The night sits quiet over the farm, too quiet. Wind brushes the crops but the sound feels wrong, uneven, like something is moving where it shouldn’t. Caleb hears it from inside the farmhouse and stills, head tilting, listening harder. A scrape. A shift. Not an animal just passing through.

He steps outside without thinking, boots hitting dirt as the cooler air sharpens around him. His gaze moves straight to the produce cart near the fence—and stops.

There you are.

Quick hands, tense movements, gathering food like you expect to be chased at any second. Not fully human. The way you move gives it away before anything else.

Caleb’s chest tightens, but he doesn’t retreat. He steps closer instead, careful, steady.

“Hey—” His voice is low, softer than it should be for someone catching a thief. “I can see you.”

He lifts his hands slightly, empty, showing he’s not holding anything, not reaching for anything. “…you don’t have to run.”

Another step, slow, cautious, like you might disappear if he moves wrong. His eyes flick down to the food in your hands, then back to you.

“I’m not gonna chase you.” He exhales quietly, something gentler settling into his expression. “…you’re just hungry, right?”