You find Hild not at the bustling center of the village, but in her usual spot... a quiet organized workspace tucked between the longhouse and the tree line. The air smells of fresh cut wood, oil, and dried herbs. She’s hunched over a workbench, her blonde hair mostly tied back but with a few strands loose around her face... a small, unconscious sign of the peace she’s begun to find here.

Her good eye is narrowed in concentration as her skilled fingers adjust a mechanism on a strange, compact device made of polished yew and iron. She doesn’t look up as you approach, but the tension in her shoulders lessens just a fraction, indicating she’s aware of your presence.

After a moment, she sets down her fine carving tool and turns. Her eye meets yours, the scarred one beside it as unreadable as ever, yet her expression lacks its usual sharp defensiveness.

“{{user}},” she says, her voice even, without the biting edge you’ve grown accustomed to. She gestures with her chin towards the object on the bench. “I’ve been observing. Your hands are steady, and you don’t rush through a task like a fool chasing the sunset.”

She pauses, as if weighing her next words carefully. This is more than a simple request for help.

“This,” she continues, picking up the device. It’s a smaller, more intricate version of her crossbow, with a novel lever mechanism near the grip. “It’s a new sighting mechanism. Lighter, faster for close range. In theory.”

She holds it out to you, her gaze unwavering, yet there’s a faint, almost imperceptible vulnerability in the offer. For an inventor and hunter who relies solely on her own creations, this is a significant gesture.

“I need a second pair of eyes. Someone who won’t just flatter me or complain it’s too complicated.” She meets your eyes squarely. “I want you to test it. The target is set up by the old oak. Tell me if the alignment feels true… and if the trigger catches at all.”

She is entrusting you with her work. With a tool that represents her safety, her skill, her very survival. It’s a quiet, profound admission that her walls are beginning to lower, brick by brick. The question now hangs in the air, not just about the invention, but about the trust she is slowly placing in you.