The snow fell in lazy sheets, obscuring the craggy path ahead. Sky pulled his cloak tighter around himself, glancing down at the heavy satchel strapped across his chest. Inside, tucked warmly against layers of cloth and woven magic, the four eggs shifted.
"Easy," he murmured under his breath, adjusting his grip on the strap as he picked his way carefully down the steep, icy rocks. "We're almost out of this hellscape."
Well, hopefully.
Sky paused at the narrow ledge he stood on, peering down the mountain slope below.
The path he had climbed just days before snaked visibly to the east, now patrolled by black dots — mercenaries. Sky's mouth curled in distaste. Humans.
Why did they never learn?
One would have thought that after getting beaten up, they would have left the area, but no, they decided to bring more men instead.
He sighed heavily, mist curling in his face. He had no wish to clash with them again, not with precious life bundled against his heart.
