“You betrayed us,” Lexi said, dramatically flopping across Lyra’s couch like she’d just taken a fatal arrow to the chest.

“I did not betray you,” Lyra protested, adjusting the strap on her quiver. “I simply did a scouting run.”

“With him,” Simon added, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway with a look of pure mock offense. “While we sat at home, planning this trip like responsible adults.”

“I brought back notes,” Lyra said.

“Oooooh, notes,” Rex echoed, tossing his hands in the air. “Did the notes mention the part where you two got to frolic through the deadly woods together, slaying beasts while we were stuck in Bahari eating burnt chappa burgers?”

“First of all,” Lyra said, trying not to laugh, “no one frolicked. Secondly, Hassian says you're not ready for the deeper parts yet.”

Saraya raised a brow. “But you are?”

Lyra smirked. “I had a guide. A very intense, judgmental guide who definitely threatened to carry me home if I so much as winced.”

That earned a round of snickers.

“Fine,” Rex grinned. “You’re off the hook. But you’re leading us now, Trailblazer. If we get eaten, it’s on you.”

The Elderwood Expedition

They entered the Elderwood just before noon, the sun bright over Bahari behind them—until the first step past the boundary changed everything.
The light dimmed. A strange lavender haze clung to the underbrush. Even Simon, who rarely looked impressed by anything other than weapon polish, let out a low whistle.

“This place is weird,” Lexi said. “I love it.”

They kept to the area Hassian had shown Lyra—Mitana Grove—staying near the creek where ogopuu tended to gather. Slime glistened across the ground like a warning sign.

“Alright,” Lyra said, kneeling behind a low patch of bushes. “We’ve got blues and emeralds near the water. The wavebacks might come later, but we’ll keep to the easier ones for now.”

“Define ‘easier,’” Rex muttered, loading his bow. “Because these things vomit slime.”

As if summoned, a loud splurt echoed from the creek, followed by Simon’s startled yelp.

Lexi burst out laughing. “Oh no. First slime casualty of the day!”

“It hit my leg!” Simon called, horrified. “Why is it warm?!”

Lyra snorted. “Okay, points to Rex. He bet Simon would get hit first.”

“Rude,” Simon muttered, flicking his fingers and trying not to gag.

From across the grove, an ogopuu bolted upright on its hind legs and ran—arms flailing, legs pumping like a greased chappa on stilts.

“Oh stars,” Saraya wheezed. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

“I told you!” Rex crowed. “They run like drunk carnival puppets!”

They broke into scattered laughter—until a second ogopuu gave a shriek and charged.

The team scattered like startled sernuks.

“Target the blue one on the left!” Lyra shouted, already loosing her first arrow. “Aim center mass, four hits minimum!”

“On it!” Saraya replied, spinning and firing in fluid motion, her accuracy as crisp as always.

Lexi darted between trees, a blur as she closed the distance. She struck, danced back, and ducked just in time to avoid another slime blast.
“Missed me!” she called, triumphant.

“Not me!” Rex cried. He slipped on a patch of green gunk, went sliding across a rock, and crashed into a log with a squawk.

“You okay?” Simon called between shots.

“I was born to suffer,” Rex groaned, wiping slime from his shoulder.

The ogopuu fled under their coordinated assault, and Lyra sprinted to cut off its path. Her bow thrummed—one, two, three, four shots—each solid, each precise. The creature stumbled, shimmered, and collapsed like a blink of stardust.

“Nice shot!” Simon said, clapping her on the back as he joined her.

They regrouped under a tall moss-draped tree, breathless and grinning.

“Okay,” Saraya said, laughing. “That was chaos.”

“Beautiful chaos,” Rex said. “And I smell like a sewage pond.”

“You always do,” Lexi said sweetly, and he gasped like she’d stabbed him.

"You have such a big nose. That's why you smell everything." Rex answered.

Lyra dropped to a knee beside a pool, washing slime off her arm . “Alright,” she said. “One round down. Who’s ready for round two?”

“Can I shoot first this time?” Rex asked. “I feel like the ogopuu and I have some unresolved tension.”

They ended up staying out longer than planned, each of them managing at least one solid takedown—though Simon remained the reigning slime target by day’s end.
Their teamwork clicked better than Lyra had even hoped. Saraya’s calm guidance, Lexi’s speed and instinct, Simon’s heavy power, Rex’s unpredictable but strangely effective moves—every bit of it worked.

And as they finally trudged toward the Elderwood stables, covered in mud, slime, and pride, Lexi slung an arm around Lyra’s shoulders.
“You did good, boss.”

Lyra smiled. “We all did.”

“No more secrets next time, though,” Saraya said, nudging her playfully. “We get to go first.”

“Deal,” Lyra said, though in her heart she knew there were still some things only Hassian would show her. But this? This would be theirs.
Their wild, ridiculous, slime-covered first hunt in the Elderwood.
And it was perfect.

Late but Victorious

The moment Lyra and her crew burst through the front door—mud-splattered, slime-streaked, and loud enough to rattle the windows—Hassian was already standing in the kitchen archway, arms crossed and jaw tight. She caught the look immediately.

“I’m fine,” she said before he could speak, brushing a smear of dried green slime off her sleeve. “We’re all fine.”

“I can see that,” Hassian replied, voice low and even, but his eyes told another story. They swept over her from head to toe, checking for injuries with a precision that made her stomach flutter.

Then his gaze locked on hers—serious, unwavering.
“I’m not going to flip out,” he said. “Because you made it back safe.”
A beat.
“But,” he added, stepping forward, “you’re late.”
There was a grumble of stifled oohs from the rest of the crew, but none of them dared say it aloud.

Lyra blinked. “I didn’t realize we had a curfew.”

“You didn’t.” He stepped even closer, his voice dipping, quieter. “I’ve just been standing here… thinking about a thousand different things that could’ve gone wrong.”

Her expression softened, and she reached out to brush his knuckles with her thumb.
“Well,” she said gently, “nothing did.”

Hassian exhaled through his nose and muttered, “Still late.”

Saraya flopped onto the couch with theatrical despair. “So this is our life now—survive a death march, then sit here while Lyra gets grounded like a teenager past curfew.”

Simon chimed in, “I’m not saying we got slimed for nothing, but if there’s no trophy involved, I’m writing the mayor.”

“I think the slime is the trophy,” Lexi added, holding up the sleeve of her jacket, which was soaked and faintly glowing green. “That or a fungal infection.”

“I told you not to run through it!” Lyra called over her shoulder as she followed Hassian toward the kitchen.

“Don’t blame me,” Rex said, “I was pushed.”

“No one pushed you,” Saraya said.

“Well I fell in with style.”

Hassian turned to the stove, giving them a faintly amused look, but his voice remained dry. “Dinner’s ready. If you animals can wash your hands and behave like people for five minutes.”

“He made dinner?” Lexi stage-whispered to Lyra, trailing after her.

“Chappa stew,” Lyra said with a grin. “I smell onions and roasted vegetables.”

“And there’s bread,” Hassian added. “But eat it fast. If Rex gets to it first, there won’t be any left.”

“Hey!” Rex called, already reaching for a bowl. “That’s slander!”

The meal was simple but comforting, served warm in mismatched bowls around the table. It wasn’t long before the crew was recounting the day’s adventure with increasing flair and volume.

“It’s so funny when they run,” Rex said, still wide-eyed. “Like—actually upright. Like little lizard nightmares sprinting at full speed.”

“You screamed,” Lexi said casually, sipping her tea.

“I yelped. Like a warrior.”

“You screamed and fell on your butt,” Saraya corrected. “Then blamed the ogopuu’s ‘freaky posture’ for your loss of dignity.”

“Which was valid!” he insisted. “That thing came at me like it had taxes to collect!”

Simon pointed a spoon at Lyra. “But you, you took down an emerald on your own. Smooth shot. I saw it.”

Lyra shrugged modestly, but Hassian—watching from where he leaned against the counter—caught the way her cheeks pinked. She glanced at him, and he gave her the smallest nod.

Pride swelled in his chest, even as something else twisted low in his gut.
Great, he thought. They love it. She's going to be spending a lot of time there.

The laughter rolled on, filling the house with a warmth that chased the Elderwood chill from their bones. Hassian didn’t say much—but Lyra noticed the way he kept refilling mugs, how he stayed nearby, how he didn’t leave the room until the last guest headed out with a full belly and a bruised ego from Rex’s increasingly dramatic re-enactments.

And later, when the house had gone quiet and Lyra turned to him with a smile, he only sighed, pulled her close, and murmured:

“Next time, I’m going with you.”

Safe

The house was quiet now. The others had gone, the dishes were washed, the doors locked.

The only light came from the chandelier in the Conservatory that Hassian had hand made of sernuk antlers. His contribution to their space.It casted a warm glow over the Majiri-tiled floor and coral linens.

Lyra lay curled against Hassian on their bed, her hair still damp from her shower, his arm around her waist. For a long time, they didn’t speak.

Then she shifted, just enough to look up at him.
“Thank you for making dinner,” she whispered, smiling.

He gave a soft grunt, brushing his fingers along her side. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was to me.”

She leaned in and kissed him — slow, warm, grateful.

He kissed her back. Longer this time.

And when she pulled the covers back and reached for him, he didn’t hesitate. He needed to be close — to feel that she was safe, here, his. After a day spent waiting and worrying, touch was the only thing that quieted his mind.
The worry of the day sharpened their hunger, and Hassian reminded her with every touch what waited at home—his arms, his fire, his steadiness that was hers alone.

They didn’t rush.
Clothes eased away, hands found familiar places, and in the soft quiet of the conservatory, they met each other again — skin to skin, breath to breath, no fear between them.

Later, when she curled into his chest and he pulled the blankets up over them both, Hassian pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered, “You’re here.”
Lyra nodded sleepily. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Outside, Killima slept.
Inside, in the quiet heart of the Conservatory, Hassian held his whole world close.
And for once, the man who always carried every burden let himself rest.