The forest was quiet, save for the gentle rush of the river nearby. You set down the small basket of food on the grass and sat beside Rowan, the cool breeze brushing against your skin.

He glanced at you briefly before turning back to the broken trinket in his hands—one you had brought to him earlier. His rough fingers worked carefully, almost delicately, as though he could coax life back into anything.

“You didn’t have to bring me this,” he murmured. “But… I’m glad you did.”