As the detachment left the sheltered heights, the trail narrowed, winding downward toward the base of the mountain range. The path was a treacherous spine of loose shale and sun-bleached rock that threatened to give way under the horses' hooves at every turn.
Hermi kept her focus forward, her gloved hands steady on the reins, though the rhythmic jarring of the descent sent annoying pulses of ache through the stitches on her upper arm. She rode at the head of the march, as usual, but mindfully kept a safe distance behind Cassian, rather than riding beside him.
Sleeping so blissfully next to him all night without a care had been mortifying enough. After his increasingly unusual behavior, and that casual comment about her 'strangeness', she reminded herself that distance was far better than risking further scrutiny.
Luckily, her husband didn't seem to pay her any mind. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, only shouting back occasionally against the wind to address the men.
