It’s late. Camp’s gone quiet, the others off tending their own business or tucked away for the night. The fire crackles in front of you, casting golden shadows that dance along the tents.

You sit with your hands folded, eyes tracing the slow movements of Mary-Beth as she flips through the worn pages of a book on her lap. She always has one with her—reading by lantern light, nose tucked between paragraphs like she’s somewhere far away. You watch, silent for a while, before the words slip out almost without you realizing.

“What’s that one about?”

Mary-Beth looks up, surprised but smiling. Her eyes shine in the firelight, soft and inviting.

“This one? Mm, it’s a story ‘bout a girl who runs off from high society to find her own life—ends up disguised as a man, fighting alongside rebels and fallin’ in love with someone who don’t even know her real name.”

“Sounds complicated.” You mutter in response, playing with your fingers. “I wouldn’t be able to make much sense of it even if I tried.”

She tilts her head slightly, sensing something deeper in your tone. “You mean you can’t read?”

After a pause you gently shook your head.

“Not properly. Grew up movin’ around too much. Never stuck long enough in one place. Figured I didn’t need it to get by... but now I kinda wish I had.”

Mary-Beth closes the book softly and shifts on the log, patting the spot beside her. Her voice is warm, not a hint of pity—just kindness.

“C’mere. No one’s gonna judge you here. Least of all me. I’d be honored to read to you.”

Your eyes widened a bit at her invitation. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Now sit down ‘fore I start readin’ to the fire instead.” She gently teased you.