Lucian kept them moving until he judged the ridges clear of the camp.
No one questioned it as they fell into step, kept close and silent, the ebb from the containment fields still making some of them unsteady on their feet. Mira leaned against her staff, Finn close behind her, Dorian's posture tense and angry, his strides too long. Lucy had Althea at the center of their formation, and Reia hovered near Silas's injured arm, making occasional adjustments to the bandage. Marc came up on one side, still scanning the area behind them. Lucian took the opposite side.
They stopped when the terrain allowed for a shallow ravine to mask their approach. Lucian gave the signal, and they slowed to a stop, drinking heavily.
"Drink," he said, keeping his voice low. "Check what needs checking. We don't stop here."
They obeyed, the words giving them all the encouragement they needed.
