The next day felt stagnant, the wind roaring against the huts in a wild outraged, as if even the gods despise today. Everyone carried stoic faces to mask their feelings, the hunters' grip tightening on their lances as they got ready to guide the chief and his son.
Astra watched as everyone made way for them, a path outside the village, her eyes landing on Belk's gaze—it was downcast, hooded in the shadow of sorrow.
"It might rain today…" She murmured to herself, looking towards the clouds, "Meaning the gunpowder will be useless…"
She bit her lip, her brow furrowing in concern for the future, only to be brought back by the sound of footsteps coming to a halt.
"What? Not going to tend to your stand?" Belk quipped, causing her gaze to snap to him. How could he crack jokes at a time like this—her hands turned into fists as she wiped her eyes. The boy took on more of a somber look on his face, realizing it might be a bit much.
