Shadow in the wind
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Kael woke with his jaw clenched and the taste of iron in his mouth. For a second he thought he'd bitten his tongue in his sleep, but when he spat into the dirt it was just bitterness and old smoke. No blood. The dragon shifted anyway, annoyed at the confusion, a low pressure behind his ribs like a hand testing a bruise.
Morning came in pieces. Cold first. Then sound—the faint scrape of Mira's knife against a whetstone, steady and patient, like she was sanding down the day before it got sharp. Somewhere farther off, a bird kept repeating the same ugly note. Kael hated that bird immediately.
He sat up too fast and paid for it. The world tilted, corrected itself. His head felt packed with damp cloth.
"Don't," Mira said without looking at him.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to move again." She glanced over. "You always do that."
He rubbed his face with both hands. There was grit everywhere. In his hair, his sleeves, his mouth. "I don't always—"
She raised an eyebrow.
He let it go. Some arguments weren't worth finishing. He reached for his boots and found one upright, the other on its side with a pebble lodged inside. An unnecessary detail, but it annoyed him more than it should have. He flicked the pebble away and pulled the boot on anyway.
The camp was small. Smaller than last night felt. The fire had burned down to a ring of white ash and one stubborn coal. Kael nudged it with a stick until it died properly. He didn't know why that mattered. It just did.
"You sleep?" he asked.
Mira shrugged. "Enough."
That meant no.
He stood and stretched until his shoulders complained. The dragon stretched with him, slower, deeper. It had been restless since dawn. Since before dawn, probably. It didn't like the quiet. Kael didn't either, not really, but for different reasons. Quiet meant space to think. Space always filled itself.
They ate without ceremony. Hard bread. Dried meat. The meat tasted faintly wrong, like it had picked up the smell of the leather pouch. Kael chewed it anyway. Hunger made you less picky, and he didn't want to waste anything. When he swallowed, his throat scratched.
Mira wiped her knife on her trousers and sheathed it. "We're being followed."
He didn't look up. "I know."
"How long?"
"Since the ridge. Maybe before."
She nodded once, like she'd expected that answer. "They're not hiding well."
"They don't need to," Kael said. "They want us to know."
The dragon stirred, pleased. A challenge, then. Kael pressed the feeling down with a thought that wasn't quite a thought. Later.
Mira slung her pack over her shoulder. "How many?"
He closed his eyes, just for a second. Listened with something that wasn't his ears. Counted the wrongness in the air. The way heat pooled where it shouldn't. "Three. No—four. One's staying back."
"Scout?"
"Or bait."
She smiled without humor. "I hate bait."
They broke camp fast. No attempt to hide it. Kael kicked dirt over their footprints out of habit, then stopped doing it halfway through. Let them see. Let them think what they wanted. He hated games, but he hated being predictable more.
The path narrowed as they moved east, the land dropping away into a shallow ravine cluttered with stone and scrub. Wind moved through it like water, cold and restless. Kael's coat snapped against his legs. He adjusted the strap at his shoulder, felt the familiar tug where an old scar tightened. He hadn't thought about that scar in years. It chose today to remind him.
Mira walked ahead of him, light on her feet. She kept her left hand loose, right close to her blade. Kael watched her shoulders, the way tension settled there before it reached anywhere else. He wondered, not for the first time, how much she noticed him watching. He wondered if she minded.
They reached the ravine's edge and stopped.
Below them, the land opened into a long, uneven stretch of broken stone. Good ground for an ambush. Too good.
Mira crouched. "This is where they'll try."
"Or where they want us to think they'll try."
She glanced back at him. "That's the same thing."
He huffed. "Fair."
They waited. Time dragged in short, awkward steps. Kael's leg fell asleep where he'd crouched, pins and needles creeping up his calf. He shifted, cursed under his breath. Mira shot him a look.
"Sorry," he muttered.
The first figure showed itself without drama. A man stepped out from behind a boulder halfway down the ravine, hands empty, posture loose. He wore a gray cloak that had seen better days and boots patched with something darker than leather. He smiled like it cost him effort.
"Morning," the man called.
Kael stood. "You're early."
The man laughed, surprised. "Didn't expect that."
"Expectations get you killed," Mira said.
"True enough," the man said, eyes flicking to her blade. "Name's Rell."
"Don't care," Kael replied.
Rell's smile thinned but didn't disappear. "Shame. I was hoping for something more… polite."
Kael felt the others before he saw them. Two more shapes slid into view on the far side of the ravine, one above, one below. The fourth stayed hidden. Clever enough.
Rell spread his hands. "We're not here to fight. Not if we don't have to."
Mira snorted. "Then you picked the wrong way to follow someone."
Rell shrugged. "We pick what we're paid to pick."
Kael felt the dragon press closer, curious now. Hungry in a distant, distracted way, like it was sniffing at a locked door.
"Who paid you?" Kael asked.
Rell tilted his head. "You know who."
"Say it."
"No."
Mira shifted her weight. The stone crunched. A small sound. It echoed louder than it should have.
Rell sighed. "Look. We don't want trouble. We just want to see him." He nodded at Kael. "Up close."
Kael smiled before he could stop himself. It felt wrong on his face. "You're seeing me."
Rell's eyes narrowed. "That's not what I mean."
The dragon surged, impatient. Kael let a sliver through. Just enough.
Heat rippled the air around him. The stone at his feet darkened, hairline cracks spidering outward. Rell took an involuntary step back.
"That close enough?" Kael asked.
Mira didn't look at him. Her jaw tightened. She hated when he did that without warning. He knew. He did it anyway. There was the imperfection. He let it sit.
Rell swallowed. "Right. So the rumors are—"
"—not your concern," Mira cut in. "You'll leave. Now."
"And if we don't?"
Kael exhaled slowly. Smoke slipped between his teeth before he could stop it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, annoyed at himself. "Then one of you won't."
Silence settled, thick and uncomfortable. The bird from earlier cried again, still ugly, still persistent. Kael almost laughed.
Rell glanced at the hidden fourth, wherever they were. There was a pause, a decision made without words.
"Not today," Rell said finally. He stepped back, raised his voice. "We're done."
The others melted away, retreating with practiced ease. No sudden moves. No heroics. Kael tracked them until the pressure eased and the dragon relaxed, disappointed.
When it was over, his knees felt weak. He sat down hard on a rock and regretted it immediately. The stone was colder than it looked.
Mira turned on him. "You didn't have to show them."
"Yes, I did."
"No," she said sharply. "You wanted to."
He opened his mouth, then closed it. She was right. He hated that she was right.
"Next time," she continued, softer now, "warn me."
He nodded. "Next time."
She studied him for a long moment, then reached out and adjusted the strap on his shoulder where it had twisted. Her fingers lingered for half a second too long. Neither of them commented on it.
They moved on soon after. The ravine swallowed their path and then released it. By midday, the sky had clouded over, heavy and gray. Kael's mood matched it.
As they walked, he found himself counting his steps. He didn't know why. At fifty-seven, he stopped. At eighty-three, he started again. It was stupid. It helped.
Mira broke the silence. "They'll try again."
"I know."
"Soon."
"I know."
She glanced at him. "Good. Just making sure you're still listening."
He smiled, small and tired. "I am."
The dragon shifted, settled, watching the road ahead with eyes that weren't eyes at all. Somewhere beyond the horizon, something waited. Kael felt it like a knot pulling tight.
He kept walking anyway.