The heavy, suffocating chill of the invisible shadow faded the moment the massive iron-wood wagon rolled out of the bustling market valley and back beneath the dense, protective canopy of the forests.
Roxy forced her trembling hands to uncurl from the wooden railing. She took a deep, grounding breath of the crisp autumn air, desperately shoving the terrifying presence to the back of her mind.
She could not let her panic bleed into the pack's aura. She had to remain sane.
To completely banish the lingering dread, Roxy shifted her weight on the cushions, pulled a sleeping Tyara a little closer to her chest, and began to sing.
It was a simple, upbeat melody, a rhythmic, clapping campfire song from her original world that she had taught the children weeks ago. Her clear, melodic voice drifted out over the rumbling of the wooden wheels.
