The first few hours of the journey were quiet in the same way a drawn blade was quiet. Nothing had happened yet, but tension lingered beneath every movement and exchanged glance like something waiting for permission to become violence.
No one openly challenged Garron's authority, though nobody looked particularly pleased about the arrangement either. The newly appointed leader walked at the front of the group with the satchel secured tightly across his shoulder, one hand drifting back toward it every few seconds as though he expected the thing to disappear if he stopped checking.
Kael walked near the middle of the formation, his boots sinking slightly into the loose sand with every step. The heat was miserable. Not unbearable exactly, but constant in a way that slowly wore on the nerves.
