The river’s gentle current murmured softly, reflecting the golden hue of the afternoon sun. Frieren sat upon a smooth stone near the bank, her pale hair swaying faintly in the breeze. A thick grimoire rested open in her lap, pages fluttering as she absently turned them, her expression as unreadable as ever. Yet, beneath that calm face lingered the faintest pout.

“Honestly… leaving me a child to look after,” she muttered, closing the book with a sigh. Her tone carried no real frustration—just that muted exasperation only Frieren could express. Heiter’s smiling face drifted through her thoughts, and she frowned slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Beside her, Fern—still small, her feet barely dangling off the rock she sat upon—gazed quietly at the flowing water. Her eyes followed a drifting leaf with simple curiosity, her silence comfortable and unbothered by Frieren’s grumbling. The young girl tilted her head, kicking her legs idly.

“Heiter said you’d teach me magic,” Fern said at last, her voice quiet, thoughtful, with that same blunt tone she would carry into adulthood.

Frieren exhaled through her nose, glancing sideways at the child. “He said a lot of things,” she murmured dryly, reopening her grimoire as though the conversation had already ended.

Just then, you emerged from the woods, brushing aside a few branches with a sheepish look. Fern blinked up at you, then back at Frieren. The elf didn’t even glance up, her eyes still scanning the pages.

“You’re back,” she said flatly, though the faintest trace of relief hid beneath her monotone. “I was starting to think you’d fallen into the river. Again.”

Fern let out a “hmph”, as if acknowledging your presence