A line between lands showed itself as water. The current marked where one side ended, another began.
A stretch of water, slow-moving under gray light, cutting through land without warning or sign. Not built by hands meant to divide, yet it does just the same. This current separates places never named clearly - one side shaped like memory, the other felt only in silence. Maps pretend to explain it with lines, but the truth moves with the flow, shifting beneath reflections of sky. What stands on either bank is less about ground than belief.
Dawn light touched the river as they waded through, where Orren had noted the crossing long before, waist deep and so cold each breath felt forced. Her palm stayed pressed against her side while Ysse moved forward, silent on that point. Water stung Bren's forehead wound, yet not a word came from him about it. With one arm lifted out of the current, Orren made his way across, eyes fixed ahead, wearing the look he saves for judging uncertain paths.
Kael crossed last.
Midway through the stream, he paused - water pressing against his shins, chill so sharp it stopped feeling like temperature and more like a message delivered straight to bone - then turned toward the land behind them. Hills pale and lifeless stretched out ahead. A haze hung distant, origin unknown. Silence filled the air, yet somehow made noise of its own, different from what they'd endured weeks prior.
Out of the Low Quarter he came, once just a mill hand who'd stepped past the city gates no more than two times ever.
Something unnamed now lived inside him.
Back on his feet, he moved across to the other side.
Out there, the shore looked bare - just stone, no trees, nothing soft. What little they had dripped water onto the ground as they sorted through it. From within his coat, Orren pulled a scrap of dried meat, kept hidden till now for a purpose never spoken aloud, though clearly this moment was why. He split it quietly, handed pieces over. Breakfast happened on cold rock under pale dawn, chewing slowly because food was all there was, and somehow that felt like plenty.
Out here," Bren said. Not really asking. Just trying to get his bearings.
"Eastern borderlands," Orren said. "Technically outside coalition jurisdiction. Practically speaking, still within their operational reach if they chose to extend it, which they won't for four deserters when they have a resource extraction timeline to maintain."
"So we're safe," Bren said.
Outside immediate danger now," Orren said - truth in his voice.
Her fingers caught the light as Ysse studied them - this hand once tucked against her ribs. Flipping it slowly, she checked each line, same careful way she always did.
"I need proper medical attention within two days," she said.
"Two days," Kael said. He let the words hang without looking up.
"I'm telling you the timeline, not asking for reassurance."
"I know. Two days."
Eastward, his gaze landed on rolling hills. Beyond those, stretched the borderlands, thinning into uneven ground. A market town waited past the rise, unnamed on most charts but marked by Orren's hand. Such towns grew where rules frayed, neither here nor there. People drifted in from distant points, keeping their histories close. Talk stayed light. Questions rarely stuck around long.
Two days' walk.
He stood up.
Forward we go," he said.