The morning air of Zenith Academy was crisp and painfully thin. Vane walked down the wide white marble pathways toward the main academic building. His fractured left arm was bound tightly against his chest in a secure sling. The dull rhythmic ache deep in his radius was manageable, a testament to the blood root paste they had retrieved from the mountains.
Valerica Sol walked beside him. Normally the daughter of House Sol carried a crushing silent authority that naturally cleared the path ahead of them. Other students would instinctively step aside to avoid the heavy gravitational pressure she passively radiated. She was the anchor of their squad. Steady and immovable.
Today however the silence between them was not steady. It was brittle.
"You are stepping slightly heavy on your right foot," Vane noted glancing at her profile.
