The uniformed man bent down. He made a few small preparations for the road. He picked up his sword from the ground, examined it carefully, then slid it back into its sheath. The short click of metal settling into place sounded louder than it should have in the quiet of the morning.

  His movements were calm. Measured. Familiar.

  There was no trace of the night on his face.

  ?lyara rose to her feet. Her clothes were dusty and wrinkled. The smell of smoke clung to the fabric. The crash, the forest, the blood, the fire… it all felt as if it had settled into her skin, like an invisible weight resting on her shoulders.

  She tried to anchor her mind to a single thought: the farm.

  She glanced once more at the extinguished fire. A faint warmth still lingered beneath the ashes, but it no longer felt like shelter.

  The uniformed man had already begun walking. He did not look back or call out; he simply moved forward.

  ?lyara followed a few steps behind him.

  The chill of morning seeped into her bones. The fear from the night before remained in her body like a dull ache. She remembered the firm pressure on her shoulder. Then his eyes.

  Had he truly… been afraid?

  As she walked, her thoughts tangled together. She tried to arrange the events of yesterday in order, but the pieces refused to fit. The blood. That hollow feeling. The nightmare. The uniformed man kneeling on the ground.

  And his eyes.

  She shook her head slightly. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe her mind was distorting what she had seen.

  But the unease inside her would not quiet.

  After a while, the sound of water reached them through the trees. A thin but steady current. The uniformed man changed direction.

  ?lyara followed without asking.

  The river stretched in the pale morning light like a strip of dull silver. Its surface was calm; small ripples broke gently against the shore. The trees leaned toward it, dropping their shadows into the water.

  The uniformed man knelt. He filled his flask. Then he drew his sword and held it beneath the surface. The last traces of blood dissolved into the current, darkening it for a brief moment. The metal trembled with a cold gleam beneath the water.

  He did not hurry.

  ?lyara stood a few steps away, watching him. Then she approached the river and crouched.

  She dipped her hands into the water. The cold stung her skin, but she welcomed it. She splashed it over her face. Dirt and sweat ran off. She took a deep breath.

  She lifted her head and looked at her reflection.

  The face staring back at her was familiar, yet worn. Pale. Shadows pooled beneath her eyes. Her hair was tangled.

  She tilted her head slightly to check the wound on her scalp. When her fingers brushed the forming scab, she clenched her teeth.

  Then she noticed something.

  There was a thin ring around her pupil.

  Red.

  Like an ember burning in the dark.

  For the briefest second, it flickered—like a thin line of light beneath the surface of the water. Then the current shifted, and the image broke apart.

  ?lyara froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

  She plunged her hand into the water again, leaning closer.

  But her eyes looked as they always did. Dark. Still.

  No ring. No glow.

  She swallowed.

  Maybe it was exhaustion.

  That explanation was easier.

  Yet the unease inside her did not move.

  When she stood, the uniformed man had already fastened the flask back onto his belt and dried his sword.

  Their gazes met for a moment.

  He looked away.

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  The fact that he looked away tied a new knot in ?lyara’s mind.

  They began walking again.

  This time, the distance between them was slightly smaller.

  They picked a few wild berries from the branches and ate them as they walked. As the sun climbed higher, the forest came alive; birds grew louder, leaves caught the light and shimmered. But the silence between them remained heavy.

  ?lyara drew breath to speak more than once, then stopped herself. The questions kept circling in her mind. Last night… that moment…

  His eyes.

  At last she could not hold it back.

  “Are you alright?”

  Her voice came out softer than she expected.

  The uniformed man did not slow. He only turned his head slightly.

  “I’m fine.”

  One word. Flat. Measured.

  ?lyara pressed her lips together.

  “Last night…” she said. “What happened?”

  He took a few more steps. His shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Then why were you beside me when I woke up?”

  This time he stopped. Slowly, he turned halfway toward her. His eyes were blank, yet attentive.

  “You were screaming.”

  Something tightened inside ?lyara.

  “I was?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned back and resumed walking.

  She did not fall behind. She quickened her pace.

  “What were you afraid of?”

  The uniformed man stopped again, more abruptly. His shoulders went rigid. He shook his head once, short and sharp, as if trying to scatter something forming in his thoughts.

  ?lyara nearly ran into him. She hadn’t realized how close she was.

  “What was it?” she asked more quietly. “I saw it in your eyes.”

  He turned slowly. His hand moved, almost without thought, to the hilt of his sword. He didn’t draw it. His fingers only tightened there.

  “Do you truly not know?”

  His voice wasn’t threatening.

  But there was a hard warning beneath it.

  Confusion flickered across ?lyara’s face. What was she supposed to know? In her mind there were only black eyes, emptiness, and her own scream. She didn’t even want to think about that dream.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said honestly.

  He held her gaze for a few seconds longer, then looked away.

  “How long are you going to keep following me?”

  There was no sharp edge in his tone—more a tired impatience.

  ?lyara paused.

  “I’m not following you. I don’t know the way.”

  He said nothing.

  “I’m looking for a horse farm near here. I crashed the night before last. My phone doesn’t get a signal out here.” She pulled the device from her pocket and held it up briefly.

  The uniformed man looked at her, then at the object in her hand. His expression did not change.

  “I don’t know of any farm,” he said. “But I’ll be passing through a town.”

  He turned and began walking again.

  ?lyara hesitated for a few seconds.

  Then she quickened her steps. This time she walked closer on purpose.

  The forest closed around them once more.

  And they continued in the same direction.

  ---

  They set out as the first light of morning settled over the forest like a thin veil of mist. Walking at sunrise and making camp as dusk fell became a quiet routine. The same fire, the same path, the same sky… Days blurred into one another.

  ?lyara was no longer as tense beside the uniformed man as she had been in the beginning. She watched him instead. The way he walked. The constant readiness in his shoulders. The subtle tilt of his head, as if measuring the direction of the wind. What had first felt sharp and unsettling slowly became a familiar rhythm.

  He was almost never idle. He tracked, hunted, or surveyed their surroundings. His hands were always occupied. Sometimes he would stop without warning and stare into the distance. In those moments his face grew even more expressionless; he looked as if he were somewhere far beyond this forest.

  Words were scarce along the road. ?lyara tried to speak, to ask questions, to pry open the silence. The answers were short. Measured. Sometimes they did not come at all. The uniformed man preferred walking to talking.

  ?lyara’s wounds had nearly healed. The ache in her body had faded, but the uncertainty inside her remained untouched. She had accepted that she would not be returning to the farm. She didn’t know when she had lost her way. She only knew they were not going back.

  Despite walking together for days, they still hadn’t asked each other’s names. A few times, ?lyara had almost done it—then stopped herself.

  Giving her name meant crossing a boundary.

  She did not fully trust him.

  But she could not deny a sense of gratitude.

  She would not have lasted this long alone in the forest. He had found the water. He had caught the game. He had set their direction. Perhaps he had done all of it for his own survival, but he had not left her behind. He had not spoken harshly to her or crossed any line.

  His distance was sharp, but it was fair.

  ?lyara had begun to see that.

  She thought she might finally say her name. She wanted to know his, too.

  Lost in that thought, she failed to notice when he stopped abruptly and walked straight into his back.

  “Ah… sorry.”

  She realized she didn’t even know how to address him.

  He paid no mind. He knelt and examined a fresh footprint pressed into the soil. His fingers traced the edges of the mark, weighing the dampness of the earth.

  ?lyara took a slow breath.

  “What’s your name?”

  Her voice was low enough to dissolve into the wind.

  He paused for a fraction of a second.

  Then, without answering, he moved forward, following the track.

  ?lyara quickened her steps to catch up.

  “I should tell you mine first,” she said hurriedly. “My name is ?lyara. What’s yours?”

  His focus remained fixed on the ground ahead.

  At that moment, a wild rabbit darted out from the bushes. The uniformed man did not kneel. He drew his knife slowly, adjusted his wrist, and took aim.

  But ?lyara was elsewhere entirely.

  A name had begun turning in her mind.

  She slowed for a moment. Then the corner of her lips lifted slightly.

  “If you’re not going to tell me,” she said softly, “I’ll call you Ar?n.”

  For a brief second, there was silence.

  “Ar?n.”

  The word lingered in the air.

  At that exact moment, the sound of metal shifted. The line he had been aiming along faltered for a fraction of a second.

  The knife struck the trunk of a tree instead.

  Bark split. The blade quivered before going still.

  The rabbit bolted, vanishing into the undergrowth.

  The smile faded from ?lyara’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I ruined our meal.”

  He remained where he was, his hand still suspended in the air. There was a tremor in his fingers—so slight it was almost invisible.

  Slowly, he turned.

  His eyes found hers.

  In that pale, muted gaze, something moved—something she had never seen there before. Small. Brief. But not hidden.

  ?lyara cleared her throat and looked away.

  “I distracted you.”

  He said nothing. He pulled the knife free from the tree. The metal made a dry sound as it tore away from the bark.

  Then he turned and began walking.

  ?lyara hesitated for a moment.

  Then she quickened her steps.

  She came up beside him.

  For the briefest instant, he slowed.

  So slightly it might have been imagined.

  As if the rhythm of his stride had shifted.

  Then it steadied again.

  But that small disruption was louder than the silence of the forest.