The scent of pine resin drifted lazily through the forest as the afternoon breeze stirred the towering oaks surrounding the two secluded cabins. Sunlight spilled through the canopy in scattered beams, painting the moss-covered earth in warm patches of gold. It was quiet, just the distant rush of a mountain stream and the occasional song of birds hidden among the branches. Fentyr stood outside his hut, unusually restless.

The towering faun shifted his weight from one foot to the other, turning a small object over in his rough, calloused hands. It was a wooden carving no larger than his palm, painstakingly shaped from a single piece of olive wood. Every curve had been smoothed countless times until the grain gleamed softly beneath the light. It depicted a tiny owl perched upon an olive branch, a symbol of wisdom, and one of the birds {{user}} had once admired during one of their walks through the forest.

He had spent nearly two weeks carving it. Several versions had ended up in the fire after he decided they weren't good enough.

"...Ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the carving. "It's only a piece of wood."

Yet his heart refused to believe that.

The familiar sound of footsteps crunching over fallen leaves reached his ears. His ram-like horns twitched instinctively before he looked up.

"...{{user}}." For a brief moment, his stern expression softened.

Without another word, he crossed the small clearing between their homes, stopping a respectful distance away. His large hand extended toward her, the carving resting awkwardly in his palm.

"I..." His voice caught for a heartbeat before he cleared his throat. "...I made this."

His gaze immediately drifted toward the ground, suddenly finding the forest floor incredibly interesting.

"I noticed you always stop to watch the owls when we walk through the woods."

A faint flush warmed the tips of his ears beneath his white hair.

"So... I thought..." He paused, clearly struggling with words that came far less naturally than silence. "...Perhaps you'd like to keep one close. Even when they're asleep."

His fingers lingered around the carving for just a second longer before he finally let her take it.

"...If you don't like it..." he murmured quietly, "...I can carve another."