The rav root in Blue's hand was beginning to look less like food and more like an abstract sculpture. She turned it, squinted, and tried to persuade it into cooperating by sheer willpower. This did nothing. The knife snagged on another stubborn knot and sent a fragment of peel flying toward Soren, who ducked with unnecessary agility.
"Sorry!" Blue said, wincing.
Soren glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. "It's alright. I've dodged worse."
Fen, sitting cross-legged with a whetstone in hand, muttered, "From her?"
"No," Soren said. "Mostly from you."
Fen grunted, but didn't argue.
Around them the campfire crackled, flames shifting from deep blue at the base to orange along the edges. Twilight had fully settled in, painting the sky with a purple haze that reminded Blue—unexpectedly—of cheap blueberry candy. Something sugary and artificial from home that did not belong here in a forest where even the shadows felt older than her entire family tree.
She focused again on the root.
"I think I'm holding this wrong," she admitted.
Tessa looked up from her cutting board, took in Blue's awkward grip, and nodded once. "Yes."
Blue opened her mouth, then closed it. "Would you like to elaborate?"
"I was being polite."
"That was polite?"
Tessa slid closer and gently repositioned Blue's fingers. "Hold the blade like this. Let the knife do the work. You're fighting it way too hard."
Blue exhaled. "I knew it was personal."
"It shouldn't be," Tessa said, "but somehow with you, it is."
Blue blinked, unsure if that was an insult or a compliment. She decided to take it as the second one.
Fen's ear twitched. "The forest is too quiet."
Blue paused mid-slice. "Should I be worried?"
"No," Tessa said.
"Yes," Fen said at the same time.
Ryn, stretched out on a folding stool, waved his hand lazily. "He means it's quieter than usual, not dangerous. Probably seasonal."
Fen's eyes flicked toward him. "Seasonal silence is still silence."
Ryn sighed and went back to writing.
Blue leaned toward Tessa. "Are they always like this?"
"Fen's always on edge," Tessa whispered. "Ryn's always telling him to relax. Soren pretends he's not listening but always is. The scout ignores them all."
The scout, sitting by his bedroll, didn't acknowledge this, which proved Tessa's point.
"And you?" Blue asked.
"I supervise."
Blue lifted her chin in admiration. "Respect."
Tessa smirked.
She returned to peeling and was surprised to find the motion easier now. Slower, but cleaner. The root started looking less mangled and more intentionally prepared. She was halfway through the next one when Soren came over and settled beside her with a small pouch.
"What's that?" Blue asked.
"Salt."
She blinked. "Salt has a bag? Like a cute little traveling purse?"
Soren chuckled. "Don't mock it. This bag has saved more arguments than you'd expect."
"How does salt prevent arguments?"
Tessa answered from across the fire. "If Fen cooks without it, everyone argues."
Fen shot her a look. "It's optional."
"No," Tessa said. "It's vital."
Blue grinned and continued peeling. "So I guess you all have roles?"
Fen muttered, "I keep people alive."
Ryn replied without glancing up, "No. You make them nervous."
"I protect them."
"You pace," Tessa said, very matter-of-fact.
Fen looked at her sharply. "Someone has to."
Soren added, "You could sit sometimes."
Fen glared. "Sitting is a vulnerability."
Blue coughed to hide a laugh.
Soren elbowed her gently. Not flirting—friendly. "You'll get used to him. Or he'll get used to you. One of those will happen eventually."
Fen snarled under his breath. "She's not staying."
Blue nearly dropped her root.
Ryn looked over the top of his notebook. "It's not decided either way."
"I decide for myself," Blue said quickly, cheeks heating. "I just need information. Lanternwalk might have it. I'm not… I'm not planning anything beyond that."
Fen's expression didn't soften, but something in his glare shifted—less hostility, more calculation.
"Good," he said simply.
Blue wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a warning.
She finished the last root and handed the pieces to Tessa, who tossed them into the pot with a mixture of herbs that released a warm, peppery scent. Something in Blue's stomach tightened—not hunger, but an odd comfort she hadn't felt since she left home. Food smelled the same everywhere: like someone, somewhere, was preparing a pause from the chaos of daily life.
Soren offered her a cup of water. "Here. You've been working hard."
"Oh, thanks," Blue said, wiping her hands on her trousers before taking it.
Fen muttered, "Hard is not the word."
"Fen," Tessa said sharply.
Fen rolled his eyes. "She did fine."
Blue perked up. "Was that praise?"
"No."
"It sounded like praise."
"It wasn't."
"I think it was," Soren said, amused.
Fen stood abruptly. "I'm going to check the perimeter."
Blue blinked. "Did I scare him off?"
"Probably," Soren whispered.
Tessa shook her head. "You just confused him."
Ryn nodded. "He's not used to people talking to him this much."
Blue frowned. "He talks plenty."
"No," Ryn said. "He lectures."
Blue snorted. "True."
They set the pot over the fire and let it simmer. The scent deepened, growing richer and thicker, until Blue could practically see the steam coiling upward like tiny ghosts.
She hugged her knees. "Can I ask something?"
Soren replied immediately, "Yes."
Fen, from somewhere near the tree line, shouted, "No!"
Blue laughed despite herself. "Why are you all together? I mean—why travel as a group? You don't seem like you'd choose each other."
Tessa said, "We didn't."
"Oh."
Ryn closed his notebook and rested his chin on his hand. "It wasn't one dramatic story. Just… pieces. Fen found work with us on escort duty. Tessa and I trained under the same guild master long ago. Soren was a runaway noble. The scout needed coin."
Blue blinked. "Wait, Soren was a what?"
Soren kicked a pebble. "Not relevant."
"Very relevant," Blue corrected.
"Extremely relevant," Tessa agreed.
Soren groaned. "It's not a story worth telling."
Ryn added mildly, "He stole a horse."
Blue gasped. "A glitter-horse?!"
"That tradition came later," Soren said through gritted teeth.
Blue laughed so hard she nearly dropped her cup.
Fen returned, brushing pine needles from his boots. "Why is she laughing?"
Soren shot Blue a warning look. Blue sealed her lips dramatically and shook her head.
"No reason."
Fen studied her for a moment longer than she liked, then sat down beside the fire again.
Tessa ladled out bowls of stew and passed them around. Blue accepted hers reverently—the first warm meal she'd had since arriving in this bizarre, inconsistent world—and took a spoonful.
"This is amazing," she said honestly.
Tessa nodded, pleased. "Thank you."
Blue turned to Fen. "You want some?"
Fen scoffed. "Do I look helpless?"
Blue blinked. "No. You look like someone who enjoys protein."
Ryn choked again.
Fen snatched the bowl from her hand with a scowl, but he ate it without complaint.
Blue smirked. She was learning his tells.
He complained nonstop but accepted everything.
The conversation drifted—small things, like the weather, unusual tracks they'd seen on the road, how long it'd take to reach Lanternwalk, whether the scout had truly seen a shadow beast last week or just a large dog.
Blue didn't understand half of it, but she floated among their words with ease, enjoying the rhythm. They were strange, rough around the edges, nothing like her group of neighbors back home who only talked about grocery discounts or utility bills.
But there was something familiar, too.
Something human.
Something like a group that had been through enough to know when to choose laughter over silence.
Blue's bowl was halfway empty when she noticed Ryn staring at her.
Not in a creepy way—just studying.
"What?" she asked, self-conscious.
"You're adjusting," he said. "Faster than expected."
"I'm not adjusting," Blue protested. "I'm… coping. And peeling vegetables horribly."
"That is adjusting," Soren said.
Fen rolled his eyes. "Humans are dramatic."
Blue pointed her spoon at him. "You're dramatic."
Fen froze. "Explain."
"You narrate tension like it's your job."
The scout looked up from cleaning his knife. "She's right."
Fen turned. "You, too?"
Soren leaned to Blue. "This is bonding."
Blue tilted her head. "Fen complaining is bonding?"
"Yes," Ryn said. "This is Fen's love language."
Fen's ears twitched violently. "I will leave."
Tessa stopped him with a single glare. Fen sat back down.
Blue smiled into her bowl.
They ate, talked, teased, and stirred the fire until embers glowed like scattered jewels.
When the stew was finished, Blue took the pot to the stream, rinsed it with freezing water that made her hiss through her teeth, and scrubbed until she could see her own distorted reflection in the metal.
The forest hummed.
Owls called overhead.
Crickets chirped softly.
Ryn joined her halfway, handing her a cloth. "Here. Dry it before it rusts."
Blue nodded, accepted the cloth, and wiped carefully.
"Hey, Ryn?"
"Mm?"
"Does this world have… rules about magic?"
Ryn paused. "What do you mean?"
"Like, can everyone use it? Is it rare? Dangerous? Do people… accidentally light things on fire?"
"Some do."
"Is that bad?"
"It depends what they light on fire."
Blue swallowed. "Okay… but how do you know if you have it?"
"You feel it," Ryn said. "Like a muscle you forgot you had."
Blue looked down at her hands.
Ryn watched her for a second too long, then said, "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Blue lied badly. "Just curious."
Ryn didn't press.
They returned to the fire, which was now lower. The bedrolls were laid out. Tessa yawned. Soren stretched. Fen resumed pacing.
Blue settled by the fire, pulling her blanket over her legs. Warmth soaked through her bones.
As the group drifted into their own evening rituals, Blue's eyelids grew heavy.
She didn't think about home.
Or falling between worlds.
Or whether any of this made sense.
She just listened to their voices.
Soft.
Close.
Familiar enough to keep her breathing evenly as sleep tugged at her.
Fen's steps slowed for a moment.
Tessa checked the pot one last time.
Ryn closed his notebook.
Soren hummed under his breath.
No dramatic statements.
No sudden revelations.
Just the steady, messy, normal rhythm of people living in the same place at the same time.
Blue drifted off with the firelight warming her cheek and the taste of stew still lingering faintly on her tongue.