I woke to the sound of crackling fire.
I slowly opened my eyes, not in any hurry to return to the fever dream I had momentarily found respite from.
Nyssa was bent over a pot of soup, slowly stirring it with a ladle in her hand.
The smell of something hearty—meat and herbs—floated through the air. A surprising comfort, considering everything else about this forest screamed discomfort and danger.
She hadn't noticed I was awake yet.
Her movements were quiet. Efficient. The way she crouched low, weight balanced perfectly, muscles always coiled—this wasn't someone used to rest. It was instinctual. Warrior muscle memory.
Everything about her screamed predator in waiting.
She looked better in daylight though. Not softer. Just more... real.
Last night, under the firelight and stars, she had seemed like a wraith—half-shadow, half-threat.
Now, with sunlight cutting through the trees in golden shafts, I could see the sweat on her collarbone, the faint scar trailing down her neck, the sharp focus in her eyes.
It wasn't a bad view to wake up to, to be honest.
She stirred the pot once more, then sat back on her heels and looked over.
"You're awake," she said, voice flat but not unkind.
I blinked a few times, trying to push away the remnants of some weird dream. Something about a tree, glowing eyes... It had felt almost too vivid. But now, it slipped away from my mind before i could put a finger on it.
"Yeah," I said, voice raspy. "I didn't die in my sleep. Bonus points."
She didn't respond right away. Just ladled soup into a metal bowl and handed it to me. The thing was dented and scratched, probably scavenged from some ruins or abandoned camp.
But the soup? It smelled amazing.
"You cook often?" I asked.
"I cook when I don't want to starve."
I gave a low chuckle and took a sip. Burned my tongue a bit, but it was worth it. It had a kind of thick, earthy flavor. Wild herbs, maybe some root vegetables.
I glanced at her again as she sat back down across from me, arms resting on her knees. She didn't eat. Just watched.
"You don't trust me," I said.
"No."
"At least you're honest."
Another silence stretched between us, but it wasn't heavy. Not uncomfortable. Just the quiet of two people who didn't know what to say yet—and didn't feel the need to fill space with useless words.
I broke the silence first.
"So... What are your plans after this?"
Nyssa looked at me for a beat. Not in that typical "what a dumb question" way. More like she was weighing how much I deserved to know.
"Keep moving," she said finally.
"From what?"
"From things that don't stop chasing."
Cryptic. Of course.
I nodded slowly and slurped another spoonful of soup. Still too hot. Still worth it.
"Sounds rough."
"It is."
"Do you ever think about settling down? Finding somewhere quiet, planting vegetables, keeping chickens?"
She blinked, caught off guard for half a second. Then: "That's how you get killed."
"By chickens?"
"By thinking peace is permanent."
Harsh. But not wrong.
I chewed a bit of meat—yesterday's boar—and mulled over her words. Nyssa didn't talk like someone trying to be edgy.
She just was sharp. Hardened by something I hadn't seen yet. Maybe I never would.
"Okay then, Miss Doom and Gloom," I said, leaning back on my elbows. "How about this—if we do survive whatever's chasing you, and I don't die choking on another meatball… then what?"
She studied me again. Eyes narrowed slightly. Curious. Suspicious.
"You talk like this is temporary."
"Isn't it?"
"No."
She stood, brushing her hands on her pants. "Get up. Eat while walking if you have to. We're moving."
Just like that, the brief moment of peace was done.
I shoved the rest of the soup down and followed. She didn't wait, didn't look back to check if I was behind her. She just walked—silent and certain—through the underbrush, weaving between twisted trees and gnarled roots like she knew every step ahead.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Bond Progress with Nyssa: +2%
Current Sync Level: 14% — Observation Tier Active
New Trait Unlocked: "Predatory Grace" — copied from subject.
Effect: You move with quieter, sharper steps when within 10m of Nyssa.
The words shimmered faintly at the edge of my vision. Clean font. Minimal. No annoying chimes or dramatic flashes like a game UI. Just... there.
It felt normal now. Like breathing. Like blinking. I could almost forget no one else could see it.
I kept my distance but matched her pace, testing the system's new "grace." Sure enough, my boots didn't crunch the leaves as loud. My steps felt lighter. More deliberate.
Cheating? Maybe. But I'd take every advantage I could get.
"You're quieter," she said without turning.
"Am I?"
"Hmm."
Half a compliment, maybe. Either way, I liked that she noticed.
We moved through the forest in relative silence. Only the wind through the canopy and the occasional call of some distant, unseen beast filled the air.
The deeper we got, the stranger the trees looked—twisted, bent backward in places, some even arching over like they were hiding something beneath.
Eventually, I spoke again. Couldn't help it.
"So what is this place, anyway? Feels... off."
"Because it is," she said, scanning ahead. "The woods are part of an old convergence. Magic lives in the roots."
"Magic?"
She glanced back. "You don't believe in that?"
"Oh no, I believe it. I'm standing here talking to a girl with biceps and a scarred sword who dragged me out of the woods naked. I believe anything at this point. What i do want to know though, is how i can get out of this damned place"
She didn't react to the sarcasm, but I could've sworn I saw the corner of her lip twitch.
"You're not like others," she said eventually.
"Others?"
"Men I've met."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Don't. I haven't decided yet."
We kept walking.
Eventually, we reached a small ridge that overlooked a distant clearing. From this height, I could see faint trails of smoke—too organized for a wildfire, too scattered for one big camp.
A settlement?
"You planning to take me there?" I asked.
"No."
"Why not?"
"They'll hate you. Outsiders aren't welcome."
"You're an outsider."
"I'm useful."
Fair point.
We crouched there for a moment longer, watching.
"You're thinking," I said.
"Always."
"About what?"
"If I should bring you."
"And what does your gut say?"
She looked at me.
Then turned.
And walked.
"I'm still deciding."