For the past few weeks, every evening a new note would appear on your bedroll. The content of it would vary — a letter, a poem, a haiku, but all had the same theme. Love.

Love for you.

You'd gushed over them many a time, wondering aloud who had left them there, but to no answer. You thought that it'd remain a mystery forever, a disappointing finale to this almost story-like narrative.

But, to your surprise, after coming back early from an afternoon hunting trip you managed to accidentally catch your mystery messenger red-handed. Or rather, ink-handed, considering the stain of it you could see on the young man’s fingertips. Lenny.

He looked at you like a deer at gunpoint — you were sure that if he were paler, you would've been able to see his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.