CHAPTER 88: FIRST GREY LIGHT

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"Another night went by in the blink of an eye," she said softly, voice clipped but full of emotion.

Zephyr held his own tin cup up and touched it to hers with a quiet clink. "Thanks to Star and Aurora we are alive."

Then he turned toward the cow, who was now eyeing him with large, soulful eyes—head lifted like a tragic heroine awaiting for her praise.

"You want a reward, huh?" he asked.

Muse blinked slowly. Then she tossed her head and snorted with a long-suffering air that clearly meant, Cheese. Will suffice.

Zephyr laughed. "Of course it will."

He ducked into the cart’s side bin again, fingers fishing through their travel supplies until he pulled out the last quarter-wheel of the hard trail cheese.

It was dense, dry, and slightly cracked—aged for flavor and punishment alike.

Zephyr offered it with two hands, like a knight offering tribute to a cow queen. 🐮

Muse leaned forward and delicately—no, regally—accepted it. She munched with slow, queenly dignity, tail flicking once with satisfaction. Beside her, Aurora flapped upward and hovered curiously. Her beak twitched.

Muse turned, stuck out her big tongue, and gave the phoenix chick a gentle lick that left Aurora’s red-gold feathers sticking up like a startled hedgehog.

Aurora chirped indignantly, fluffed herself into a puffball, then resumed bouncing around on the cart.

Fenna grinned behind her tin cup, a smudge of soot still streaked across one cheek. "I can’t believe that a cow has a more girly attitude than some young master of some big families."

Zephyr pointed at Muse’s bell. "We’ll carve her skills into that if she keeps this up."

Muse mooed once again, this time softly and modestly. Apparently, recognition had satisfied her vengeance.

The sky above Emberwood forest began to change color—deep night softening into twilight violet, then paling toward amber. Dawn crept over the basalt cliffs, scattering sleepy warmth across their scorched clearing.

Fenna rose to her feet and stared eastward, silhouetted by light. "Do we stay?" she asked. "Or move again?"

Zephyr’s fingers brushed the edge of the fire pit as he turned to survey the basin.

Charred grass. Claw marks across rock. Melted sap-glass. Traps half-crumbled and snare lines torn. And yet... they’d survived. Here. Together.

He shook his head. "No need. This basin is ours now."

He reached down to his belt pouch and unwrapped a strip of thick emberfoil.

The Fire Leopard’s core glowed inside like a miniature sun. It was ember-red and alive with residual energy. Even wrapped, it radiated warmth. He held it aloft as dawn painted gold across the world.

"And we grow stronger," he said.

Star let out a low rumble of approval. Aurora puffed herself tall, wings flared like fire fans. Muse simply chewed her cud with unbothered poise, tail swishing thoughtfully.

Fenna joined Zephyr at the fire’s edge, arms crossed.

"You think more will come?"

Zephyr didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the leopard body again. Then at the shredded cords. The scorched traps. The path Muse had wandered in from.

"I think someone already knows where we are."

"But we’ll be ready," Fenna said firmly.

Zephyr nodded. "Always."

As the sun climbed over the ridge and sent long shadows sprawling behind them, the camp though wounded—felt more like home than ever.

The smoke drifted upward now, thin and harmless.

The Emberwood had offered its test. And Team Zephyr—one dragon, one phoenix, one archer/healer/his wifey, one blade, and one indignant but heroic cow—had answered.

Together, they prepared for whatever trial waited next beneath the rising sun.

The last ember in the pit popped, sending a thin ribbon of smoke skyward. Dawn’s amber streaks stretched only halfway across the sky. It was early enough that birds hadn’t gathered courage to sing. In the hush after battle, exhaustion hit them like an invisible weight.

"I’m calling it," Zephyr said, rubbing gritty eyes. "One hour of sleep. Maybe two. We will rotate the micro watch every twenty minutes, no hero shifts."

Fenna closed the cork on her salve jar. "Agreed. If anything worse than a leopard shows in the next ninety minutes, it deserves us half-dead anyway."

Zephyr laughed under his breath, but only Muse’s soft moo answered. The cow was already dozing, head tucked against the cart’s side. Aurora had climbed into the shallow ash nest she and Star shared, wings drooping like wilted petals. She chirped once. It was tiny and satisfied, then fell instantly into a dream-clutch.

Star plodded to the edge of the lean-to on stiff legs. His scales glimmered dull pewter, each ridge caked in soot. He curled himself around Aurora with protective instinct, but sleep eluded him. A faint emptiness gnawed his middle, deeper than any post-sparring hunger he’d known.

Zephyr laid out blanket squares into rough beds. One for Fenna, one for himself, a third draped under Muse’s barrel-wide. He checked snares one last time, then crouched beside Star, scratching the fledgling’s jaw.

"Sleep, cinder scale. You earned it," he whispered.

Star licked his thumb, more reflex than gratitude. But the hunger remained.

Zephyr tucked his weapons inside a rucksack, set it at arm’s reach, and dropped almost face first onto the bedding. Within breaths he was out—body slack, shoulders rising with long, even pulls of air.

Fenna took only seconds longer. Her fingers closed around Aurora’s shed flight feather saying, "tonight’s lucky charm" and then stillness settled over the camp.

Star’s own eyes remained half-open slabs of molten green. Smoke drifted from his nostrils in languid pulses. Each exhale carried the same silent thought:

"Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry."

He’d burned through two Ember Trails, one Ember Lance, and several Spark Dashes—all in a fledgling body built more for quick darts than protracted combat. Mana reservoirs felt scraped. Muscles trembled. He needed fuel. His growth was slow because of running like a fugitive and continuously fighting.

He couldn’t control his hunger. He stood up to look for food. First came the dried rations.

Star gets out from the ash-nest on silent talons, careful not to wake Aurora.