28 - Returning

The world was still when Luna opened her eyes.

Not silent—the forest never truly slept—but hushed, as though the trees and water alike were caught in the soft spell of dawn.

Birds stirred in the branches, calling faintly, their voices weaving into the gentle rush of the waterfall nearby. Mist hung low across the lake, curling like lazy smoke in the morning air.

Luna blinked at the scene and sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

Her gaze was pulled, inevitably, toward the waterfall. The way it glittered under the first light made it look alive, a curtain of silver spilling endlessly into the clear pool below. She felt as though it was calling to her, whispering her name in every drop.

Her stomach growled.

Luna pressed a hand against it, pouting. “Right. Priorities.”

She hadn’t eaten dinner last night, too tired after everything and slipping into sleep before Sarah and Darren had finished cooking. Her mouth felt dry, her belly empty.

She glanced at the still-slumbering shapes of her companions’ tents and wondered what she could scavenge for herself. Maybe she could roast something? Or—

Her eyes caught on something by the campfire.

A plate and a small bowl, both covered neatly with lids. On top of them sat a folded note, weighed down by a stone.

Curiosity sparked. Luna padded over, crouched, and tugged the note free.

The handwriting was neat, clearly Darren’s.

Luna, this is your share from last night. You looked so peaceful while sleeping, we didn’t want to wake you. – D & S

Her lips curled upward. For a moment, her chest warmed in a way that even candy couldn’t replicate.

“…Sweet,” she murmured.

She lifted the lids. The food was cold now, but it didn’t matter. The care it carried tasted better than heat ever could. She sat on a flat stone by the fire, legs swinging, and began eating.

The stew was thick, flavored with herbs Darren must have gathered. The bread was coarse but hearty. Luna hummed as she ate, savoring each bite, chewing slowly as if stretching out the moment.

When she was finished, she licked her spoon clean, set the dishes neatly aside, and tilted her head toward the lake again.

Her whole body itched to dive in, to let the water swallow her up and wash away the last threads of sleep. But one look at the tents made her hesitate.

She could picture it already—her gleeful splash echoing loud, Darren storming out sword in hand, Sarah’s hair sticking up wildly from sleep.

She snorted at the image and decided against it.

Instead, she sat cross-legged on her stone and lifted her hands.

Frost gathered at her fingertips, coiling into tiny shapes, dancing threads of magic she spun idly while she waited. A bird made of ice perched on her palm, wings quivering with faint light. She blew on it, and it shattered into sparkling dust.

The peaceful morning drifted on.

By the time Sarah and Darren stirred, Luna had already shaped half a dozen floating snowflakes to chase each other in slow spirals above her head.

The tents rustled. Darren emerged first, stretching, his hair a tousled mess. Sarah followed, rubbing at her eyes, yawning so wide it made Luna grin.

“Morning,” Luna called, cheerful.

Both of them stopped when they saw the little display above her head.

Sarah blinked, dazzled. “That’s… beautiful.”

Darren’s eyes lingered too, though his mouth quirked in a small, unreadable smile.

Luna closed her hands, and the snowflakes winked out. She hopped down from her stone and trotted toward them. “Morning!”

She beamed. “The food you saved me was delicious, by the way. Even cold.”

Sarah’s expression softened instantly, warmth flickering across her face. Darren’s, too—though his way was subtler, a slight easing of his usual sternness.

“We’re glad,” Sarah said. “We worried you’d go hungry.”

“I don’t go hungry,” Luna said smugly, patting the pouch at her side. The faint rustle of candy answered her words. “But still. It was good. Thanks.”

That simple gratitude brightened both older faces more than she expected.

They moved into their morning with easy rhythm. Sarah and Darren started preparing breakfast together, their movements flowing as though they had done it a hundred times before.

Sarah hummed while cutting vegetables. Darren focused on the pot with knightly seriousness, adding water and adjusting the fire.

Luna considered helping—she really did. But when she saw the two falling into their own quiet bubble, their shoulders brushing, their voices low and soft, she decided against it. She sprawled comfortably nearby, unwrapping a candy and watching.

It was like watching two people waltz without music.

She smiled, though a little wistfully.

When breakfast was ready, they ate together at the fire. The food was simple but hearty, the kind that carried comfort more than flavor. Conversation flowed easily, touches of laughter lightening the air.

Luna was mid-bite when Darren spoke. His voice was steady, but the weight beneath it made her pause.

“We’ll need to leave by noon.”

The words dropped into the air like stones into water.

Luna froze, spoon halfway to her mouth. “…Leave?”

Darren nodded. “This is our third day here. I must return home. With everything we’ve discovered, I need to report it to my father. Waiting longer would be irresponsible.”

Luna blinked, counted on her fingers. Day one—traveling, reaching the lake by night. Day two—fighting, looting, exploring the base. Today… day three.

Her shoulders slumped when the math betrayed her.

Sarah noticed first. She set her bowl aside, leaning closer. “Luna… don’t make that face.”

“It’s true, though,” Darren added quickly, perhaps too quickly. “But we still have time before noon. We could swim in the lake. Enjoy the morning.”

Sarah nodded, smiling gently. “Yes. We could dip into the water together. At least for a while.”

Luna’s frown eased—but only slightly. She shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly. “If I dive, I won’t want to leave. Time will fly. Then it’ll be later than you meant. Better not to.”

The older two exchanged a glance over her head.

Darren cleared his throat. “We could stay another day.”

Sarah, encouraged, added quickly, “I’d like that too. It’s been so long since I could bathe in a lake.”

Luna blinked at them both, then smiled. Sweet, she thought again. But she shook her head.

“No,” she said. “It’s fine. Really. I’m disappointed, sure, but my goal wasn’t to swim. My goal was to see you two get closer.”

She lifted a thumb, grinning. “Mission accomplished.”

Sarah laughed softly, almost embarrassed, and Darren’s face warmed despite himself.

“You really…” Darren started, then stopped, shaking his head. “It would be no trouble to stay.”

“It would,” Luna said, her smile softening. “You’d get in trouble if you’re late. I don’t want that. So—it’s fine.”

The conviction in her tone made Darren fall silent. Sarah, too, only sighed and nodded.

The morning passed quickly after that, gentler but tinged with a quiet undercurrent of goodbye. By noon, their bags were packed, and the camp by the lake stood empty once more.

Darren took the lead, guiding them along the path back toward the village. Luna followed, Sarah walking beside her.

And though the day was bright and clear, Luna found herself glancing back once at the waterfall, glittering in the distance, before the trees swallowed it from view.

The road wound like a ribbon of earth through the trees, narrow but well-trodden. The canopy overhead broke apart often enough to let the sun through in patches, dappling their path in shifting gold.

Darren walked ahead, his stride steady, his sword strapped securely at his side.

He seemed to move with purpose, shoulders squared, eyes flicking often to the undergrowth. It wasn’t vigilance born of fear but of habit, the way a knight couldn’t turn off the sense of responsibility even in daylight.

Luna padded along behind him, a piece of candy tucked in her cheek. Sarah was at her side, close enough that their sleeves brushed now and then.

Luna’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Hey.”

Sarah turned her head. “What is it?”

“Why aren’t you walking up there?” Luna pointed with her candy stick toward Darren’s back. “Isn’t that where you usually are? Beside him, holding hands?”

Sarah’s face colored. “Luna.”

“I’m just saying.” Luna smirked. “You two are like magnets. Now suddenly you’re here with me instead of him? Suspicious.”

Sarah pursed her lips, torn between embarrassment and a laugh. “It’s not suspicious. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Mmhm.” Luna sucked her candy thoughtfully. “Talk, huh? What about?”

Sarah hesitated. Darren was only a few paces ahead, his ears no doubt sharp, but he kept his gaze fixed on the trail as though deliberately giving them space. Sarah noticed, swallowed, and finally spoke.

“I… needed advice.”

Luna arched a brow. “Advice? From me?”

“I know how it sounds,” Sarah said quickly, almost pleading. “But you’ve helped Darren. You’ve helped me too, more than once. And you see things we don’t—things about people. You’re… sharp.”

Luna tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. “Go on.”

Sarah’s eyes softened as they drifted toward Darren’s back. “I love him.” The words were quiet, almost trembling, as though admitting them aloud carried weight. “Not just like or admire. I love him. I’ve loved him for years.”

Luna’s chewing slowed.

“But…” Sarah’s voice faltered. “He’s a noble. He has duties, responsibilities, a future planned out that doesn’t leave much room for someone like me. I’m a commoner. I don’t want to hold him back. What if being with me costs him something important? What if—what if I ruin his chances to achieve what he’s meant for?”

She clenched her hands at her sides. “I want to support him. I want to stand by him. But I can’t see how. The gap between us feels too wide.”

Luna walked in silence for a stretch, letting the forest sounds fill the space. She studied Sarah’s expression—the honesty there, the worry creasing her brow, the depth of her feelings. It wasn’t puppy love. It was something far deeper, rooted in years of knowing him.

Finally, Luna asked, “When did it start? You say you love him, but when did it become this deep?”

Sarah blinked, caught off guard.

Luna narrowed her eyes, sharp now. “The knight academy. You went there when you were eighteen. Was it because of him?”

The flush that rose to Sarah’s cheeks was answer enough. She nodded, hesitant but firm.

Luna’s eyes widened. “So you joined just to chase after him?”

“Not just,” Sarah whispered. “I wanted to grow stronger too. But yes. Mostly, it was him.”

Luna’s mind whirred. She thought back to Sarah’s earlier story in the inn, about her years in the academy. About leaving after only two.

She stopped walking. “And leaving… You didn’t leave because you were satisfied at level two, did you?”

Sarah froze.

Luna pressed, voice soft but piercing. “You left because you were falling deeper for him, didn’t you? Because staying would’ve meant… you couldn’t stop.”

Sarah’s face turned crimson. She lowered her head, hands twisting in her skirt, but she nodded. Once. Twice.

Luna gaped for a moment, then let out a low whistle. “Wow. You really are gone for him.”

Sarah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Luna, please.”

But Luna only grinned, sharp and mischievous. “That’s deep, Sarah. That’s… hopelessly in love. So much that you changed your life for him. Twice.”

Sarah peeked between her fingers, embarrassed beyond words.

Luna leaned closer, her grin curling into something sly. “Don’t worry. Leave it to me. I’ll handle everything.”

Sarah blinked, startled. “What? Handle what?”

“Your problem,” Luna said smugly, waving a hand. “Making sure you two end up together. Simple.”

Sarah’s mouth opened, then closed again. “But… how? What could you possibly—”

“Secret,” Luna cut in, her grin widening. “You’ll see.”

Sarah stared at her, torn between exasperation and trust. In the end, she exhaled slowly, shoulders easing. Luna had helped before—helped more than once. Maybe… maybe she could believe in her again.

The road stretched on, and the conversation drifted into lighter things. But Sarah’s steps felt a little less heavy after that.

Night had fallen by the time the village came into view. Lanterns flickered to life along the streets, casting warm pools of light across cobblestones. Smoke curled from chimneys, carrying the smell of cooked meats and bread.

The inn was bright and bustling when they entered. To their surprise, two knights stood behind the counter—except they wore aprons instead of armor, ladling stew and wiping mugs with all the gravity of men guarding a fortress.

Luna burst into laughter at the sight. Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth, trying and failing to stifle her own giggle. Even Darren allowed himself a small shake of the head, lips twitching faintly.

The weariness of the road melted in that moment.

Inside, the air was warm, filled with chatter, the clink of bowls, the smell of broth. The three found their way to the counter. Sarah slipped behind it with practiced ease, greeting the knights with quick words before fetching bowls.

Luna and Darren sat side by side at the counter. It was strangely familiar—almost a mirror of the day Sarah had told her story.

When Sarah returned, she carried three steaming bowls of stew. She set one before Darren, one before Luna, then poured her own… and sat down beside Darren.

The inn quieted. People glanced, whispers rising, eyes widening at the boldness of it.

Luna caught the flicker of nerves in Sarah’s posture, the way her shoulders tensed. But she also saw the decision in her eyes—the choice to be honest, to stop hiding.

Darren blinked at her, surprise flickering across his face. Then, slowly, he smiled. Small, but genuine.

The warmth that radiated from them filled the room more surely than the fire.

Luna sat on Darren’s other side, watching them. The two didn’t speak much as they ate, but they didn’t need to. Their silence was heavy with meaning, every glance and brush of hands more telling than words.

Luna chewed her stew, grimacing faintly. Third wheel again. Definitely.

But this time, instead of sulking, she let herself smile. Because this was what she wanted. What she’d pushed for.

Still, as she finished her meal, her thoughts turned sly again.

In her room later, lying on her bed with the muffled laughter of the inn below drifting through the floorboards, Luna folded her hands behind her head and grinned at the ceiling.

Plans.

She’d make them. Plans to push the two together, plans to smooth the path, plans to make sure Sarah’s love didn’t drown in doubt.

If Sarah couldn’t see the future clearly, Luna would shape it for her.

After all, meddling was what cats did best.