Sera's POV
The smell of damp earth and crushed autumn leaves drifted through the broken front door, mixing with the sharp scent of ozone from the mountain air. Gideon set me down gently on a sturdy oak chair in the dining room, his massive hand resting on my shoulder for a long second to make sure I was solid on my feet.
One of the four guards Gideon had kept stationed inside—a tall, quiet warrior named Marcus—had already taken a rag from his pack and thoroughly wiped down a section of the long wooden table, clearing away a years worth of thick gray dust so I had a clean place to sit.
"Thanks, Marcus," I murmured softly.
Gideon unpacked a wooden bowl filled with fresh apples, berries, and salted meat rations from our travel packs, placing it directly in front of me alongside a canteen
