Jora didn’t answer him right away.

Her attention had shifted—sharpened—like a blade catching light.

She turned her head slowly toward the window, toward the path that cut through the trees from the shoreline, and her hand lifted just a fraction. A silent signal. Wait.

“There,” she said under her breath.

Someone had broken from the cover of the trees.

Not rushing blindly—but moving fast, purposeful, feet sure on the ground as they ate up distance toward the cabin. No hesitation. No scouting. Whoever it was knew exactly where they were going. Knew the path. Knew the house.

Jora’s spine straightened, every instinct snapping into place.

“That’s not a messenger,” she murmured, voice calm but edged steel. “They’re not lost. And they’re not waiting for permission.”

Her hand slid instinctively to Sage’s arm—not to stop him, but to anchor him. To keep them aligned.

Her jaw set. A quick glance toward the hall, toward where Lyra would be. “If this turns loud, I want distance between them and our daughter.”

She shifted closer to Sage, her voice dropping to something fierce and intimate.

“If you get a clean chance away from the house, I won’t stop you,” she said. “But not where Lyra can hear it. Not where she can see.”

Her gaze never left the figure storming toward them, her body already angling to place herself between the threat and her family.

“They’re walking like they expect the door to open,” Jora finished quietly.

“It won’t.”

Sage had noticed the shift in her body language even before she had motioned for her to wait, and had noticed the figure quickly after seeing her gaze move towards the window. He stiffined, heart rising in his throat. He couldnt tell who this person was, but there was a person moving straight towards them.

They had been quicker than he'd expected. They were here.

"No," he noted, wrapping an arm around Jora protectively, instinctively moving slightly in front of her. If they burst in with a weapon, he didn't want her right in their line of fire. He didn't see a sword on them, or any going of metal, but a skilled fighter could easily hide weapons from sight.

"Me too," he noted, giving her a tense nod when she mentioned not doing anything where Lyra would see. "If we can get rid of them while she's asleep, that would be best," he breathed. He could hope for that, but he knew that would be hard to do.

He grunted softly in agreement when she said the door wouldn't open, sort of gently guiding her backwards slightly so they were close to Lyra's room. Well...close enough that if someone came in through the back door they would see and have time to stop them. But they could still se the front door...and the shadowy figure outside. It would be harder to see them though, since they were in the dark hallway rather than by the fire. His mind was working now, focused on the task before them. He quietly moved to check his dagger, and place a few bullets in the pistol he'd grabbed earlier as well, clipping that to his belt.

Jora would have her own weapons, so he didn't pry at her....but he did glance over at her, making sure she was prepared. He didn't want anyone getting hurt.

Jora let him shift in front of her—but only just. Enough to satisfy the instinct, not enough to remove herself from the line of what was coming. Her hand stayed firm at his side, fingers digging briefly into fabric, a grounding pressure that said I’m here as much as don’t forget me.

Her eyes never left the darkened shape outside.

“They’re alone,” she murmured after a beat, tracking the silhouette’s movement with practiced focus. “Or they want us to think they are.”

She adjusted her stance as he guided her back, placing her feet where she could pivot fast, where the walls gave cover but not confinement. The hallway’s shadows wrapped around them, firelight dulled to a distant glow—good. Let the stranger see less than they expected.

When Sage checked his weapons, Jora’s own hand slipped beneath her jacket, fingers brushing familiar steel. She was ready. She always was. Her breathing stayed slow, measured, despite the tension coiling tight in her chest—and the instinctive urge to press a hand to her stomach, to shield the life there. She resisted it. Fear showed weakness. She wouldn’t give that away.

Her gaze flicked once toward Lyra’s door.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered, more prayer than command. Please stay asleep.

Footsteps crunched outside now—close. Too close.

Her jaw tightened.

She straightened, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the door as a shadow passed across the narrow windowpane.

Whatever was coming had made its choice.

So had she.

Sages own eyes followed the movement of the person, whoever it was, as they slid along the side of the house, ears flicking slightly as he tracked them. He was grateful for the good hearing his mother had given him....it did make things like this easier. For instance, the woods were too quiet. Like the animals had all fled, and now everything that was there was taking precautions to stay quiet. He tilted his head, focusing past the shadowy figure, closing his eyes as he listened. He trusted Jora to focus on the person close to them.

"I don't think they're alone," he breathed after a few moments of silence, opening his eyes again, breath nearly stopping when he noticed the figure peer into the small window in their door, muscles tensing as he readied himself for.... anything really. Energy, pulsing under his skin, just waiting to be released. His fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger, the other hand staying on joras back. Not enough to inhibit any movement from either of them, but giving himself courage as much as giving her some as well.

He heard the door handle jiggle, and then the scraping of someone trying to pick the lock. He let out a small hiss of breath, glancing at jora and checking to make sure they weren't looking in the window before creeping towards the door, positioning himself beside it so if they got in, he could grab them and take them out as quickly and quietly as possible.

This was it. And they could not mess up.