Kael trudged back to the clearing, Ash padding quietly at his side. The hunt had yielded nothing a moose that had disappeared into the thick undergrowth, and a shallow scrape along his forearm as a reminder that even skill had limits. Yet Kael’s mind wasn’t on the hunt.

  It was on her.

  Nysa.

  Her brown hair, sunlight catching the edges as she stepped lightly over roots. Her teasing smirk. The way she had moved through the forest as if it bent around her, yet she had noticed him in every stumble and misstep. He had expected an observer, someone distant. Instead, she had spoken openly, laughed lightly, and stayed near enough that he could feel her presence, without demanding anything.

  He shook his head. “Focus,” he muttered. Ash padded past, flicking a tail as if agreeing. But even the steady rhythm of returning to the clearing couldn’t push her from his thoughts.

  By the time he reached the fence, Elin was waiting, crouched over a broken post she had been repairing. She looked up, eyes narrowing slightly at his distracted expression.

  “You look… different,” she said, brushing dirt from her hands.

  Kael forced a shrug, pretending casualness. “Hunters get lost in thought. You know that.”

  Elin tilted her head, unconvinced. “I don’t think it’s that. You’re… smiling a little too much for a failed hunt.”

  Kael’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. She had noticed. Of course she had. He didn’t answer immediately, kneeling to inspect the fence post, turning it slightly to test the fit. Ash nudged at his side, alert to both humans, tail flicking as Kael flexed his scraped arm.

  “It’s nothing,” Kael said finally, a little too quickly. “Just… a person I ran into. In the forest.”

  Elin’s eyes narrowed further, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks. “A person?” she asked, voice skeptical. “Someone else?”

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  “Not… someone else,” Kael replied, trying to keep the tone even. “Just… curious. They noticed me hunting, helped a little. That’s all.”

  Elin crossed her arms, leaning against the fence, clearly unconvinced. “Helped a little?” she repeated. “You sound… interested.”

  Kael flexed his fingers, feeling the slight sting from the scrape, and looked at her. “I’m not. It’s just… surprising. That’s all.”

  Elin huffed softly, but didn’t press further. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the soil, brushing stray dirt across her palm. Kael followed her eyes, noticing how meticulous she still was, even after a long morning. There was care in her movements, the same care he had noticed in her during planting.

  “Anyway,” Elin said after a pause, “we should check the rest of the fence. One loose post can be enough for a deer or worse.”

  Kael nodded, appreciating the shift in focus. Together they moved along the perimeter, Ash trailing, ears flicking toward the forest’s edge. Kael couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. The forest seemed… brighter somehow, almost like the sunlight lingered longer where Nysa had walked. A subtle warmth in the air, too faint to measure, but enough that he noticed.

  He shook his head again. “Focus,” he muttered under his breath.

  Elin glanced at him, eyes sharp. “Kael… stop talking to yourself. You look like someone just told you a riddle you can’t solve.”

  He tried to smile, but it faltered. “Maybe I did,” he said lightly.

  The rest of the day passed with steady work tightening fence rails, sharpening tools, sorting supplies. But every now and then, Kael’s gaze drifted to the treeline, to the part of the forest where she had stepped so naturally, teasing him. Where she had stayed, letting him know she would return.

  He caught himself imagining how she moved, curious and playful, not distant or formal. The thought made his chest tighten slightly not with fear, but with anticipation.

  Elin noticed the way he slowed at one rail, paused, and ran a hand along the edge as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Kael?” she said softly, stepping closer. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” he said, but the word felt hollow. He turned his attention back to the rail, but his thoughts wandered again.

  Ash padded quietly between them, tail low but alert, as if sensing Kael’s distraction. Kael knew the dog understood what he could not yet say: something had entered their clearing that would not leave, and it had a presence that changed everything.

  The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the freshly repaired fence. Elin stood back, brushing hands along her tunic. “We did well today,” she said. “The clearing’s safer.”

  Kael nodded, eyes drifting to the forest once more. “Safer,” he echoed. But the word felt incomplete. Not because of danger, but because of curiosity. Because of Nysa.

  And as the shadows grew longer, Kael knew it clearly: she would return. And when she did, nothing about the clearing or the three of them would be quite the same.