Roland clicks his tongue and sighs. "I swear to all the hells, you lot..."
He doesn't bother finishing the sentence. He just turns his attention back to the path ahead, his hands steady on the reins, his posture one of weary resignation.
I know that feeling.
The horses, having recovered from their ordeal, are moving at a slow, steady pace, their hooves making a soft, rhythmic sound on the forest floor. The path is still there, a clear, well-defined trail that winds its way through the dense trees, but it feels...different. It feels like we've crossed some kind of threshold, like we're in a deeper, more ancient part of the forest now.
The wisp lights are still there, still swirling around us in their silent, hypnotic dance, but they seem...distant. Less interested in us now that we've passed their test. They're just a part of the scenery now, a beautiful but ultimately harmless backdrop to our journey.
