Date: March 29, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonorable.
The caravan had been moving east for three days. The road, initially dusty and rough, had gradually smoothed out, and now the wagons rolled along steadily, no longer jolting at every bump. Low hills stretched on either side, covered with tough, sun-bleached grass, and only occasionally did a lone tree appear, its gnarled branches reminding Ulvia of the forest she had left behind.
She had grown accustomed to the rhythm of the caravan. Mornings — rising at dawn, a quick warm-up while the others packed camp. Then travel until noon, a short rest, more travel until sunset. Evenings — the fire, supper, and those few hours when she could sit, listen to conversations, and watch the stars appear.
The caravan people had gradually grown used to her. Rena no longer flinched when Ulvia walked by. The little girl, whose name was Lin, now reached out her small hands, wanting to be held. Garth and his mercenaries no longer whispered behind her back — they simply accepted her presence as a given. Even the horses, initially spooked by the strange scent coming from her left hand, now stood calmly when she passed.
Ulvia didn't seek their trust. She was simply there, helping when asked, staying out of the way when not. And that, it seemed, was enough.
On the third evening, as the wagons made camp at the foot of a low hill, Lyra approached her. The mercenary held two cups of herbal tea, extending one to Ulvia.
"Sit with us," she said, nodding towards the fire where Garth and the two other mercenaries — stocky Ulf and a young man named Kell, who had hung back during the fight with the robbers, covering the wagons with his crossbow — were already seated.
Ulvia took the cup and sat by the fire. The tea was bitter, infused with herbs she didn't recognize, but pleasant to drink.
"We were talking," Garth began, rubbing his healing shoulder. "You fight well. Your spirit is strong. And at your age... it's rare."
"Thank you," Ulvia replied, not quite understanding where he was going.
"What I mean is," Garth continued, "you're traveling alone. Looking for some bridge, old ruins. That's all well and good, but it's dangerous. We're a company of freelance mercenaries. We work for caravans, merchants, sometimes guilds. There's always work. Pay is decent. And importantly — we watch each other's backs."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"You could join our company. Permanently. Or at least for a while — until you find what you're looking for. We travel all over the east, go places even merchants avoid. Maybe your bridge will end up on our path."
Ulvia was silent. She stared into the fire, Garth's words turning in her head.
"There are plenty of advantages," Ulf chimed in, taking a sip from his cup. "Steady income — silver per job, plus a share of any loot if we're lucky. Protection — when you're in a company, you're not alone. Connections — we know people in every city, have recommendations, tokens. With those, you can get in anywhere, no one asks unnecessary questions."
"And experience," added Kell. He was usually quiet, but now he watched Ulvia intently, appraisingly. "You're strong, but it's always harder alone. In a company, you can learn. We know a thing or two as well."
Garth nodded, confirming his comrades' words.
"Think about it. We're not in a hurry. But if you decide — there'll be a place for you."
Ulvia was silent for a moment. She sensed the offer was sincere. Garth and his people weren't trying to use her — they saw strength in her and offered what they thought might benefit her.
"Thank you," she said finally. "I'll think about it. But now... now I can't. I have a goal. And I must reach it alone."
Garth nodded, and there was no offense in his eyes. Only understanding.
"As you wish. But just in case..."
He reached into his tunic and produced a small metal token. A sign was stamped on it — crossed swords over a shield.
"This is our token. A recommendation. Show it in any city, and you'll find people who'll help. They'll tell you where it's safe to stay, where you can earn some coin, where not to go. Or just give you advice if you need it."
He handed the token to Ulvia. She took it, feeling the cold metal in her palm.
"Thank you," she said. "I'll keep it."
"I hope it serves you well," Garth leaned back, looking at the sky. "And maybe someday we'll meet again. Then we can talk about you joining."
Ulvia smiled — faintly, but sincerely.
"Maybe."
The fire was dying down, and the weary travelers began dispersing to their wagons. Lyra wished her a good night and climbed under the tarpaulin. Ulf and Kell went on watch. Garth dozed off by the fire, leaning against a wagon wheel.
Ulvia remained seated. She watched the embers slowly fade to grey ash, thinking about Garth's words. Joining a company. Having people to watch your back. Not being alone. It was tempting. But inside her, where her spirit resided, something held her back. She knew she had to continue. Alone. At least for now.
The stars were brighter here than in the Forest Dwellers' city. They hung low, almost touching the hills, their light cold, pure, distant. Ulvia looked at them, and her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Where was Kaedan now? In the North, as they had agreed? He was probably a true warrior by now. His spirit — the armor that couldn't be pierced. She imagined him standing on a high cliff, stone vambraces on his arms, ready to take any blow. Was it hard for him? Did he also fall and rise? Was he also learning to be stronger?
And Gil? She had wanted to go West, to the academy. Ulvia saw her in her mind's eye — bent over books, pen in hand, with that cold, attentive gaze that missed nothing. Was it easier for her? Or not? Knowledge was also a battle. And one could lose that too.
Dur... He had gone East. To where, on their childhood map, was a river that could not be crossed. Ulvia remembered his face that night they parted. He was quiet, as always, but there was fear in his eyes. Not of the road — of what awaited him there. Had he overcome it? Found what he sought?
She suddenly thought: what if one of them... hadn't made it? The thought was sharp as a knife thrust. Ulvia squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her teeth. No. She pushed it away, like a bothersome fly. Foolish thoughts. Empty, foolish thoughts. They couldn't... they mustn't.
She opened her eyes. The stars still hung above her, cold and distant. She looked at them, and gradually the fear receded, giving way to something else. Faith. That they were alive. That they too were walking, falling, rising. That they too were looking at these stars now, thinking of her.
"We'll meet again," she said softly, the words not a question but a promise. "We'll meet again, for sure."