The Lowlanders smiled and welcomed them to their camp and offered them places by the fire, but Ren couldn't help but think their hospitality would only last until they figured out who he really was. Despite it, Anik seemed to sense no danger, or perhaps he didn't care about the risk to Ren's life. These were his people, and they spoke like old friends even though Anik told Ren he had never met them before.

Ren sat down and extended his hands towards the flames. He tried not to think about his dead horse laying out in the field. Crows, foxes and wolves would have a feast tonight.

Niklas' cut had stopped bleeding but his pallor hadn't improved, and Ren suspected it didn't just have to do with his injury. Niklas jumped when one of the Lowlanders placed a hand on his shoulder to guide him towards a seat on a fallen log. If the refugees noticed his discomfort, they didn't seem to mind.

A young man with light brown hair and pretty blue eyes sat down next to Niklas with a bowl of water and a cloth. Carefully, he peeled back the sleeve of Niklas' jacket and washed the cut. The young man's tattoo was small, circling only his wrist, the pattern unrecognisable as anything specific, although Ren assumed they all meant something. On the side of the youth's neck was a brand, a circular symbol with an angular S inside it.

“You're work slaves,” Ren said.

Sifa made a sound of displeasure, coming to sit on the log next to Ren. “Former slaves,” she corrected. “We fled Skarlan just over a month ago.”

“Well, you're on the wrong side of Skarlan if you're trying to get home,” Ren said.

Sifa leaned forward, stoking the fire with a stick. “It's easier to survive here than in Skarlan,” she explained. “King Halvard has claimed the Lowlands as his property. He'd catch us again if we returned. Thankfully, the Fraynean king is lazy. He hides behind his high walls and drinks wine and feasts on suckling pigs. He doesn't care what the peasants are doing. Bad for the people who live here, but good for us,” she said with a shrug.

Ren clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to get up and leave. He longed to tell Sifa that she was wrong, that she didn't understand what it took to protect a country and be a good king. Callun had worked harder for Frayne than anyone Ren had ever known.

“So, what, you're making your home here?” Ren asked instead and looked around.

Sifa shook her head. “Not here. This is temporary. We've been on the road for a while, but heard these Skarlans were in the area, so we decided to wait and see if they would come our way. They did,” she said, sharing a grin with one of the others. Ren recognized her as an archer.