The caravan had not yet reached the borders of the Eldoria Kingdom.
There were still many days left on the road.
But something had changed during the journey.
The long weeks of travel had slowly turned the group into something comfortable.
Routine settled in.
Morning travel.
Afternoon rest.
Evening meals around the fire.
Everyone had grown used to each other.
Daren and Tomas still argued over stupid things.
Mikel kept pretending he was the responsible one.
Jorin remained quiet but observant.
And Lady Elara Valenwood no longer walked beside Con.
Now she often rode near Jorin.
Not in an obvious way.
Just… naturally.
They spoke quietly during travel.
Sometimes they walked ahead of the caravan together, discussing small things about their homes or the places they had passed.
Jorin listened more than he spoke.
But Elara didn't seem to mind.
In fact—
She seemed comfortable with the quiet.
Meanwhile, Con simply did his job.
Watching the road.
Listening to every sound around them.
Guiding the caravan safely forward.
One afternoon, the road cut through a dense forest.
Tall trees blocked much of the sunlight, leaving cool shadows across the path.
The wagons rolled slowly along the narrow trail.
Birds chirped overhead.
Leaves rustled softly in the breeze.
Everything felt peaceful.
Until—
Con tilted his head slightly.
Someone was ahead.
Very still.
Breathing lightly.
He raised a hand, signaling the caravan to slow.
The guards immediately grew alert.
"What is it?" one of them asked quietly.
"Someone on the road," Con replied.
"A single person."
The caravan rounded a bend.
And there—
Sat an old woman.
She rested on a fallen log beside the road.
Her back slightly hunched.
Gray hair tied loosely behind her head.
Her clothes were worn but clean.
She looked up slowly as the caravan approached.
"Oh my…"
Her voice was soft and shaky.
"Travelers."
Lady Elara immediately stepped down from her horse.
"Are you alright?"
The old woman smiled faintly.
"Oh yes, dear."
"Just a tired old woman."
She gestured weakly toward the forest.
"My children brought me here this morning…"
Her voice trembled slightly.
"…but they never came back."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances.
Daren frowned.
"They just… left you here?"
The old woman nodded sadly.
"They said they would fetch something from the village."
"But that was hours ago."
Tomas muttered under his breath.
"That's awful."
Elara knelt beside the woman.
"Do you have somewhere you need to go?"
The old woman shook her head slowly.
"No home anymore."
"My sons said I was… too much trouble."
The caravan fell silent.
Even the mercenary guards looked uncomfortable.
Mikel crossed his arms with a grim expression.
"People like that shouldn't call themselves family."
Daren crouched beside the old woman.
"Well you're not staying here."
She looked up at him.
"Oh?"
Daren grinned warmly.
"You can ride with us."
"We've got space."
The old woman blinked in surprise.
"Oh dear… I couldn't trouble you like that."
Elara shook her head firmly.
"It's no trouble."
"You'll travel with us until we reach the next town."
The old woman smiled softly.
"You are all very kind."
She slowly stood with their help.
"My name is Mirelda."
Tomas whispered quietly to Daren,
"She already sounds like a grandmother."
Daren elbowed him.
"Shut up."
Mirelda climbed into one of the wagons with assistance.
And just like that—
The caravan had a new passenger.
Over the next few days, Grandmother Mirelda became quite lively.
Far more energetic than anyone expected.
She talked often.
Told strange stories about old villages and forgotten traditions.
Complained about the cold mornings.
And oddly—
She became very fond of Daren.
"Daren, dear."
"Have you eaten enough?"
"Daren, sit closer to the fire."
"Daren, you remind me of my grandson."
Daren eventually threw his hands in the air.
"Grandmother, I'm fine!"
But he still smiled whenever she fussed over him.
Tomas laughed endlessly.
"You've been adopted."
"Congratulations."
Even the guards found her amusing.
But one strange thing slowly became noticeable.
Grandmother Mirelda avoided Con.
Not aggressively.
Not rudely.
Just… quietly.
Whenever Con approached, she moved somewhere else.
When he spoke politely, she responded briefly and turned away.
She never sat near him.
Never asked him questions like she did with the others.
Con noticed it quickly.
Of course he did.
His hearing was far too sharp to miss it.
At first he assumed it was nothing.
Maybe she simply felt uncomfortable around him.
But as the days passed—
The pattern remained.
One evening around the fire, Daren noticed it too.
"Hey…"
He leaned closer to Con.
"Did you offend the old lady somehow?"
Con chuckled softly.
"I don't think so."
"She barely talks to you."
"It's alright."
Daren frowned slightly.
"If she's bothering you—"
"She's not," Con interrupted gently.
He smiled faintly.
"Some people just take time."
Across the fire—
Grandmother Mirelda sat beside Elara, telling a story about a village festival.
But every so often—
Her eyes flickered toward Con.
Briefly.
Carefully.
Watching him.
Then she quickly looked away again.
As if avoiding something.
Something only she could see.
And Con—
Though he pretended otherwise—
Quietly felt the distance.