The rays of the sun pierced through the canopy above, slipping between the branches and scattering beams of light across the camp.
The golden shafts shimmered faintly as they touched the ground, cutting through the last wisps of mist that still clung to the earth.
The warmth of morning steadily pushed away the night's cold air,
leaving behind the crisp freshness of a new day.
The sound of distant birds began to stir, blending with the faint crackle of dying embers from the fire.
Jinn slowly opened his eyes.
His first breath drew in the scent of soil and smoke, a reminder of where he was.
He sat up and reached for Fangeryth at his side.
The familiar weight of the blade settled in his grip, grounding him with its presence.
For a brief moment he held it,
feeling its comfort,
before he rose to his feet.
With a stretch to ease the stiffness in his back, he stepped forward and pulled at the tent flap.
*zip!
