The eighth day of the journey dawned with a thick mist crawling across the ground, chilling their weapons and dampening the blankets. Kai woke before the others, as was his habit. He stood by the remains of the campfire, watching the silhouette of the caravan. It wasn't just them anymore; there were now three additional rickety wagons and a group of people whose hopes hung directly from his shoulders.
"You're counting the rations in your head again, aren't you?"
Lyla's voice, soft and heavy with sleep, pulled him from his thoughts. She approached, wrapping herself in her blanket and rubbing her arms for warmth. Kai sighed.
