The first light of morning had not yet broken through when it began. It was a low sound. Not a human voice, nor the sound of wind. Something closer to the vibration of earth, resonating from deep within the belly. One throat's voice awakened another, and yet another responded—the entire settlement becoming a single vessel, trembling. Aira's eyes opened, and her hand was already reaching for her sword. Her body moved before her consciousness could catch up. That was the result of a knight's training. She surveyed the dim interior of the abandoned hut. A floor scattered with dead leaves, pale blue light leaking through the gaps before dawn, Lilia wrapped in a blanket— (She wasn't there.) Lilia was gone. The door stood slightly ajar. Aira kicked off her blanket and rushed outside, sword half-drawn, dressed in something closer to sleepwear than leather armor. From the center of the settlement, she turned toward the direction the sound was flowing from—and stopped. Bonfires formed