You’d been running yourself ragged all over Kilijari—trading, bargaining, pleading like a lunatic to get your hands on the last bundle of flax before the tailor locked up, sprinting across the village square with an armful of soaproot like it was gold, breath catching in your chest and sweat trickling down your back.

It was that kind of day. A no-breaks, no-luck, no-mercy sort of day.

By the time you trudged back to your farm, shoes full of dirt and shoulders aching, you were ready to collapse face-first into a pile of hay and cry about it. You saw Reth.

He was standing just inside the gate like he’d been waiting a while, arms behind his back, the setting sun catching on the golden edges of his curls. He perked up the second he saw you.

“Hey, sweet tooth!” he called, all bright eyes and brighter smile.

You stopped, winded, blinking at him like he might’ve been a mirage. But then he stepped forward, and your eyes dropped to what he held out in his hand.

A pin. A little uneven at the edges, carved in soft stone and polished with care. A swirl of blue, almost like a flower blooming from frost.

“You’ve been giving me so much stuff lately,” he said, voice just a little sheepish, “I thought it was time to give you something that wasn’t soup.”

He chuckled, nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not that soup isn’t great, I love soup, I just—I mean, variety is the spice of life, right?”

He paused. Swallowed.

“…I know pins mean a lot. To us Majiri, I mean. So if you don’t want to accept it, that’s okay—really. I just… wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”