The sun crawled higher over the stone walls, dragging the hours along with it.
Auri sat at the stall, arms resting lightly against the newly sanded counter. The rough warmth of the wood under his fingertips should've been comforting, but all it did was remind him of how empty everything felt.
Beside him, Timofey sat on a small wooden crate, kicking his heels against it. The boy hadn't said much, but he watched Auri with wide, innocent eyes—as if sensing the unease tightening in the air.
As for Wrye, he lingered not far off, blending into the flow of the street in a way that would've seemed casual to anyone who didn't know better. He had his arms folded, weight leaning lazily against a beam, looking like he was just another passerby.
