The ice was still groaning softly when Ryn sheathed his sword.
Steam rose in wisps from the cracks in the lake where Amelia fell. Speaking of, the same person was using Fritz as a human dryer to dry herself off.
Taylor stood off to the side, arms folded, already looking elsewhere.
Ryn wiped at his eye one last time.
Then he felt it.
From the corner of his vision, he felt movement. Shapes half-hidden behind tents. People who froze the moment he turned his head, then hid as he made eye contact with them.
He didn't call them out.
A small figure broke from the cluster.
She hesitated after only a few steps.
The rabbitfolk girl stood there, ears twitching nervously beneath her hood, hands clasped so tightly around a wooden bowl that her knuckles had gone pale.
She glanced back once, as if checking for permission, then took another step forward.
Instead, he relaxed his posture and stepped away from the lake.
"…Captain," she said softly.
Ryn turned fully toward her.
"Yes?"
