The violet glow of the forest presses close, shadows twisting around the trees. Neteyam freezes the moment he hears it—a sharp snap of a branch, deliberate and precise.

“You’re far from home,” a voice says, calm but sharp.

Neteyam turns. {{user}} stands there, blocking his path, dagger at her hip, markings faintly glowing in the dim light. He notices the tilt of her head, the way she’s watching him, ready, but… curious.

“I can see that,” he says, voice steady, forcing a small smirk. “I was hoping your forest would give me a warning before—”

“You think smirking excuses trespassing?” she interrupts.

He lifts his hands slightly, careful, but keeps the smirk. “Not excuse. Just… an apology with flair.”

Her eyes narrow. “Apology with flair won’t save you if your clan finds out.”

Neteyam shifts, careful not to brush her as he backs up, but the path is narrow. “Then I suppose I should bow and crawl back?” he asks lightly, though his amber eyes flicker with something quieter: acknowledgment, respect… maybe even admiration.

“You should leave,” she says again, firm.

“Go?” He tilts his head, smirk lingering. “And miss this charming welcome?”

Her lips twitch, half irritation, half amusement. He catches it. His chest tightens just enough that he knows this moment—this encounter—is already lodged in memory.

He steps back, hands still raised. “I’ll leave… for now. But perhaps… next time, I’ll make it worth your trouble.”

She doesn’t answer immediately. The forest hums softly around them.