Riven was still sitting with his back against the tree trunk when the woman spoke again.
"You haven't answered," Ashtoria said softly but firmly, her piercing gaze fixed on him. "What was your reason for deciding to save me last night?"
Ashtoria remembered it vividly. If her poisoned, wounded body hadn't collapsed at the right moment, those two siblings might have already died at her hands. And if that had happened… she would have immediately become prey to the white-haired man hunting her. Was this coincidence? The irony was bitter. She couldn't tell if she should be grateful or resentful.
Riven finally let out a long sigh. "Let's just say you got lucky." He stared straight ahead, his voice flat.
"You happened to run into me at that time."
But in his heart, he added bitterly,
'Because if you'd run into the usual me… I would've left you behind without a second thought.'
Ashtoria blinked, dissatisfied with the answer. Her lips curved faintly. "That's not an answer," she murmured coldly.
Riven finally chose honesty. "My sister insisted. She wanted to help you. And I…" he paused, lowering his head, "…I made a promise to myself to try living better. So, I decided to go along and save you. That's all."
He quickly turned it around, his eyes sharp. "Now, tell me, why was that man chasing you?"
Ashtoria held her breath for a split second, crafting an answer in her mind. When she spoke again, her voice was flat. "Because I'm a noble from Westford. That man was an infiltrator from Mordune, aided by traitors. Of course they want me dead."
Riven studied her closely, clearly not fully convinced, but chose not to press further. The white-haired man's words from last night echoed in his head, along with the name "Aria" the woman had just used. A foolish thought flickered in his mind, but he shook it off quickly.
Ashtoria, on the other hand, fell into a long silence.
Riven observed her movements. Even though she had shown enough strength to hurl him against a rock with ease and choke him unconscious, he still felt the need to confirm something. Last night, she had looked like someone teetering on the edge of death.
"Are you feeling any better now?" he asked, his tone calmer this time, with a hint of worry behind it.
Ashtoria didn't get the chance to answer. A rustling came from the bushes, followed by a strange snort. A wild boar emerged, its hindquarters soaked in blood, breathing heavily. The animal looked desperate, perhaps just escaping another predator's grasp. Its eyes were wild, full of rage, and now locked directly onto them.
Riven shot to his feet. His hand reached for his sword, his eyes flicking quickly toward his sister, who was still busy washing their clothes. He scanned the area, relieved to see no others nearby. If there had been a herd, things would've been far messier.
He drew a deep breath, readying himself. But before he could take a step, a flash of red streaked past.
Ashtoria had already moved. Her body seemed to float, then CRACK!—her heel smashed into the boar's skull with brutal force. Bone shattered instantly, blood spraying across the ground and her bare feet. The animal didn't even have time to squeal before collapsing lifelessly.
Riven froze. His throat went dry, and he swallowed hard.
The woman stood over the carcass, her red hair whipping in the wind, blood dripping from her foot. For an instant, her eyes glowed crimson, then dimmed again.
And just like that, lunch had arrived at their feet.
.
The scent of roasting meat filled the air. Riven stood over a simple spit: two stacks of stones supported thin iron rods, with skewers of wild boar meat lined neatly across them. Red-orange flames danced in the glowing coals, slowly searing the salted, spiced chunks. Every so often, Riven turned the skewers deftly to ensure even cooking.
Having grown up wandering and sleeping in the wild, he had slowly honed his survival skills—tracking, finding water, even simple fire-making. But the two things he excelled at most were hunting and cooking.
He knew game meat never tasted right without seasoning, so he always carried simple spices on his travels—salt, pepper, dried herbs that could last. With them, even the most meager meal in the forest could feel somewhat worthy.
Melly, crouched close to the fire, swallowed again and again. Her stomach had been growling nonstop. The aroma of meat dripping fat onto the coals made a sizzling hiss and released a mouthwatering scent that nearly broke her self-control.
"Brother, is it ready yet?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as she stared hungrily at the browning skewers.
Riven turned to her, a faint smile on his face. "Just a little longer. Almost done."
Soon after, lunch was ready. Riven laid out a broad leaf as a plate. On top, he placed six large skewers of steaming roast meat.
Melly moved fast, snatching up the two biggest skewers—yet instead of keeping both, she handed one straight to Ashtoria. With cheerful sincerity, she said, "Here! Eat up. Even if he doesn't look it, my brother's a great cook!"
Riven could only sigh, glancing briefly at Ashtoria. Deep down, he doubted a noblewoman as refined as her would even touch a poor man's rough meal.
Ashtoria looked down at the skewer in her hand. The meat chunks were as large as a man's arm, browned with glistening juices. She considered it for a moment, then took a small bite.
Riven's eyes widened. She was actually eating it.
Melly beamed instantly, her voice bright. "It's good, right? My brother's got talent as a chef. Just wait until you try his grilled fish!"
Ashtoria gave a small nod, her face expressionless. Yet she calmly bit into the meat again, chewing slowly but with a certain elegance. For some reason, the sight made Riven's chest feel warm. A trace of pride slipped in without him noticing.
He took his own portion. They ate in quiet, the only sounds being the crackling fire and distant forest birds.
As he chewed, Riven thought about his plans. He needed to head to the nearest city, Glimfell, to sell the pile of weapons stored in his cart. If he pushed hard, it would take a day and a half. But no horse could endure such strain without rest. Since he wasn't in a rush, five days at a steady pace would suffice.
For today, they would rest here until tomorrow.
His eyes slid toward Ashtoria. He wasn't sure if the woman would continue traveling with him and Melly. Her face was unreadable.
"Aria," Riven said after swallowing a bite, "what are your plans now?"
Ashtoria glanced briefly at him. A faint smear of grease clung to her cheek, though her face remained blank. The sight almost made Riven chuckle, but he held it back.
"I don't know yet," she answered flatly.
In truth, Ashtoria had a plan: to go to Glimfell and meet with a city lord who still remained loyal to her. But for now, she chose to keep it hidden. Her curiosity toward Riven hadn't faded, and there was still an answer she sought from him.
"We're heading to Glimfell," Riven said. "We've got business there. If you're still unsure, just come along with us. "Once we get there, you can report what happened to you. They'll protect you."
His eyes were serious as he spoke. He knew this woman was strong. But still, anyone would be shaken after being hunted, attacked, and nearly killed alone in the middle of the night. He only wanted to give her direction, something to hold onto so she wouldn't feel adrift.
Ashtoria stayed quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod.
Silence followed. The fire had died down to faint orange embers. Riven drew a breath, then lifted his brown eyes to meet her crimson gaze.
"Since we'll be traveling together to Glimfell…" his voice was steady, "…before we part ways there, can you teach me how to become a Lawbearer?"