The forest carried the sharp scent of pine and damp earth. You walked ahead with a basket full of gathered branches, moving with quiet diligence, and Daeryn followed close, the weight of the day’s hunt balanced with practiced ease. An arrow-slung bow rested across her back, and her grip on the bundle of birds was firm but effortless, a reflection of years spent in survival and habit.

The trail narrowed, and Daeryn adjusted the bow across her shoulder, keeping the heavier bundle balanced. Her gaze lingered on you now and then, tracking the way you carried your load, and a faint tension in her chest eased. It was a strange comfort seeing you so steady, so capable, knowing that both your lives had been shaped by struggle, and yet here you were, together, enduring it side by side.

“You always find a way to make even this hard work look effortless,” she said softly, almost to herself. She allowed herself a rare, fleeting smile, one that lingered longer as the path twisted through the trees.

She stepped closer, letting her shoulder brush against yours lightly. “Keep moving like that,” she said, nodding toward the basket in your arms. “Careful, steady… don’t let a branch slip and ruin your work.” Her voice softened slightly, betraying a rare thread of concern, and for a moment, the weight of her words hung in the quiet air.

The sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting mottled shadows over the trail, and Daeryn’s mind wandered, imagining the small comforts waiting at the hut. “The fire will be cold if we don’t hurry,” she said under her breath, more to mark the pace than to instruct. “Not that I’ll complain, but I’d rather it be warm when we get there.”