Dusk transitions to dark, a cloud of curtains drawing across the night sky that even the moon cannot pierce through. The bitter air bites at my exposed skin, the wind like tiny knives carving my skin. Casimir's body behind me provides little warmth, even as I snuggle further into his embrace.

We've been riding for hours, only the thump of the horses' hooves against the hard earth filling the air. My eyes transitioned to the dark long ago, but I still cannot make out much more than a few feet ahead, where Lei and Juerm's horse lead the pack. The rolling hills that once carved the horizon have melted into the night, the only sign of incline the slight angle of the horses' movements.

Colder than Elel, I can't help but imagine what it will feel like in the Saulun mountains. The Elel mountain range encounters sprinklings of snow, even when the rest of the country is warmed by the summer. Here, in Torinne, the oncoming winter is evident in the icy air. I can't help but wonder if we've brought enough clothes.

We ride for several more hours before Lei's horse slows from a gallop to a canter, gradually slowing all the way to a trot. My legs ache as we slow. I hadn't realised how tense they'd been, gripping to the body of the horse. Casimir guides the horse till we're in line with the other two, the horses heaving and stomping their hooves, eager to continue.

"There's a stream up ahead," Lei says. "We should take the opportunity to refresh fill water, there won't be another en route for a while."

"I'm on it," I volunteer. Casimir's hold loosens as I slide down the side of the horse, the insides of my thighs aching as I hit the ground.

Killian dismounts his horse to our side, swiping a hand through his hair. "I'll go with her."

"We'll try to find something to eat," Lei nods, taking a hold of Killian's horse.

"There are lots of rabbits on these hills; they scatter as soon as we get close. I can set a snare."

Lei nods, turning back to Killian and me. She tugs one of the tents from the back of Killian's horse and throws it across the space between us. Killian manages to catch it with one arm.

"In twenty minutes, we will meet back here," Killian says. "With or without food."

They nod. Killian glances down at me, I make sure to gather our water containers from the back of his horse. "This way." He nods over his shoulder, turning without checking I'm following. I glance towards the sky. The thick blanket of cloud rests heavily over us, concealing any glimpse of the moon. Out in the open with even the breeze and thump of hooves, the air around us feels eerily undisturbed. I shudder. I never thought I'd find comfort in being on horseback.

Twenty minutes. Then we're back on the horses.

Starting after Killian, I break into a jog to catch up, slinging the satchel with the water containers over my shoulder. I don't slow till I'm half a step behind him, sticking close enough that the dirt kicked up by his heels stains the tip of my shoe.

"How far is it?" I whisper.

"A little further this way."

We reach the peak of the hill, revealing a steep decline that gives way to a winding valley beneath. A stream slithers through the valley like a snake. Killian starts down the hill, me only a beat behind. "Careful," he warns. "The grass shifts to shingle which will easily shift underfoot. Traverse sideways, like this."

He demonstrates the maneuver, angling his body sideways to scale the hill in a zigzagged pattern. I mimic each step. Beneath me, the shingle skids no more than a few inches each step as we traverse our way to the bottom of the valley. I breathe a sigh of relief as the land flattens, reaching into the bag to retrieve the water containers, placing one in Killian's hand.

Icy to touch, the water sends chills up through my arm and down my spine as my fingers dip into it. Killian kneels next to me, dipping the container in as he glances up at the spot where the two mountains in the distance meet, creating a deep V. I take the moment to study his profile--the sharp line of his jaw, strong nose, furrowed brows.

"You look worried," I say. "Is something wrong?"

He turns to glance at me, that mask sliding back over his features. "I'm eager to keep moving, that's all."

I sneak a look over my shoulder, half expecting an infected to scramble down the shingle and attack from behind. Only the steep incline of the hill awaits us. And yet, Killian's gaze does not leave the mountains.

"Those are the Saulun mountains?" I wonder. He nods. "Have you been there before?"

"Yes." His tone is final, not open to any follow-up questions. I sigh, twisting the cap of the second container and using my other hand to fill it up. The gentle breeze picks up, whipping my ponytail across my neck. After a few moments, he surprises me with a question of your own.

"What do you think?"

I glance up at him. "About what?"

"Torinne." His eyes glimmer keenly, awaiting a response. What kind of response he hopes for, I do not know. I can't imagine the conflict of emotions he, Lei and Juem must feel being in their homeland.

I stare out at the landscape before us, remembering the Fjord and cove. The hills roll on endlessly, the small stream carving its path in the rugged earth. Taking a deep breath, the damps scent of the earth floods my lungs, filling me with a sense of calm I certainly should not feel in the land of the cloud.

"I think... the Catel Fjord," I say, "these hills and deep valleys... I've never seen anything like it in my life."

His expression softens as he moves to the next container, slender fingers placing the cap atop a flattened rock. I don't know if my answer is what he wanted to hear, and it kills me. I wish more than anything that I could see through that mask he wears.

"What do you think?" I ask.

He shrugs, nonchalant, taking his own question much less seriously. "Part of me expected it to look like a warzone, completely ravaged by the cloud."

"Torinne is beautiful," I say. "It doesn't look destroyed."

"A place doesn't have to look destroyed to feel destroyed. It is not wartorn, or damaged. But it is empty, and somehow..."

"Somehow that's worse," I whisper.

He meets my gaze, lips pressing together in a tight line. There's something about his expression that makes me want to reach out, brush the smudge of charcoal from his cheek, whisper reassurances. But my hands remain numb in the water.

"Somehow, that's worse," he repeats.

His eyes are darker than the night, and yet they hold a light that brightens the air around him. We stare at one another, the water trickling over flattened rocks and seeping into our sleeves as we fill the water.

"It must feel strange, coming back."

He shrugs, averting his gaze. "It's just land."

I think of Veymaw, my tiny slice of home. Of the crumbling edges to the buildings, the overturned stones in the marketplace, of the trodden path into the forge. It isn't perfect, to most, it's subpar. But there's the lake, and the meadows in the summer filled with a myriad of wild flowers. The warmth in my chest as I wander the same uneven streets I walked as a child will never be matched. Because Veymaw is home. And no one, not even Ereon, can ever take that from me.

"It doesn't matter how far you venture," I say. "The human heart always longs for its homeland." The left side of his mouth tilts upwards. "Do you disagree?"

"Like I said, it is just land. You forget I am not human."

"But I remember that you are a liar," I say.

I don't mean it maliciously, but the way his grin drops makes it feel so. I ignore the pang of guilt in my chest. There's nothing I should feel guilty about, least of all Killian lying to me. He certainly didn't. Beside me, Killian has screwed the cap on his water container, placing it to the side. I feel the warmth of his gaze return to my face as he pauses, but I ignore it.

"Say you're right, that it does feel strange. Hard, even," he says eventually, voice low. "What good does it do for anybody to talk about the things that weaken morale?"

"It doesn't make you weak to admit that something might be hard, Killian."

My reflection ripples upon the surface of the water. It reminds me of the lake in Veymaw. On an evening as still as this, it was merely a mirror reflecting the inky night sky.

"Freya," Killian murmurs my name like some foreign song. I glance up, his eyes locking me in. "I'm not lying to you now."

I search his face, trying to find traces of deceit. But all I see is Killian. He continues when I don't respond. "I dreamt of Torrine, of my home, every night when I was in Elel. I never wanted to come back. I never wanted to see what it became in our absence. I never wanted my memory of the country I spent my childhood to be ruined."

"And now?"

"Now, I see the strength of nature, how it is so much more resilient than us. How it will withstand, and even thrive, in our absence." He puts a hand on my forearm, halting me from filling the next bottle and looking away from him. "I didn't want to come back. Ever. I was afraid. And yet, being here, watching you here... admiring my country, the land that carved me into who I am, experiencing its beauty... nothing about that feels hard."

Warmth ripples across my skin at his words, warring against the doubt, the chains around my heart. I open my mouth to say something, I'm not sure what, but the way Killian's eyes draw over my shoulder halt me.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Killian rises to his feet, dropping the half filled water container to drain back onto the grass. I turn my head, following his gaze to the dip in the valley, my heart sinking into my stomach.

Low, thick fog crawls across the land, reaching down from the sky. Killian's next words chill me to the bone. "It's coming."