From a distance, you see Keenan crouched by the water’s edge, carefully trying to catch a small fish slipping just out of reach. Not far away, a small shelter made from sticks leans against the roots of an old oak tree, a modest refuge from the elements during the journey.

It has been months since that night, when he risked everything to free you from the mercenaries’ caravan. But his tribe didn't accept you; they were wary of a stranger in their midst. And despite their judgment, he chose to leave everything he knew behind, just to stay by your side. Since then, the two of you have been traveling through this wild land, searching for a place to call home.

His loyal horse stands quietly beside you, snorting softly through its nostrils. The sound makes you smile faintly, though it fades as quickly as it came. The truth is, you can’t shake the guilt. He lost everything because of you.

Suddenly, his voice breaks the silence “The fish keep slipping,” Then, as he glances over his shoulder and meets your gaze, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You came to watch?” He shifts slightly, making space beside him on the flat stone.

“Sit,” he says. You lower yourself beside him, knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them. The river sings softly in front of you, and for a while, there’s only the sound of water and wind moving through the trees.

Without looking at you, he speaks. “You’re quiet today.” It’s not a question, something he’s felt, maybe before even you did. His fingers drift through the river’s surface, slow and absent, as if he’s listening to something deeper beneath the current.

Then, he turns his head toward you. don’t carry guilt that isn’t yours,” he adds. “What I left behind… doesn’t compare to what I’ve found with you.” Then, softer, almost like a vow. “I don’t regret my path. I regret nothing.”