The clearing just in front of the Grove was wide and sun-drenched, ringed with pine trees and long grass. Hassian had marked off a generous space with a few weathered logs and standing stones, and across the center line stood a neat row of wooden targets, each set at increasing distance. The soft hum of nearby bees drifted over from a flowering bush, and Tau lounged lazily in the shade of a tree, tail flicking now and then.

Lyra arrived first—unsurprisingly—and was met with a curt nod and the ghost of a smile. “Hello beautiful,” Hassian said, not breaking stride as he adjusted the fletching on one of the new dispel arrows.

“Hello, handsome,” she returned sweetly, reaching up to kiss his cheek before slipping past him to set down her basket near a flat rock she deemed would make an ideal picnic table. “You sure about this?” she asked in a lower voice. “You don’t have to be nice to them.”

“I’m not being nice,” Hassian replied without looking up. “I’m making sure they don’t get you killed.”

She grinned, proud and utterly unsurprised.

The others arrived in a noisy clump not long after—Lexi first, flinging down a knapsack with a dramatic sigh; Rex and Simon arguing over whose bow was strung better; and Saraya bringing up the rear with a box of hand pies balanced carefully in her arms.

“So this is real?” Simon said, eyes scanning the clearing. “We’re actually getting a lesson from the legend himself?”

“He’s gonna speak?!” Rex asked with mock awe, as if Hassian were some mountain spirit who only emerged every hundred years.

“Say one more thing like that and I’ll let the plumehound chew on you,” Hassian said mildly, glancing toward Tau.
Tau yawned.

Despite the usual banter, there was a quiet respect as they all settled in. They knew this was something rare. Hassian didn’t give away his time—or his skills—lightly. He began with a demonstration, moving like water through each motion as he strung a palium bow, fitted it with a dispel arrow, and loosed it clean into the farthest target. The arrow struck with a sharp thunk, flaring briefly with silvery light as it hit—marking a successful dispel.

“These arrows won’t trap the animal forever. But it gives you time to study your target. Time to act,” he said.

They took turns shooting, one by one. Hassian offered curt corrections where needed—adjusting Lexi’s grip, fixing Rex’s stance, reining in Simon’s overconfidence with a flat “That shot could’ve killed a tree. Maybe.”
But his attention lingered on Lyra.

She didn’t need praise, and he didn’t offer much. But when she struck the center of her target and turned with a smirk, he allowed himself the smallest nod of approval—and that was more than enough for her.

Between rounds, they picnicked on mismatched blankets and flat stones. Saraya’s hand pies were devoured in minutes. Simon shared a jug of spiced berry tea, and Lexi pulled out some smoked meat she’d cured herself. Lyra brought side dishes.

Hassian sat on a low rock at the edge of the group, not exactly in the middle of the fun, but not leaving either. Tau had claimed a spot beside him, one ear tilted toward the group, tail occasionally thumping when Lyra’s voice lifted in laughter.
He watched them all—bickering, teasing, stealing bites of each other’s food—and said little. To them, this was a lesson, maybe even a rare privilege. But for him, it was something else entirely. He wasn’t here to prove anything. He just needed to see, with his own eyes, that she was safe when he wasn’t beside her.
For so long, he’d thought peace was something earned—through strength, through solitude, through keeping everyone at a safe distance. But lying awake with her warmth pressed to his side the night before, he’d realized peace wasn’t taken by force. It was given freely, if you were lucky enough to be chosen by someone like her.
Lyra hadn’t just stepped into his life; she’d filled it. Laughter where silence used to live. Sunlight where shadows had settled. She’d reached him in ways no one ever had—without demand, without hesitation. Just steady, stubborn kindness until the walls stopped mattering.
Across the clearing, she threw her head back laughing at something Rex said, sunlight glinting off the streaks of gold in her hair. Hassian felt something in his chest settle—quiet and certain. Whatever came next, this was worth protecting.

“You always this generous with your time?” Saraya asked, breaking his thoughts. Her voice drew him back, but he carried the warmth of the moment with him, letting it settle like a steady flame behind his calm expression.
“No,” he said softly, eyes lingering on Lyra as she smiled, her hands busy with the blankets. “I pick my moments carefully. But some things… some people… are worth the effort.”

“He’s warming up to us,” Rex whispered loudly.

Lyra rolled her eyes. “He’s tolerating you for my sake.”

But Hassian cut in, voice quiet but steady. “You’ve stuck together. You look after each other. That counts for something.”

The group quieted for a beat, recognizing the compliment for what it was.

Later, when the sun began to drop lower in the sky and shadows stretched across the clearing, Hassian stood and shouldered his bow. “That’s enough for today. Practice what I showed you. Don’t shoot each other. Especially this one” he said, putting his hand on Lyra’s lower back and giving her a big smile which she chuckled at while shaking her head.

As the group gathered up their gear and belongings and headed toward the path back to Killima, Lyra stayed behind for a moment. “So,” she said, glancing over at him, “think we passed your test?”

He gave a small shrug. “Some of you aim better than you walk.”

She laughed, rising and brushing off her hands. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But I wanted to. You’ve learned a lot, stuck with it. So have they.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “It means a lot that you’d take the time.”

Hassian’s expression softened, eyes fixed on hers. “I trust you. But… I needed to see it for myself—that you’re safe when you’re with them and not me.”

Her chest tightened, and she pressed a hand to his arm. “I’m always safe with them… and with you.”

He nodded once, firmly, as if letting some tension slide away. Then his voice dropped lower, intimate. “Can I see you later?”

“You can see me whenever you want,” she answered, voice warm. Then, teasingly, she asked, “Want me to come by later?”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he said, thumb brushing over the back of her hand, a quiet promise in the gesture.