The town was loud.
Carts creaked over stone, a butcher argued about weight, children ran between adults who pretended not to see them. Smoke from cooking oil drifted into the road.
Ruan walked through it.
Steel plates dulled by dust hung from his shoulders. Leather straps darkened by sweat, a cloak stiff where something had dried into it days before. He carried no banner. No companions followed him.
A woman glanced once and moved her basket to the other arm. A dog sniffed near his boot, then lost interest.
No one asked where he came from.
He paused in front of a small bistro. Steam fogged the open doorway. Inside, bowls clattered and someone laughed too loudly at a joke already finished.
A worker wiped his hands on his apron and looked up.
"You eating?"
Ruan looked at the tables. People sat shoulder to shoulder. Hands reached across each other for food. Warm, but crowded.
He looked at the empty space near the door, then at the tables again.
"…No."
He turned before the man could answer.
***
Trees swallowed the road not far outside town.
He stopped only when the voices faded. The forest dimmed early; evening lived under the branches long before the sun disappeared. Ruan gathered fallen wood, stacked it, and lit a fire without needing to think about it.
From his pack he took dried meat and a few vegetables. He cooked them together in a small pan, watching the flames rather than the food.
He sat on a fallen log and ate.
The taste meant nothing.
Metal shifted softly behind him.
Ruan only looked.
A small figure stood just beyond the firelight, wrapped in a cloak too large for him. He had stopped at the edge of the light as if it were a boundary he did not have permission to cross.
His gaze dropped to the figure's feet.
Iron links circled the figure's ankles. One broken. One still hanging.
He did not step forward. He watched the fire.
Ruan ate another bite.
After a moment he pushed the plate across the ground. It slid over dirt and stopped near the figure's feet. He did not look at him again.
Silence stretched.
Then the figure knelt slowly and picked up the plate with both hands. He ate quickly at first. Too quickly. He stopped, swallowed, and tried again.
His shoulders trembled.
No sound came out.
Ruan glanced once toward him, then back to the fire. He shifted a piece of burning wood closer. The heat reached a little farther into the dark.
The figure lowered his head and continued eating, slower now.
They sat on opposite sides of the same fire until the wood burned low.
***
Morning light filtered through the trees.
The fire had gone cold.
The plate was clean.
Ruan tightened the strap of his pack and stepped back onto the road.
After a few paces, he stopped.
There were two sets of footprints in the dirt behind him.
One larger.
One smaller, the toes splayed wide in the soft dirt.
He stood a moment.
Then he faced the road again.
He did not call out.
He walked on.
After a moment, the smaller footsteps followed.