Ryan had waited for Tru to lay out the bedroll before retreating to the opposite side of the fire. There were only two, and his upbringing had compelled him to yield them to the ladies. He had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted by the day’s ride, but he was jolted awake in the gray, chilly hours before dawn by a familiar warmth. Tru had managed to roll across the campsite and was now snuggled against his side, one arm draped possessively over his chest, sound asleep.

  He wriggled out from under her with the practiced caution of a man disarming a trap and moved toward the fire. Serenity was already there, staring into the embers and stirring them with a long stick.

  “Can’t sleep?” Ryan asked, sitting down nearby.

  “I don’t sleep much,” she replied without looking up.

  “How long has she been... over there?” He gestured back toward his discarded spot.

  “She fell asleep before you did, but she’s been migrating toward you ever since.”

  Ryan rubbed his face. “Is she always this clingy?”

  “I don’t know much about her, but from what I’ve seen? Yes. Especially with young men. I first noticed it when she followed me back to my village.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had been home for half a day when she strolled in,” Serenity began, a ghost of a scowl touching her lips. “She was smiling and flirting with every man in sight. My village isn’t like the one you call home, Ryan. There are no walls, no gates, no towers. Just a handful of buildings and a dozen tiny houses.”

  She paused, poking the fire with renewed vigor. “She was only there for a few days, but she wrecked a year’s worth of peace with her ‘elven ways.’ She’d get infatuated with a young man, and before long, she was sneaking into the woods or rolling around in a barn. It was infuriating. No less than three betrothals were called off because of her. I finally packed my bags and left just so she wouldn't ruin anyone else.”

  “That seems... a bit far-fetched,” Ryan said.

  “Well, it isn’t,” Serenity retorted defensively.

  Ryan simply stared at her, his head tilted in silent skepticism.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Alright,” she admitted, her shoulders slumping. “I may have exaggerated. A little.”

  “How much?”

  “The truth is, I don’t really know. My best friend, Mia, told me Tru had seduced her betrothed and she never wanted to see him again. Then she told me she saw Tru disappear into the woods with Jon—the man my mother intended for me to marry.”

  “Did you want to marry him?” Ryan asked.

  “He made my mother happy.”

  “But did he make you happy?”

  Serenity’s voice softened. “I don’t know. He was handsome enough, I suppose, but he talked too much. Mostly about himself and the grand plans he had for our future. I was always... bored.”

  “Have you asked her about it? Tru, I mean.”

  “No.”

  “So you’re holding a grudge based on village gossip?”

  “It isn’t just that,” she replied sharply. “She’s an elf. They are all the same. Like our father.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Our father came to my village years ago. He was smitten by a beautiful woman. A human woman. When he got what he wanted, he left. He didn’t even know he had left me behind.” Serenity’s voice cracked, and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She tried to stand, but Ryan caught her arm.

  “Stay,” he said gently. “I won’t judge you.”

  “My mother raised me alone,” Serenity whispered, the tears finally escaping. “She only ever had good things to say about him. She struggled every day to keep me fed, working until she was an old woman. When the bandits came... she couldn't run. She couldn't hide like the others.”

  She covered her face, her breath hitching in her chest. Ryan hesitated, then followed his instincts. He reached out and pulled her into a clumsy but firm embrace. He felt the tension leave her as she leaned her head against his shoulder, her quiet sobs dampening his tunic. They sat like that for a long time until her breathing evened out and she drifted into a light, exhausted sleep.

  He waited until he was certain she wouldn't wake before laying her down on the bedroll nearest the fire. He carefully positioned himself so that Serenity lay between Tru and his own spot, a human buffer against the night’s "migration."

  He woke to the sound of birdsong and Tru’s arm draped squarely across his face. Serenity was already gone.

  Ryan stoked the fire, adding fresh wood until the flames began to dance. A twig snapped nearby, and Serenity emerged from the trees carrying a basket woven from green vines. Inside, several silver-scaled fish were flopping.

  “Where did you get a basket?” Ryan asked.

  “I made it last night after you fell asleep. I found a stream while hunting, so I set a trap.”

  She used Ryan’s knife to clean the catch while he set up the spit. She skewered the fish, added a pinch of salt, and set them over the flames.

  “Sorry about last night,” she said, her voice low. “I tend to talk too much when I’m tired.”

  “It’s alright,” Ryan replied. “I got to see another side of you. To be honest, I thought you were just rude and vague. Now I understand a bit more.”

  The two were startled by a massive, groaning yawn. They turned to see Tru stretching, her arms high above her head. Her hair was a wild nest of leaves and twigs, and a distinct smear of drool marked her cheek. She wiped her face, smacking her lips.

  “I smell fish,” she croaked.

  Ryan and Serenity shared a look and burst into laughter.