The morning they left camp, the sky was a pale gray-orange color, like a sky that hadn't quite decided whether it was dawn or something else. Lucian was up before most of the birds.
He rolled up his bedroll and checked his pack with a level of quiet concentration that had only grown in him over the past two weeks. He was still surprised that this new habit of getting ready before dawn had taken the place of his old one of sleeping through every alarm he ever had.
Glacielle was already awake next to him, carefully folding her extra clothes, which was typical of how she did everything. She carefully put each item in the pack in a certain order.
When Lucian accidentally dropped a healing potion into the wrong side pocket, she took it back out without looking at him and put it where it belonged.
"Here is where the healing potions go, Master," she said, tapping the left pocket. "Not there."
"Does it really matter which pocket?"
