The fire popped softly as they ate, lighting Fen's form. He was mid-gesture, reenacting something with theatrical commitment.
“So I say, ‘Sure, I can hold the bridge,’ because that’s what you do when you have a shield, right?”
“You held a bridge?” Miri asked.
“That’s what shields are for.”
“I don’t know enough about shields or bridges to argue with that.”
“Exactly.” He pointed at her with the spoon. “And I’m doing great. Absolutely great. Two goblins off the edge, one in the river. I’m feeling heroic.”
“What changed?” Tamsin asked evenly.
Fen scratched the back of his neck. “I kicked one toward my teammate. He wasn’t paying attention. Bit his ear clean off.”
Tony made a low, amused chuff.
“So they just left you behind?” Miri asked.
“Temporarily displaced,” Fen corrected. “Via rune. Into a swamp.”
He said it like it was an unfortunate drizzle.
Miri studied him while he poked at the fire. He didn’t seem bitter about it, just stating facts. That was either impressive resilience or alarming denial.
Tamsin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You did not notice the rune forming?”
Fen shrugged. “I was busy holding a bridge.”
Miri winced. That felt too familiar. Tunnel vision. The moment narrowing until nothing existed but the task in front of you. She’d done that last week and nearly died for it.
“Okay,” she said softly. “That’s rough.”
“Eh.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Lesson learned. If someone says ‘trust me’ while drawing a circle on the ground, step out of the circle.”
Miri laughed and was surprised at how easily bubbled out.
Tamsin watched him for a long moment. “You stayed upright longer than most,” she said. “Against the bog horror. Three direct strikes.”
“Stone Skin,” Fen replied automatically. “First layer buys time. After that it’s just stubbornness.”
“And Tremor Pulse,” Miri added. “That ground thing you did?”
His eyebrows lifted. “You noticed?”
“It rattled my teeth.”
He grinned. “Good. It’s supposed to.”
Tony shifted closer, sniffed him once, then settled. Fen brightened. “He likes me.”
“He tolerates you,” Miri corrected.
“Same thing.”
She found herself smiling despite herself. Across the fire, Tamsin said nothing. She was watching. Evaluating.
Miri felt it too — that quiet measuring. Fen wasn’t slick, wasn’t selling himself. He was just completely open. It was disarming.
“You two fight clean,” Fen said after a moment. “Shield timing. Arrow follow-through. You’ve done this together more than once.”
Miri glanced at Tamsin. “We almost died last week,” she said. “Well, I almost died.”
Fen’s expression didn’t shift into pity or alarm. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said simply.
Miri nudged a stick into the fire. “We’re good one-on-one,” she said slowly. “But if things stack wrong…”
“They stack wrong,” Fen finished.
She nodded and Fen leaned forward, thinking out loud rather than pitching. “I’m not fast,” he admitted. “If something slips past me, I can’t chase it down. But if it wants to stay in front of me?” He tapped his shield. “That I can do all day.”
Tamsin tilted her head slightly. “You hold the center.”
“Yeah.”
Miri felt the idea settle. If he held the center…
She wouldn’t have to choose between shielding and striking.
She wouldn’t have to burn Veil early out of panic.
She wouldn’t have to hear that internal spiral while two blades closed in.
“If he holds center,” she said carefully, “I don’t get dogpiled.”
Tamsin nodded once.
“And if you don’t get dogpiled,” Fen added, “you get to do that weird side-jump thing instead of eating dirt.”
Miri blinked. “It’s called Sidestep.”
“It’s good,” he said seriously. “Clean.” There was no awkwardness or posturing in his comment, just recognition.
She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone to notice that.
Tony thumped his tail once. Fen glanced at him. “He flanks well.”
“He hates mud,” Miri said.
“I also hate mud,” Fen replied immediately.
She laughed again — real and unguarded. Tamsin’s gaze shifted between them.
“You are level nine,” she said at last.
Fen nodded. “Trying for ten.”
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“With a stable party.” That word hung there. Stable.
He hesitated — just slightly. “…Yeah.”
There it was. Lacking eagerness and desperation, he sounded honest. And tired.
Miri looked at the fire. She thought about the bridge story. About being teleported away, about holding the center while other people moved around you. About nearly dying because she hadn’t had someone to hold the center for her.
She wasn’t ready to say anything permanent, but she wasn’t ready to send him off alone either.
“Safety in numbers,” she said lightly. “At least until one of us teleports someone into a swamp.”
Fen held up both hands solemnly. “I swear I will not rune any of you into wetlands.”
“That’s comforting,” she said.
Tamsin regarded him another moment. “You take first watch.”
Fen’s grin came easy. “Deal.”
Miri watched him move to settle near the edge of camp. He checked the perimeter twice before sitting. Not careless or sloppy.
Her shoulders loosened without her meaning them to.
Maybe.
Not a party. Not yet.
But maybe.
* * *
The fire had burned low by the time Miri rolled onto her side.
Tamsin was already asleep — one hand near her blade even in rest. Fen sat on first watch, silhouette cut against the dim orange glow, shield propped beside him.
Tony circled once before collapsing heavily against Miri’s legs. He didn’t ask permission. He simply arrived. The warmth was immediate. Solid. Anchoring.
Miri slid her fingers under his chin and scratched lightly. He rumbled, deep and pleased, and pressed closer until her calf was effectively pinned beneath a striped wall of muscle.
“Subtle,” she murmured.
He blinked slowly.
She stared up at the canopy overhead — the black lattice of branches, the faint smear of stars between them.
Killed a man.
She exhaled.
Still here. Still breathing. Still choosing.
“…Okay,” she whispered.
The System responded instantly.
[ Congratulations. You have reached Level 6. ]
The familiar text unfolded in her vision — softer now, less shocking than it once had been.
She assigned the points deliberately this time. No rushing. No excitement. No chasing a number.
She nudged Vitality up.
Agility and Endurance.
Focus.
Perception, too.
Willpower.
Then the locked surge of magical growth settled into Mana Control like a second heartbeat aligning with the first.
The numbers ticked upward. Steadier. Cleaner. She didn’t feel stronger in any dramatic way. Maybe just tighter, more aligned. Like screws turned a quarter rotation at a time.
Tony’s ear flicked against her wrist.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “We’ll do better next time.”
She flicked to Inventory and the list unrolled. Two weeks on the road had added more than she’d consciously tracked.
Bogscale hide (x4)
Glowcap spores (sealed)
Marsh beetle carapace fragments
River liscamp fangs
Swamp resin sacs (volatile)
Miri swallowed as she found the items looted from the bandits.
She hadn’t really considered the fact that people would be looted the same as monsters. She checked her credits and blinked — the amount far higher than expected. The multiple empty coin pouches in her inventory explained it.
Coin pouch (x3)
Cracked leather armor pieces
Curved sabres (mixed quality)
Hook blades (x2)
Reinforced chain (heavy gauge)
Throwing knives (x7)
As she scrolled around her inventory, she decided she’d sell the weapons for scrap.
And then paused when she noticed the charms.
Cheap Paralysis Talisman
Inside Out Charm (explosive)
Minor Stamina Draught (illicit)
Panic Sigil
Sleep Dust Vial
Undisguise Unguent
Virility & Power Potion
Miri frowned. She didn’t have a lot of knowledge on charms, but she knew enough to understand what she was looking at.
“Gross,” she muttered. Tony huffed softly.
The Inside Out Charm lingered at the edge of her thoughts.
Explosive.
She felt her jaw tighten. Sometimes people choose to be monsters.
She would keep the Sleep Dust Vial. The rest she’d sell the moment they reached town. Let Corven deal with it.
She still had most of her supplies from the start of their journey. Plenty of rations, water, and healing options. The System listed some miscellaneous items she hadn’t seen before.
Flight Guide
Metal Repair Kit (medium)
The Flight Guide looked like it was probably a map. The repair kit…
Miri looked across the fire at Fen, his shield resting at his side.
She whispered, “Hey.”
When he looked at her, she flicked the repair kit from her inventory and tossed it lightly.
He caught it midair. Blinked.
“Thought you might want that,” she said, looking back down at her mental list.
He unwrapped it, eyebrows lifting.
“Auto-loot has excellent taste,” she replied absently.
There was a pause and then softly, “Thanks.”
She met his gaze. “You’re welcome.”
As Fen began to unpack the kit, Miri continued browsing. She had some very interesting items and even more junk. A bow string she’d give to Tamsin, the tiniest nib of chalk she’d ever seen…
Resinated Bow String
Rune Chalk (0.15oz)
[Sealed] Ancient Skill Book
Her breath hitched slightly at that last one.
Still there. Still quiet. Still waiting.
She didn’t open it. Just acknowledged it like you would something dangerous and powerful sitting at the bottom of a locked drawer.
Not yet.
She closed the interface.
The forest sounds returned in full — insects, distant frogs, the low wind through reeds.
Tony shifted and rested his head across her thigh. She resumed scratching under his jaw and his rumble deepened.
Across the fire, Fen shifted slightly, adjusting his stance.
They weren’t a party yet, but they weren’t alone either.
Miri stared up at the stars through the canopy.
She had killed a man. She would kill again.
Both were true. Both would stay true.
Her hand stilled in Tony’s fur.
Tomorrow, they would see what they could become with one more piece added to the board.
For now, she slept.
