The Dragon’s Blood Awakens

The company leaves the silver-barked camp with packs secured and follows the woodland track toward the nearest settlement. At a fork, a young adult woman with copper-brown skin, a sturdy build, and tightly wrapped black hair struggles beside a spice-laden cart, its wheel split beneath her.

Lydia studies the fractured axle while Lioran shifts his medicine pouch forward. Saadia remains near Elion, watching the two roads and the merchant’s guarded expression.

The broken wheel creaks in the wind. Beyond the fork, one road disappears toward the blocked pass while the other sinks beneath older trees, offering no sign of what waits beyond them.

Mira gives Elion a strange look. Her lips part, and she softly bites her lower lip before turning back toward the spice-laden cart.

The words leave Mira in a subtly altered voice. She offers no directions, price, or agreement, only returns to the broken wheel and begins gathering the reins.

Elion looks to his companions, shocked by the exchange. Saadia refuses to meet his eyes, fixing Mira with a furious stare while Lydia and Lioran watch in uneasy silence.

The companions leave the fork without Mira’s directions or a guard arrangement. Behind them, her cart remains at the roadside as the older trees close around the departing group.

Lydia keeps her eyes on the path, while Lioran’s explanation leaves Elion staring ahead. Behind them, Mira and her cart vanish among the trees, taking her directions with her.

As Elion says it, he meets Saadia’s gaze. Relief flickers across her face before she looks away, leaving him suddenly shy beneath the attention.

The companions take the road Mira’s cart used, leaving the fork behind. Its ruts wind beneath older trees, where crushed spice leaves still cling to the damp earth.

Elion keeps the group moving at a steady pace, choosing firmer ground around muddy bends. Lydia watches the surrounding woods while Saadia listens for anything beyond the trees.

By late afternoon, the trees thin around a small hamlet gathered beside a narrow stream. Smoke rises from clay chimneys, and a rough timber sign marks the road ahead as a traveled way.

Lydia guides the group to a level patch beside the stream. While Lioran checks the packs and Saadia watches the road, Elion draws his weapon and begins measured practice.

Elion works through cuts, guards, and quick recoveries until the sequence settles into his muscles. On the final pivot, his boot slips against wet soil, and his shoulder strikes the trunk hard enough to leave it bruised.

Lioran binds Elion’s shoulder securely. The brief break leaves the technique sharpened and the cost clear: a spreading ache beneath the cloth, carried alongside the road toward the hamlet.

Elion bows despite the ache pulling across his wrapped shoulder, lowering his head before Lioran and the others. His request hangs quietly beside the stream.

Lioran rests a hand near the bandage, then stops short of casting. The unfinished gesture makes the limit plain, while Elion’s shoulder continues its dull, spreading ache.

Elion sighs, anger and disappointment tightening his breath. He gathers his belongings with careful movements, the wrapped shoulder aching when he draws the pack into place.

His eyes burn, and he keeps his face lowered so the others will not see how close frustration has brought him to tears. Saadia notices anyway.

Lioran nods and adjusts his medicine pouch, accepting the change without protest. Elion says nothing, but quiet gratitude reaches him beneath the lingering frustration as the company turns toward the hamlet’s inn.

The companions reach the hamlet inn as dusk settles over the stream. Its low timber walls lean around a warmly lit doorway, and voices murmur within.

Behind the counter, a broad elderly man with weathered skin, white hair, and a green wool vest looks up from a ledger. A brass key-ring hangs at his belt.

The price takes longer to confirm than expected. Lioran studies the innkeeper’s worn rate board, while Elion spends precious minutes checking whether another lodging exists nearby.

The innkeeper accepts their payment and hands over two keys. Lydia and Lioran take one room, while Elion and Saadia receive the other, adjoining through a thin wooden wall.

The companions climb the creaking stairs and enter their rooms. The beds are plain but clean, and the delayed search leaves the bypass question unresolved until tomorrow.

Elion settles onto the nearest bed, keeping his bruised shoulder supported while the inn’s muted voices drift through the adjoining rooms. Lydia, Lioran, and Saadia leave him to rest.

Through the thin wall, chairs scrape and several guests answer at once. Lioran gently separates rumor from certainty while Saadia listens for any mention of the older route.

The conversation continues for several quiet minutes. By the time the door opens again, the companions have gathered a rough direction and a warning to confirm it with the innkeeper before leaving.

Elion finds Beren behind the inn’s counter, where the elderly innkeeper closes his ledger and studies the rough route described through the adjoining room.

Beren repeats the landmarks slowly until Elion can place each turn in order. The confirmation is clear, though the exchange consumes enough time for the supper room to empty and the inn to settle into night.

When Elion returns upstairs, Lydia, Lioran, and Saadia listen as he relays Beren’s directions. The bypass is settled for morning, with the lost minutes paid in a later, quieter departure.