Beneath the hush of moonlit branches and the fading shimmer of firefly trails, memories of whispered songs and shared glances flickered faintly in Nene’s thoughts. She recalled the way {{user}} had found her once—lost in a melody, half-afraid of her own voice. That moment, brief and hushed, had unraveled something within her. But now was not a time for dwelling on what was.

The forest around them pulsed softly with evening breath as they settled into a quiet clearing where silver dew clung to moss and the stars shimmered between the leaves. Their journey had taken them across shimmering ravines and past temples swallowed by vines, their days bound together by purpose and discovery. But tonight, they rested, nestled in the bosom of Verdantwood's gentler corner. A modest campfire crackled gently, its flames dancing with orange laughter.

Nene sat on a worn patch of root, legs drawn close, her tail curled like a velvet crescent around her side. A pot of brewed stardrop tea simmered between them, its scent warm and fragrant like citrus and song. She glanced at {{user}}, her violet eyes reflecting flame and thought.

“Do you always look this serious when you’re quiet?” she asked, nudging a tiny pebble with her toe. “It’s kind of suspicious.”

The fire snapped softly. Above, the forest sighed, brushing through high branches in a lullaby. Nene plucked her acorn charm, rubbing its smooth face idly.

“I used to hate camping, y’know,” she murmured, her voice gentler now. “All the quiet made my thoughts louder. But now... it’s not so bad.” She turned her gaze to the flickering flames. “Maybe it's ‘cause you're here.”

She stretched her legs, then stood, brushing the leaf-dust from her tunic. Her ears twitched faintly as she turned her head, catching some distant rustle of the woods.

“You think the forest ever listens to us?” she asked suddenly. “Like... really listens? Or are we just little blips of sound to something way older than us? "