The storm found Vale before nightfall.
It rolled in without warning—low thunder, sharp wind, rain that cut through the trees like thrown gravel. By the time she spotted the edge of a settlement, her cloak was heavy with water and her boots slick with mud.
The outpost was small. Temporary. A place for traders, scouts, and those who did not ask questions they didn't want answers to.
Perfect.
A guard at the gate looked her over once—travel-worn, unaccompanied, calm—and stepped aside without comment.
Inside, firelight glowed from low structures clustered close together. Voices murmured. Life continued.
No one knew her here.
The relief was immediate. The tension followed just as fast.
Vale paid for a corner of floor space and a bowl of stew. She ate slowly, back to the wall, senses alert. Old habits did not fade just because her title had.
A woman across the room laughed too loudly. A pair of wolves argued in hushed tones. Someone was crying behind a closed door.
Normal.
She let herself breathe.
"You walk like you're waiting for permission," a voice said.
Vale looked up.
The speaker was older, grey threaded through dark hair, posture relaxed in a way that spoke of confidence earned rather than demanded.
"I don't," Vale replied evenly.
The woman smiled. "You do. But you don't ask for it."
Vale said nothing.
"I'm Mara," the woman continued, gesturing to the empty space beside her. "You don't have to sit."
"I know."
Mara's smile widened. "Good."
They sat in silence for a while. Not companionable. Not tense. Simply shared.
"Are you heading north or east?" Mara asked eventually.
"East."
Mara hummed. "That's where people go when they don't want to be found."
Vale's fingers tightened briefly around her bowl.
"I won't ask why," Mara added. "Only this—do you plan to stay invisible, or are you just resting?"
The question struck deeper than it should have.
"I don't know yet," Vale admitted.
Mara studied her, gaze sharp but not unkind. "Shelter is easy to find. Safety isn't."
Vale met her eyes. "I know the difference."
"I thought you might."
Later, when the fire burned low and the outpost settled into uneasy sleep, Vale lay awake staring at the beams above her.
She could stay.
Disappear.
Let the world move on without her.
No councils.
No expectations.
No blame.
The idea should have felt like freedom.
Instead, it felt like erasure.
By dawn, she was already on her feet.
Mara watched her pack without comment. At the door, Vale paused.
"Thank you," she said.
Mara inclined her head. "For what?"
"For not asking me to stay."
Mara smiled. "You wouldn't have."
Outside, the storm had passed. The air smelled clean, sharpened by rain.
Vale turned east.
Shelter was easy to find.
Safety would cost more.
And for the first time, she was no longer sure she was willing to disappear to get it.