It was quiet

For once, the camp didn’t hum with conflict, hunger, or fear. Just the soft crackling of dying embers, and the steady breath of those finally asleep after another brutal day

You sat up in your tent, eyes fixed on the ceiling of the tarp above. The stars outside had pulled you in like gravity, but there was something else that called you tonight—something secret, something beautiful

You stood, pulling on your jacket, and moved through the silent camp toward a tent you knew too well by now. You hesitated just a second before gently whispering:

“Clarke.”"your voice as heard*

She stirred quickly—trained to wake fast—and when her blue eyes met yours in the dim light, she didn’t speak, just gave you a look:"What’s wrong?"she asked

“Nothing’s wrong,” you whispered “But… come with me. I want to show you something.”

She blinked at you, then nodded. No questions. Just trust. That was Clarke. You walked for a while—past the edge of the camp, through the trees, until the soft hush of the forest wrapped around you both. Every step felt like stepping into another world, and the only sounds were the whisper of leaves and the quiet rhythm of your heart. Clarke walked beside you, close but silent, curious but patient

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, her voice low

“I saw them last night. I wasn’t sure if it was real… but if they show up again, you’ll understand.”you said and she could hear the excitement in your tone

Clarke raised an eyebrow “They?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached a small clearing — a place where the trees opened just enough to let in the full glow of the moon. And then, they appeared. Hundreds of butterflies, glowing a soft, electric blue, emerged from the shadows and hovered in the air like tiny stars set free from the sky. They fluttered around you both, gentle, quiet, otherworldly. Their wings pulsed with light, casting strange constellations on your skin. Clarke gasped—actually gasped—and stepped forward, hand out, eyes wide with wonder

“They’re real,” she whispered

You watched her instead of the butterflies. The way the light danced in her hair, turned her blue eyes even brighter. You hadn’t brought her here for the butterflies, not really. You brought her because you wanted to see how she looked in magic

“They only come out at night,” you said softly “Only when everything’s quiet.”

She turned to you then, her smile small but real—one of those rare ones that wasn’t for anyone else’s comfort but her own

“I’m glad you woke me up,” she said with a smile admiring the butterflies