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“Keep riding until we find somewhere to stop,” he said. “We’re bound to find a suitable place that’s not in the open.”

Nodding, she encouraged their horse towards the treeline, Aramoor disappearing behind them.

∞∞∞

When Adelina and Damir approached an old shack, they dismounted. The sky was black with night—the moon full.

Inside the shack, she paced, running a hand through her hair. Damir rummaged through the dirty sagging cabinets. “There’s nothing for us here. I’ll have to hunt.”

She managed a nod, but her mind was elsewhere. The last thing she could think about was food. Her parents were out there somewhere, and she could think of nothing but being reunited with them. The sooner dawn broke, the better.

As Damir wandered outside, Adelina surveyed their lodgings for the remainder of the night.

The ground floor was made up of one room, functioning as what she imagined was once a living space.

An old, dusty stove was positioned in the centre of the room, as was tradition.

Kneeling beside it, she checked the pine logs left inside.

They were dry and suitable for a fire. With a wave of her hand, red and orange flames burst from the wood.

Sitting in a tattered chair, she scooted closer to the fire and prayed to any god who’d listen. Prayed for her parents—and Damir’s—safety and health.

When Damir walked through the door an hour later with a rabbit in hand, she was still unsettled, tapping her fingers against her thighs. Her stomach rumbled, and she doubted she’d get much sleep.

They’d barely salvaged anything from their home, except her swords, a small bag containing her grandfather’s pocket watch, and a single change of clothes for each of them.

She tried not to grimace as Damir set the rabbit on the kitchen side and used an old blade to sever the skin and fur from the flesh.

“I’m going to check what was left in the saddlebag—if anything,” she said, heading for the door.

Outside, she sucked in cool, fresh air. It didn’t do much to quell her unease. When she reached the horse, she ran a hand down his hide, which seemed to soothe him. She unclasped the bag and withdrew a flask, a map, and a tattered blanket. No food. No money. It would have to do.

Returning to the shack, she showed Damir what she’d found. “Something to keep us warm through the night—barely.”

“You’ll have me,” he said, with a warmth in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said, taking comfort from his words.

∞∞∞

The following morning, Adelina and Damir were on their way to the border, leaving the shack behind them. They kept a steady pace, stopping only to hunt, water the horse, and refill their flask.

They travelled through villages, searching for any sign of their parents and the civilians who’d fled Aramoor. There were none.

Another week passed as Adelina and Damir rode farther east towards the Saintlandsther border. They kept close to the edge of the mountain range, pausing outside the perimeter of a small town nestled against the backdrop of the steep cliffside.

“We should look for a vendor,” Adelina said. “I have my grandfather’s pocket watch. I’ll sell it.”

“Are you sure?” Damir drew his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m sorry. I know it’s an heirloom.”

She shrugged a shoulder and didn’t tell him the thought of parting with it made her heart pang. “Needs must. ”

They set off on a gentle ride through the village entrance. Smoke plumed from the blacksmiths, a stableman raked hay for the horses, and a middle-aged woman holding a basket plucked berries off bushes.

Shutters were open and windows were ajar, letting fresh air into houses and shops. Children skipped, women hung out laundry to dry in the summer sun, men tended to household maintenance. Folk filled the cobbled streets, streaming into the market ahead.

As they dismounted the horse, she kept a hold of the reins. Damir fell into step beside her, a protective hand pressed to the small of her back. She focused her gaze on the market stalls ahead, weaving between locals who strolled the cobbled path.

Coming to a stop, she rummaged in her bag and withdrew the pocket watch. She handed it to him, keeping her chin held high.

He placed a brief yet warm kiss on her temple before leading the way through the market. The wooden counter of a stall in the centre was lined with trinkets, jewellery, and leather goods. Damir approached the vendor, planting his most pleasant smile on his face.

“How much for this, sir?” Damir offered the man the pocket watch.

The man readjusted his spectacles, then accepted the item, turning it over in his hands. “Why, this is a fine timepiece indeed. Where did you find such a thing?”

“Family heirloom,” Damir said.

The vendor nodded and exchanged a pouch of ruble for the timepiece .

Damir opened the pouch and checked the amount. His eyebrows rose. “A handsome price.”

“A handsome price for a handsome piece,” the man chimed. “Good day to you, sir.”

With a nod of farewell, Damir slipped the pouch in his pocket, placed his hand on Adelina’s back, and they were on their way.

∞∞∞

When they finally reach the border of Saintlandsther, another week had gone by, and still no sightings of their parents or those who’d fled Aramoor.

Filtering into the country from the north, they eventually reached the edge of the slums—the country was known for its poverty.

The houses were old, weather-beaten, and appeared as if they would fall down with the faintest gust of wind.

Damir led Adelina and the horse to a crooked tavern. Its roof tiles were rusted, chipped, and some were missing altogether. The windows were dirty, and some were cracked. Outside, bags of rubbish were stacked against the fence.

Adelina tethered the horse to a damp post, then followed Damir through the creaking door. The reek of stale beer hit them like thick fog. She wrinkled her nose as he led her to a quiet table in the corner of the room.

The tavern’s clientele was…interesting. Burly men with long black cloaks. Some wore masks, and she doubted it was to keep them from inhaling the stench .

Grimacing, she slid onto a chair. Damir dropped their bags by their feet.

“Can you get me a drink? Water, please,” she said.

Nodding, he left the table and headed to the bar. A few moments later, he was in conversation with the barman, their mouths moving more than the few words to order a drink would require.

When he returned, she leaned forward. “Did you learn something?”

“Well, I asked him if he’d lived here a long time, and he said all his life. I told him we escaped the earthquake that devastated Aramoor, then asked if he’d seen anyone new in town recently.”

“And?” Her breath hitched at the possibility of their parents being somewhere nearby.

He leaned across the table, took her hand in his, and squeezed.

A reassuring smile spread across his mouth.

“Three days ago, wagons were sighted entering the village. The barman said they were looking for somewhere to stay, but without enough money, they couldn’t afford lodgings, and this place is already overflowing with the homeless.

He said the wagons headed east, to a meadow beyond this village.

And he called it the Heart of the Highlands. ”

“What else?” Adelina whispered, her heart soaring.

“Apparently, the governor who oversees this place has offered to provide basic necessities for them to set up a camp. Until everyone is back on their feet, of course.” Damir stroked his thumb across her hand.

“Wagons of tents, food, medicinal supplies, even spare bedding and clothes were taken to the meadow as a gesture of goodwill to the folk who survived the earthquake. ”

“We’ve found them.” Tears formed in Adelina’s eyes.

“Yes.” He laughed, his own eyes glistening. “We have.”

∞∞∞

The next morning, Adelina and Damir rode east, towards the meadow they’d surely find.

The Heart of the Highlands, the barman had called it.

And she could understand why. Immeasurable beauty stretched out like a blanket draped across rolling hills.

Long grass was seeded with wildflowers, sunlight drenching it, and tall trees surrounded the meadow.

Leaves had turned a burned shade of orange, some drifting to the ground.

Butterflies and dragonflies flew about, reminding her of springtime in Aramoor, where there was an abundance of them.

Grass swished in a gentle yet cold wind rippling across the highlands. She hunched her shoulders a fraction, raising the collar of her fur cloak to cover her neck.

“They must be somewhere close,” Damir said from his position on the saddle behind her.

“I believe they are,” she said in a light voice as she listened closely. Water trickled over rocks in a nearby creek—at least her family and the other survivors would have a source of freshwater—and somewhere in the distance, voices. “I can hear them.”

“Keep going,” Damir urged, his voice laced with anticipation .

Shaking her reins, she encouraged her horse along the narrow trail through the tall grass.

The scent of clean air and sweet flowers filled her nose as they made their way to the peak of a hill.

Her mouth opened, and her heart pounded.

Ahead of them, in a sweeping valley nestled between mountains, were possibly a hundred tents, their white tops dotting the fields.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins at the sight. Had so many people really survived the earthquake—her neighbours, people she’d known her whole life? Another wave of emotion hit her, but she held back tears. She wouldn’t weep.