The following week…. Lyra tugged the last strap on her travel pack, cinching it tight. The soft orange glow of morning spilled across Killima, painting the village in golden hues. She adjusted her bow across her back and glanced toward the hill where the hunter’s shack stood, half-shadowed against the plains.
Time to check in.
Tau barked before she even reached the door. A moment later, Hassian opened it with a nod. His hair was still damp from a creek rinse, and that familiar scent of leather, smoke, and wild things clung to him. Lyra allowed herself one fleeting thought of him in that creek—water sliding over lean muscle, sunlight catching in his hair—and quickly shoved it aside before her cheeks betrayed her.
“We’re heading into Bahari,” she said without preamble. “Two nights this time. Midlands only—mostly looking for bluebristles and maybe some azure tracks.”
His brow lifted slightly. “We?”
“Me, Rex, Saraya, Simon. Lexi’s sitting this one out. Twisted her ankle on the cliffs last week.”
He grunted, but when she added, “I was thinking about checking the Thickets. There’ve been a few sightings near the river and—”
“No!”
The word came sudden, sharp. His shoulders had gone taut, like a bow drawn too tight. Lyra blinked. “No?”
“Don’t go near the Thickets.” His tone was final. No explanation, no room for argument.
“Too dangerous?”
He gave a single, curt nod. “Stay clear of that area, Lyra.”
She studied him a moment longer. It wasn’t just beasts or terrain—something else shadowed his face. But she didn’t push, not now. “Alright,” she said softly. “Midlands only. I’ll let you know when we’re back.”
“Good.” His voice eased, just a little. Then his gaze caught hers, steady, quiet. “You do know Tau waits for you every day?”
She tilted her head. “Tau waits?”
He didn’t look away. His mouth twitched before he added, “So do I.”

The Trees Have Eyes

Bahari Bay was wild in ways Killima never could be. Ancient trees groaned in the wind like old bones. The air tasted of salt and loam.
On their second night, their fire was a small, fragile heartbeat in the vast silence. Lyra lay in her bedroll long after the others slept, an itch prickling at the back of her senses—eyes on her, unseen, unblinking. Come morning, she found proof.
A single boot print at the river’s edge. Large. Deep. Fresh. And beside it: plumehound tracks. The stride, the spacing—someone had been standing there, close enough to watch their fire through the dark.
Lyra crouched low, tracing the outline with her fingertips. The chill of the soil still clung to it. Not hours old—whoever it was had stood there while they slept. Her gut twisted. Every instinct screamed to move, yet another part of her wanted to shout into the trees, demand the watcher step forward. But the silence pressed in, heavy and endless.
She rose, jaw tight. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Back in Killima, Lyra went straight to the guild shack. Hassian was oiling the string of a longbow, but he looked up the moment she entered. “You’re back early,” he said, mild as ever.
She nodded, then added, “I found tracks this morning. Big boot print. And a plumehound.”
His hands stilled.
“Any idea who in Bahari might’ve taken an interest in us?” she pressed.
He shrugged, eyes lowering back to his bow. “Could be anyone. Lots of hunters come through Bahari.”
“This wasn’t random.” Her voice softened, but she didn’t let it go. “They watched us, Hassian. Through the night.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said at last. “You’re back safe.”
She lingered, waiting for more. When none came, disappointment tugged at her chest. She nodded once. “Alright. If you hear anything, let me know please.”
She was halfway out the door when his voice stopped her. “Lyra.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
He met her eyes, quiet, unreadable. “You’re smart. I should’ve known you’d figure it out.”
Her lips parted, surprise surging, but he looked down again, bowstring taut in his hands as if nothing had passed between them. She managed a soft “Okay,” before she walked out, her heart beating a little faster than before.

Hassian

Hassian sat alone by the fire in his Grove, Tau curled at his feet. “You’re a better tracker than that,” he muttered to himself, bitter. Tau huffed.
“She figured it out. Knew I was there.” He tossed a twig into the flames. “What, did I think she wouldn’t notice? Or did I think she wasn’t sharp enough?”
The words stung. He told himself it was just duty, just concern for another hunter—but that lie had thinned long ago. He sighed, leaning back on his hands. “It’s too far now, Tau. I can’t keep pretending.” The dog’s ears twitched.
“She’s not just bringing food because she makes too much.” He stared into the fire. “And I’m not taking sandwiches to someone I don’t care about.”
That sandwich… it wasn’t food. It was her. He imagined how she’d licked the mustard from her thumb, the soft laugh that always followed when something pleased her. Every choice had been made with her in mind. The thought alone damn near undid him.
And then there was Reth.
Hassian’s jaw clenched. He’d heard the man boasting to his buddies when Lyra wasn’t around. “She’s just soft enough to tame a man like me,” Reth had laughed. “All those recipes—she thinks I’m teaching her to cook. Nah, man. I’m teaching her how to let me keep her plate warm.” Tau growled low. Hassian’s hands curled into fists.
He could see it too clearly—Reth leaning over her shoulder at the stove, grinning, while Lyra, too kind to push him away, tried to smile through it. The thought made Hassian’s teeth ache. “I won’t let that happen,” he said, voice low, certain. “If she ends up with someone…it’s not going to be him.”
But if that was true, then he couldn’t keep hiding in the trees. He couldn’t keep handing her “maybe I do, maybe I don’t” lines. He had to man up and put the truth out there. She deserved that.
And yet, the fire gave no answers. Only his own doubts reflected back. He didn’t understand her kind—didn’t know what drove them, what they wanted from the world, or from men like him. What he didn’t understand, he couldn’t trust.
His past had already taught him what came of lowering his guard too soon, of mistaking want for something steady. He’d spent years rebuilding what was broken, and still wasn’t sure if the pieces would hold.
And Lyra… she was more than he had any right to reach for. Beautiful. Quick-witted. Charming in ways he couldn’t match. She deserved better than a man still questioning if he was enough.
But if he waited too long, she’d be gone—drawn in by someone who didn’t hesitate, someone who wasn’t too proud or too scarred to step forward. Reth was circling already.
Tau nudged against his hand, a quiet reminder—he wasn’t alone, and he was still someone worth caring for.
Hassian exhaled slowly, leaning closer to the fire. His mind roamed over her—her warmth, her scent, the way she might press against him, soft but insistent, urgent in its own gentle rhythm. He imagined the brush of her hair against his chest, the press of her lips on his neck, the curve of her body arching slightly into his own. A shiver ran down his spine. He closed his eyes and let himself linger there, letting instinct take over, pulling him deeper into thoughts of her. His pulse sped, his chest tightened, savoring the ache and longing.

Every imagined touch, every imagined sigh, every imagined heartbeat of hers pressed against his own left him raw and achingly aware of the distance between them. Desire licked at him, sharp and insistent, yet he stayed rooted, grounding himself in Tau’s quiet presence and the steady flicker of the flames.
For the first time in a long while, something fragile and unfamiliar curled inside his chest. Hope—thin as smoke, fragile as firelight—but rising all the same.

Lyra

Lyra had taken to sleeping outside most nights lately, even though she had a perfectly good bed inside. A soft blanket spread across the cool grass, the night air brushing her skin, and the stars overhead made her feel both infinite and small at once.
Tonight, her thoughts kept returning to him. To Hassian. To the way he’d said it, the calm weight behind his words: “You’re smart. I should’ve known you’d figure it out.” A flutter rose in her chest at the memory, and for a moment she wondered what it truly meant that he had been watching them in Bahari. Was it just duty that brought him out there? Concern for a bunch of reckless, new hunters? Or could it have been something more—me? Her pulse quickened at the thought, and she let herself linger on it.
She closed her eyes. Her thoughts wandered, her hands sliding along the curves of his shoulders, the warmth of his skin, the weight of him pressed against her. She imagined his hands tracing hers, the brush of his breath against her neck, the quiet pull of his body fitting against hers. His eyes, intense and focused, and the strength of his body pressed close in her mind. His voice, calm and steady, calling her name. A shiver ran down her spine, and she let instinct take over, pulling her deeper into thoughts of him. Her breath caught, as she let herself go, arching her back slightly off the grass and letting the ache build, rushing through her in a deep, private wave that left her panting and trembling, utterly spent beneath the night sky.
Slowly, she drew a shaky breath, letting Sifuu’s words remind her, "he's not easy," she'd warned. Lyra exhaled, a slow smile tugging at her lips. She would wait. She would keep trying. She would find a way, even if it meant patience, strategy, and careful steps.
Eventually, the night claimed her, her limbs heavy and her mind calm despite the sparks of longing still flickering beneath her skin. She fell asleep beneath the stars, imagining him out there somewhere under the same vast sky, and allowed herself a quiet hope that he might be thinking of her too.