The fire crackled low, its glow throwing long, gentle shadows across the camp. The clearing was quiet save for the hum of insects and the occasional rustle of leaves, the Whispering Wilds holding their breath as if listening.
The little elf girl, Elara, sat curled beside Lyra, her small hands clutching the edge of the warrior's cloak. Her bright green-flecked eyes lingered on Rael, studying him with an intensity that felt far older than her years.
At last, she spoke, her voice soft but clear.
"When you smile, it feels soft… like moonlight. Not like the sun."
The words hung in the air, fragile as spider silk.
Alice's brows drew together. "Moonlight? That's… the first time I've heard someone compared that way. Usually it's always the sun."
Lyra tilted her head, looking at Rael with a curious glint. "Moonlight… softer, but distant too. Hm." She didn't say more, but the thought clearly unsettled her.
Rael blinked, caught off guard. "I—" He stopped, unsure how to respond.
Herbert chuckled low, tapping his pipe against a stone. "Children speak in feelings, not riddles. Don't weigh her words too heavily."
Elara pouted at that, folding her arms. "But I meant it."
Alice's frown softened. "Different… but safe. That's what she said, wasn't it?"
Elara gave a small nod, then buried her face shyly against Lyra's sleeve.
Lyra laughed quietly, though her eyes never left Rael. "Safe is enough for me."
A moment passed before Daren finally broke his silence. "If anything, moonlight's a blessing. It doesn't burn, doesn't blind—just guides you when the night's too dark. That's worth something." His voice was steady, but his eyes were thoughtful, as if weighing the words more than the others.
The tension began to ease. Alice pulled a blanket over Elara's shoulders, and the girl giggled softly when Lyra mussed her hair. The mood shifted, lighter now, as if the fire itself had grown warmer.
Rael sat a little apart, watching the scene. For the first time since they had met, Elara's laughter rang out freely. He found himself smiling without realizing it.
"Rael," Elara suddenly said, peeking at him from behind Lyra. "Why don't you look like the others? You feel… different."
Silence followed. Rael blinked again, words failing him.
This time Herbert only puffed at his pipe and said lightly, "Children notice things the rest of us overlook. Sometimes it's just the heart speaking, nothing more."
Alice still looked thoughtful, but she let it drop. Lyra exchanged a glance with her, as if silently agreeing to leave it there for now.
The forest around them whispered softly, and a hush settled again. Finally, Herbert rose, brushing off his cloak. "Enough talk. Let's think of safety before sleep."
Rael nodded and stood. Together, the two moved around the clearing, setting up their crude ward: vines stretched between branches, tiny bells tied with dried herbs that would rattle at the faintest disturbance. It wasn't much, but enough to warn of beasts straying too close.
"Not strong," Herbert muttered, fastening the last knot, "but a ward doesn't need strength. Just enough to remind the dark it isn't welcome."
When they returned, Alice was already dozing against her pack, Lyra was humming a soft tune to lull Elara to sleep, and Daren had seated himself on watch, his blade across his knees and eyes scanning the tree line.
Rael lay down near the fire. The warmth seeped into his tired limbs, and for a moment, the weight of the day eased. Around him, the quiet rhythm of breathing wove into the song of the forest.
And so, under the silver gaze of the moon, the group rested. They were safe, for now—though Elara's words lingered in the minds of more than one of them, like an echo waiting to resurface.