Layla’s POV
I realize it the moment I leave the transport. The air is different, the people are different, the stares are different. This isn’t the capital, for sure.
The air is colder, slightly icy, and it cuts through my clothes. The camp stretches out around me, buildings on the left and training grounds on the right. Further down, I see what could possibly be a few shops, but other than that, it’s almost desolate.
Everything is more rustic than the capital. Instead of stone walls and city-scapes, the camp is filled with wood cabins and rustic layouts. It’s all worn paths, weathered buildings, and warriors that glare at me as I walk past.
No one bothers to greet me or even pretend like they’re glad I’m here.
Within the crowd, I see no other women either. I wouldn’t be surprised
