Seren has never walked this far in her life.

  They top the last rise just as the sun slips lower, that slow sinking that turns everything warm and creates misleading angles. Gold washes the fields. Shadows stretch and tangle around their boots. Down below, cupped into the land like it is hiding from the world, sits Dunlow.

  Seren eases her pace. Almost stopping. Her breath catches, which surprises her, and she lets herself stare.

  Smaller than she pictured. That is the first thing she notices. Smoke lifts from chimneys in thin threads, some pale and drifting, others darker and heavier, the sort that clings to your clothes and throat. It smells of wet timber and soot, even from up here, the wind generous with it.

  To the north, the place looks almost tidy. Slate roofs. Straight fences. Gardens squared off in neat little rows. The rest of Dunlow does not try as hard. Thatched roofs slump against one another. Sheds lean like old men. Walls bow. Porches sag. It spreads outward without thought, as if unsure of how to use the space.

  Southward, the buildings got bigger, more industrial. Tall chimneys punch smoke into the pinking sky, thick and insistent. Work is still happening there, even at this hour. Fire clear in some of the openings in the walls.

  It is not much. A village you could walk end to end without breaking a sweat. A few hundred people, perhaps. Seren has never seen a place like this. Never been this far from home. The thought lands heavy, how far has she walked, how much further will she go before it is all over. All she knows is she may never go back and even then, it will never be the same home again.

  She lingers a moment longer and lets it sink in. The air feels wrong and right all at once. Freer, yes, but sharper too. The wind nips at her cloak, fingers and her ankles, insistent. Everything feels wider here. Wilder. Less arranged, less supervised. No bells. No walls telling her where she belongs.

  "I have never left High Marrow before," she says, quietly.

  Aarav looks over at her. "Not even once?"

  "Outside the temple walls, yes. To the markets. A few nearby streets." She hesitates, then adds, "Always with others though and never for long."

  "Then welcome to the rest of the world," Gesturing arms wide.

  There is no edge to it. No joke waiting to be told. Just a mild sort of amusement, like he finds the idea curious rather than something to make fun of. Though she does not know why she would care if he did.

  The world does not stop at cloisters and prayer halls after all. It stretches, messy and loud. Full of unknown dangers and threats to be wary of, but also excitement and adventure. Behind them, the path snakes back through fields and scrub. Ahead, the road drops into sounds as they get closer. Hooves striking dirt. Dogs barking. Voices rising and falling in a rhythm she cannot quite make sense of. A town busy with itself. A town loosening its collar as the day ends.

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  Once, she had dreamed of this. As a girl, tucked into the library, she would stare through the high windows and wonder what waited beyond the hills. It had felt like a tale then. Something neat and distant. Safe because it was unreachable.

  Now she is here. Dust on her skin. Sweat along her spine. Uncertainty wrapped around her tighter than the cloak.

  It feels nothing like a story.

  And yet. It feels like the beginning of something new.

  Aarav lets out a low whistle. "We should pick up the pace moving. Before the sun goes down."

  She nods and pulls her cloak closer as they start the descent. Her legs ache. The soles of her boots complain with every step. She ignores it, suffering is how we know we have put in our best. Her attention is already elsewhere, scooping up details as they draw closer.

  The first houses sit quiet, windows shuttered, doors shut tight. Poor folk live here, that much is obvious. Walls patched with scavenged wood and scraps of cloth. Roofs bowed under years of rain and neglect. She catches movement behind the shutters, shadows shifting behind faded curtains. A child peers out from behind a rain barrel, eyes wide. They don’t seem like they get a lot of visitors.

  The streets narrow quickly, more like overworked dirt lanes than proper roads. Wagons are left at careless angles. Firewood stacks lean against walls. The smell thickens as they go. Smoke, cooking, manure, and something sharper underneath it all, something she feels in the back of her throat.

  "I think we should find an inn," she says, stepping around the splintered remains of a cartwheel. Being overly careful of it, as if it might bite her. "Stay the night. Then look for horses and supplies in the morning." Speaking as if she has any idea what she is doing out here.

  Aarav gives a low grunt. "Not a bad thought. But we will need coin for that."

  He stops suddenly. Looking as if he has just realised something.

  She turns back to him, already uneasy.

  "How much money do you have?" he asks.

  She hesitates for a beat. "I did not take anything when I fled."

  "Nothing?"

  "There was no time."

  He stares at her, openly now. "Not even a single coin?"

  "We did not use money in the temple," she says, and knows how strange it must sound out here. "Food, clothes. Everything was provided for us."

  Aarav drags a hand through his hair and exhales through his nose, slow and measured, like he is stopping himself from saying something sharper. "Right," he says eventually. "Well. With the few coopers I have to my name, we will be fortunate to eat tonight, never mind sleep somewhere with a roof."

  The words land hard.

  Seren blinks. She knew about money and coins. She had been to markets and seen people hand over coins in exchange for items and food. She just had not ever thought about how she might need any. The truth settles in her stomach like a weight. Without money, how will they survive?