The wind outside rustled dry sand across the rocks, carrying heat even as the sun began to fall behind the dunes. You hadn’t meant to wander this far—just a short walk to clear your thoughts. But the faint silhouette of the tent caught your eye. You knew who it belonged to.

The flaps were mostly closed, but not fully. Warm, amber light spilled out just enough to cast shadows across the sand. You stepped closer, meaning to leave a word, or maybe just listen for a moment longer.

Your boot brushed a loose stone, and the quiet clatter echoed louder than you'd meant.

Inside, Lan stirred—just slightly. He didn’t startle, didn’t reach for the blade resting near his knee. His posture remained grounded, spine straight, hands resting on his thighs as he opened his eyes slowly.

“…You’re far from camp,” he said softly, voice like worn leather and low thunder.

You hesitated at the entrance. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I—thought you might want company. Or… maybe I did.”

His gaze lifted, meeting yours with that calm steadiness that always made the world seem a little less heavy.

“You didn’t disturb me,” he said after a moment. “Sit, if you’d like. The sand is cooler here.”

There was a pause as the wind brushed past the tent again, gentler this time. You stepped inside, letting the flap fall closed behind you. The silence between you wasn’t awkward—it never was. It was full of things unsaid, full of understanding.

“I was meditating,” he said after a while, quieter now. “It helps.”

You sat across from him, legs folding beneath you. “I know.”

His eyes stayed on you a moment longer—then, slowly, he reached for the bond. Letting the silence speak for what came next.