Dawn didn't arrive all at once.
It seeped into the forest slowly, thin ribbons of pale gold slipping between branches, brushing over bark and leaves like a cautious hand. The night's cold still clung to the ground, damp and stubborn, but the birds had already begun arguing about it.
Connor slept through most of it.
He was curled on his side atop a nest of leaves, breath steady, face slack in a way it never was when he was awake. Without the sharp edge in his eyes, without the weight of awareness, he looked younger. Smaller. Almost peaceful.
Tala crouched a few steps away, arms wrapped loosely around herself as she watched him.
"Hey," she whispered to the others, barely moving her lips. "Wake him up. We need to ask."
Jer exchanged a look with Patricia and Yora. Jer sighed quietly, like she already knew this would end up being her job. She stepped closer and nudged Connor's shoulder with the side of her boot—gentle, but firm.
"Connor," she murmured. "Wake up."
He shifted, brow creasing. For a split second, his body tensed, fingers curling like he was about to grab something that wasn't there. Then his eyes fluttered open.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
The forest snapped into focus.
"—Huh?" His voice was rough, sleep-clogged. He pushed himself up on one elbow, scanning faces. "What's going on?"
Tala stepped forward, sunlight catching in her hair. She hesitated just long enough to be noticeable.
"We're heading out soon," she said. "Thought we'd ask if you… wanted to come with us. Travel together."
Connor blinked.
Once.
Twice.
He sat up fully, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders popped. Leaves slid off his clothes. He looked around the camp—the dying embers of the fire, the familiar faces, the way none of them were watching him like he was a problem that might explode.
A smirk tugged at his mouth.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, why not?"
He rolled to his feet, brushing dirt from his hands. "Sounds like the right kind of trouble."
Jer smiled. Patricia relaxed. Yora nodded approvingly.
Tala let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
---
The forest path was narrow, packed dirt winding between trees that leaned overhead like curious eavesdroppers. Sunlight broke through in patches, warming skin and pulling steam from the ground. The air smelled like moss and sap.
Connor walked a few steps ahead, hands in his pockets, pace easy. Too easy. Like he was pretending the road meant nothing.
Behind him, Tomora kept glancing over.
At first, it was casual. Then it wasn't.
"Hey," Tomora called out. "Beggar."
Connor didn't react.
Tomora grinned wider. "You sure you can keep up? Or you gonna choke on the dust?"
Connor kept walking.
Yora shot Tomora a look. Jer frowned.
Tomora wasn't done.
"Aw, come on," he continued, voice light, teasing. "Scared to lose? Or just don't wanna get your pretty face scratched? 'Cause it's kinda late for that."
Connor stopped.
Not abruptly. Just… stopped.
The forest seemed to notice.
His shoulders stiffened. His head tilted slightly, like he was listening to something beneath the words. The birds went quiet.
When he turned around, the humor was gone.
"Stop it," Connor said. His voice was low. Flat. The kind of calm that didn't belong near sharp things. "Or I'll kill you."
Silence dropped like a stone.
Tomora stared at him for half a heartbeat—then laughed.
He stopped walking and turned fully, stepping closer, boots crunching against the dirt. "Oh really?" he said. "Kill me?" He spread his arms mockingly. "Come try."
The air tightened.
It wasn't magic. Not yet. It was something older—instinct, maybe. The sense that one wrong step would turn the path into a grave.
Jer took a step forward. "Tomora."
Tala's voice shook. "Tomora… cut it out."
Tomora didn't look away from Connor. There was a spark in his eyes now—not mockery. Curiosity. Like he'd found a wire and was wondering how much it would hurt to touch it.
Connor felt it too.
The itch under his skin flared, hot and familiar. The ground beneath his boots seemed closer somehow, like it was waiting for instructions.
He clenched his fists.
Don't.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Move," he said. "I don't want to do this."
Tomora tilted his head. "Do what?"
Connor took a step forward.
The dirt darkened.
Not visibly. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But Connor felt it—the way the earth responded, the way it softened, weakened, listened.
Jer saw his hands shake.
"Connor," she said carefully. "Hey. Look at me."
He didn't.
Tomora smiled, smaller now. "That's it?" he asked. "All bark?"
Connor's jaw tightened. For a second, the forest wasn't there anymore.
There was fire.
Wood stacked too high. Rope biting into skin. Faces turned away.
His foot pressed into the dirt.
The ground beneath Tomora's boots cracked.
Just a little.
Tomora's smile vanished.
He glanced down.
"What the—"