Valerie stared into the flas, her spoon pausing midair. "Lena... how long will you stay here?"
Lena turned, studying Valerie for a mont before answering. "As long as needed. A caravan isn’t bound to land we move when the wind changes."
Ethan frowned. "And if soone cos looking?"
Lena smiled faintly. "They always do. The only question is how far they’re willing to go."
The fire crackled. The night wind slipped through the camp, and Valerie pulled the scarf tighter around her shoulders. For a mont, the warmth and safety felt real almost fragile.
Valerie lowered her gaze, her voice soft. "I don’t want to bring danger to anyone."
Lena looked at her with a gaze that was gentle yet firm. "Danger doesn’t co because you’re here, child. It cos because soone refuses to let you choose."
The words lingered in the air.
Ethan tightened his grip on the bowl, then spoke quietly. "When that mont cos... what will we do?"
Lena looked into the fire, then toward the darkness beyond the ring of light. "We prepare."
Valerie exhaled slowly, finishing the last spoonful. Between the warmth of the food and the glow of the fire, she felt a subtle vibration in her chest not pain, not fear, but sothing like a distant call.
She lifted her head.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For the food... and for this place."
Lena nodded. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, the road may change."
In the distance, night fully settled. The camp remained warm and calm but beneath that peace, invisible threads were beginning to tighten, as if two worlds were slowly being drawn toward one another.
A small fire burned calmly in front of the tent, its light soft and gentle, never harsh. Night at the camp felt different its silence did not press down, but instead seed to cradle them. The cold air crept in slowly, mingling with the scent of earth and leaves, while thin steam rose from the cups of herbal drink in their hands.
Valerie sat leaning against a tent pole, a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Lena sat beside her, back straight, her face turned toward the fire as if reading the future in its dancing flas. Ethan sat a little apart, both hands wrapped around his warm cup, his gaze drifting now and then to Valerie before returning to the fire.
"I hope the place we’re going to next," Lena said at last, her voice soft but steady, "will be sowhere you can like. Comfortable. Peaceful enough for you to live there without always looking over your shoulder."
Valerie smiled faintly. She took a sip of her drink, the warmth spreading through her chest. "I would be very happy," she said gently, "if it’s a place where I... and my unborn child can live well."
The words fell quietly, but their weight was undeniable.
Ethan fell silent. His fingers tightened around the cup. Valerie turned to him, her gaze gentle not dismissive, but asking in a way that was honest and unforced.
"It would be better if you went back, Ethan," she continued softly. "You shouldn’t follow this far."
Ethan lifted his head. There was sothing in his eyes a concern he refused to na as fear. "I just want to make sure you’ll be all right there," he replied. "After that... I can return."
Lena smiled, a look full of understanding. She turned to Ethan, eting his eyes warmly. "You’re a good friend," she said. "And life rarely gives us people who are willing to protect and care, without asking for anything in return."
Ethan lowered his gaze slightly, as if the words were too heavy to et head-on. "I’m only doing what I should."
Valerie closed her eyes for a mont. The night wind brushed her cheek, the fire crackled softly. In the middle of that warmth, there was a fragile peace yet it was enough to let her breathe more easily tonight.
"Thank you," she whispered, to both of them.
They sat in silence after that. Not awkward. Not restless. Just three people sharing quiet, warm drinks, and a simple hope that tomorrow’s road would carry more calm than wounds.
But far beyond the circle of firelight, the night held its own secrets.
And none of them knew how long this peace would last.
The fire in front of the tent had dwindled to a small bed of embers when Lena finally stepped inside, the canvas falling closed again with a soft sound. The night felt wider after that quieter, more honest.
Valerie and Ethan still sat side by side. Not too close, not distant either. The night wind brushed past them lightly, carrying a chill that was gentle yet sharp.
Ethan broke the silence first. "You should go in and get so sleep," he said softly.
Valerie nodded without protest, but she didn’t rise right away. Her gaze remained fixed on the dimly glowing embers.
"Aren’t you going to sleep?" she asked gently.
Ethan shook his head. "Not yet. I... can’t."
Valerie drew a long breath. There was weariness in it not in her body, but in her thoughts.
"Neither can I," she said quietly. "I haven’t been able to sleep for days."
Ethan turned to her. His face held no prying curiosity, only sincere concern. After a brief hesitation, he asked, his voice extrely careful:
"Are you thinking about the duke?"
Valerie fell silent.
The question was simple. The answer was not.
In her chest, sothing stirred. A familiar face surfaced in her mind cold eyes hiding exhaustion, a voice rarely gentle yet always certain. Silent nights in Morvex, footsteps echoing through stone corridors, a presence that lingered even when she was ignored.
She missed him.
It would be a lie to say she didn’t.
The longing was there quiet, deep, and aching. Not for who Demian should have been, but for who she had once hoped he could beco.
But Valerie swallowed the feeling, pushing it back into the deepest place in her chest.
She shook her head slowly. "No," she said at last. Her voice was calm, almost convincing. "I’m not thinking about him."
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