Lyra was already waiting when Hassian stepped into the tall grass at the edge of Killima Village. He hadn’t even fully crossed into the plains yet, bow slung across his back, Tau trotting dutifully beside him, when he saw her — perched on a rock just outside the hunting shack. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her there. It was the fourth time this week. She gave a small wave when she spotted him, her face bright despite the clouds rolling in overhead.

“Hey, Hassian! Tau!” Her voice carried just enough warmth to make him slow his stride. Tau barked once and bounded toward her before he could say anything. Hassian sighed. -Traitor.

By the time he reached them, Lyra was kneeling in the grass, gently holding Tau’s face in her hands, her forehead nearly touching his. “Did you miss me?” she crooned. “I brought you a treat today. And I guess you can share it with your grumpy friend.” Hassian raised a brow as she pulled two neatly wrapped campfire biscuits from her satchel. One had bits of cooked sernuk meat, and the other… was definitely sweet. She offered the meat-filled one to Tau, who took it without hesitation and flopped at her feet.
She extended the second one toward Hassian. “Figured if I’m bothering you daily, the least I can do is offer you something edible. I’m still learning, but Reth gave me some tips.”
“I don’t need charity,” Hassian said, though his voice lacked venom. His emerald eyes flicked to the biscuit, then back to her.
Lyra shrugged. “It’s not charity. It’s appreciation. You didn’t have to answer my question yesterday about how to tell if a trail’s still fresh. But you did. And I didn’t miss when you circled back to show me the prints.”
He took the biscuit without another word. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that pushed people away — it was a quiet that weighed things. Like every word he spoke cost him something, and he wasn’t willing to waste any. He didn’t eat it right away, but she didn’t mind. She was already turning her attention back to Tau.
“Anyway,” she went on, brushing grass from her knees, “today I actually tracked a sernuk herd out near the old ruins. I didn’t take a shot — still don’t trust my aim. But I followed them a ways. Not bad, right?” She beamed up at him like a student waiting for a grade.
Hassian gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. “Good instincts.”
Just that. Two words. But coming from him, they felt like a small ceremony.
Before he turned to walk away, his voice lowered, rough and steady, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lyra’s breath caught. “I’ll be here.”

Bonding

That evening, Lyra joined her friends around a fire just beyond the village’s edge. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with golds and purples. Simon passed her a bowl of stew and smirked. “Let me guess — another visit to the hunter?”
“She brings that dog treats,” Lexi said. “Every time. I’ve seen it.”
Saraya grinned. “Now the dog? — she’s working on both of them.”
Lyra rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “He’s helping me learn. And Tau’s a plumehound.”
“Is he?” Rex asked, leaning back against a stump. “Or is he just standing there brooding while you narrate your progress?”
“I’m pretty sure she could recite a weather report and he’d nod like it was poetry,” Simon added.
Lyra shook her head, laughing now. “You’re all ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Saraya said, grinning, “but you’ve got that look. The one that says you’re already planning what to bring him tomorrow.”
“I might be,” Lyra said, stirring her stew. “I’m just trying to learn.”
“Right,” Rex drawled, raising his bowl. “Academic interest.”
“We know what you want to learn.” Saraya smirked.
They all laughed, and Lyra laughed with them — but her gaze drifted toward the darkened plains, where she knew the shack stood quiet under the stars.

Hassian’s Thoughts

That night, at his Grove in Bahari Bay, Hassian sat with Tau at his side. The biscuit she gave him had been simple — sweet, but not overly so. Just enough. Like her.
He hadn’t expected her to come back after the first day. Or the second. But she had. Again and again. He briefly thought about his prayer but quickly pushed it aside. Each visit came with a new question. Not the kind people asked to be polite — the kind that looked for meaning. That asked why, not just how.
She smiled often. Even when he didn’t answer right away. Even when he said very little. He wasn’t sure if she was naïve, or just unafraid.
Tau huffed, stretched, and nudged his head into Hassian’s side. “I know,” Hassian muttered, reaching to scratch behind his ear. “You like her. You don’t need to keep telling me.”
Still, he didn’t stop scratching.
He looked up at the stars, then down at his hand — and then toward the small folded paper in his pack. A note from Ashura. On which Hassian had noted the date he received it and who had brought it to him He picked up his journal wanting to write but after a while he realized he’d only written a single word. –Lyra

Regrets

The next morning, Lyra came up the steps of the guild shack like the morning itself, smile bright enough to outshine the sun. “Hello, Hassian,” she said softly, like greeting a friend.
He looked up from the ledger, the word catching him off guard. “Hello.” The syllable felt stiff on his tongue.
She lingered, waiting. “Busy morning?”
“Mm.” He didn’t look at her. Pen scratched across the page, a sound sharper than he intended.
Her smile faltered. “Right. Well… I’ll let you get back to it.”
Before he could think of something better, she was already turning.
“Lyra!” another voice called.
Reth, strolling down the nearby path, stopped short when he saw her. His grin came easy. “You’re glowing today—sunlight suits you.”
She laughed, surprised, the sound light and warm as she fell in step with him. Their words carried back in pieces, laughter threading between them.
Hassian’s jaw tightened. He told himself it didn’t matter—except it did. She’d come to him first, smiling, and he’d given her nothing. And then Reth swooped in, quick as a hawk, and she went with him like it was the natural thing to do. His pen stilled over the ledger. He wasn’t about to chase her down the path like a fool… but still, the thought of her laughter belonging to someone else left an ache he didn’t care to name.
Empty

By the time she reached the marketplace, Lyra’s smile had dulled at the edges. She’d gone to the guild hoping—well, she wasn’t sure what she was hoping for. A real conversation, maybe. Something more than Hassian’s one-word answers and the scrape of his pen.
He was kind to her sometimes. Patient, even. But other times, it was like he built a wall she couldn’t climb, no matter how she tried.
Reth’s easy grin lingered in her mind, though. He never made her guess where she stood. Talking with him was like walking into sunshine—warm, simple, uncomplicated. But it wasn’t the same. Not what she wanted. Because when Hassian looked at her, really looked at her, it felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet. And that was the part she couldn’t seem to give up, no matter how hard he made her work for it.