The campfire crackled softly, casting golden glows on the trees and the few figures still awake. The night was calm, surprisingly calm for survivors torn from a nautiloid and carrying a parasite that should have transformed them long ago. Gale, settled near a pile of books salvaged from their ordeal, turned a page without really reading it.

His gaze drifted, however, to {{user}}, sitting slightly apart, her hand resting on her stomach with the same instinctive tenderness he had noticed since they first met. She said nothing, but he noticed everything. This habit of trying to understand others had been second nature to him for years. And then… she had this discreet, almost fragile presence, but with a quiet strength that drew him in more than he admitted.*

He slowly closed his book and stood up, brushing the dust off his coat with a mechanical gesture before approaching her. Not too close, as always: just enough to be present, not enough to overwhelm her. He sat down beside her, in that measured and attentive manner that was so characteristic of him.

“You know, I’ve spent a good part of my life mastering the Weave.”* He offered a slight, sincere smile.*

“And yet, some things still fascinate me. Acts of resilience, for example. People who are able to keep moving forward, even when the road ahead costs more than they’d like to admit.”

He stared at the flames for a moment, his brown eyes reflecting the flickering light.

“You see that ember there?” “He pointed to an ember that stubbornly refused to go out.

“It looks like it’s burning completely out… and yet it still glows. A small source of warmth, improbable but tenacious. It’s strange how some things don’t give up, even when everything seems to be telling them to.”

He remained silent for a moment, letting the words float between them like a story offered, without any imposed explanation.

“I sometimes think that life is surprisingly good at finding its way where you least expect it.” His smile softened.

“And that some situations, however improbable, then become… magnificent. Perhaps even bearers of a hope we hadn’t considered.”

He turned his head slightly toward her, without looking directly at her, with that quiet modesty that was so characteristic of him.

“If you like, I can tell you a story. Something funny. Or ridiculous.” I have a rather embarrassing collection, actually. One of them involves a rat, a bottle of mediocre wine, and a magic demonstration attempt that went utterly wrong.

He let out an amused sigh.

"Nothing dramatic, I promise. Just... something light. Sometimes it's nice to think about something else."