she miscalculated.

  Her paws landed on a stone slick with moss, her claws scrabbled for purchase, and with a yowl of pure indignity, Misty slipped straight into the water with an unceremonious splash.

  Silence.

  Then—

  Naomi gasped dramatically. “Misty!” The cat surfaced instantly, flailing in an unholy mix of shock and fury as she paddled furiously toward the nearest dry rock. Water streamed from her soaked fur, sopping wet, she looked half her usual size, her ears flattened in absolute betrayal of the world.

  Del, unable to help himself, let out a bark of laughter.

  Misty whipped her head toward him, ears pinned back in outrage.

  Naomi reached forward to help, scooping Misty into her arms. The cat allowed it, mostly because she was too busy glaring at the river like it had personally wronged her.

  Misty’s entire body dripped as she trembled with residual rage, her soaked tail twitching in pure disgust.

  Elara smirked. “Not quite as smooth as you thought, was it?”

  Misty’s golden glare could have burned a hole through stone.

  Del chuckled. “I take it you’re not a fan of water, then?”

  Misty responded by flicking her tail violently, sending a spray of icy droplets flying directly into Del’s face.

  He sputtered, blinking against the sudden dousing.

  Naomi snickered, and even Elara had to turn away to hide a grin.

  Del wiped his face with mock patience. “Alright. Message received.”

  Misty, still seething, wriggled free from Naomi’s grasp and stalked ahead—dripping, sulking, and plotting revenge.

  She sulked for the next hour, ears pinned back, ignoring all attempts at comfort.

  Naomi tried offering an apology, which was met with a flick of the tail and an unimpressed glare.

  Del, amused, nudged Naomi lightly. “I think you should watch your boots tonight. Pretty sure she’s going to leave something special in them.”

  Naomi giggled—but cast a wary glance at Misty just in case.

  The only moment of real concern came when Naomi spotted a small group of ashfangs lingering further ahead. When she told them, Del had felt his stomach tighten, but after a bit of discussion, they concluded that the creatures were moving away from their path, not toward them.

  That was fine.

  For now.