Jiehong insisted they go outside the camp’s perimeter to ‘chill,’ as he put it.

Excitement flowed through Zan’s blood. Could it really be? He thought. Jiehong was going to share some of his holy herb with him?

Walking to a dense patch of forest near to the camp, the duo found a nice overturned log and sat down. Both checked for enemies and saw nothing.

Ever the gentleman, Jiehong placed a blanket over the log, so they did not have to sit on rain-soaked wood. Zan muttered a thanks and sat down.

Jiehong wore his civilian clothes, aside from the ever-worn and combat-ready attire whose strange silk-like appearance betrayed its tough-as-nails material. Those clothes were luxurious despite their combat quality.

Taking off his satchel, Jiehong rustled around in his pack.

“How much crap do you have in there, bud?” Zan asked, curious.

“Way too much… I really don’t need this much. Especially when half the time I am out in the field or checking in on my parents…” Jiehong replied.

Mentioning his parents and Zan’s guardians, Zan felt strange on the inside. Jie’s mother and father had left so suddenly. It was hard for Zan not to feel responsible for their leaving, even though they left, supposedly, to stay in some wealthy bunker.

Finding his little stash, Zan saw Jiehong pull from his satchel a handheld-sized clutch of leather. “This stuff,” Jiehong said, referring to the clutch of leather. “Keeps even the most smelly ingredients safe from prying noses.”

Jiehong winked. Zan winked back. Both smiled.

Jiehong was right, though. Zan did not smell any of the holy herb until he unwrapped the leather clutch. By which, the aroma hit them like a wall, like entering the baker’s shop and smelling the loaves of fresh bread.

“Daaaank!” Jiehong said, uttering a word Zan didn’t truly understand. Slang?

Zan looked at the herb. Sticky buds covered with frosted tips tinted a crystal blue sat in the clutch. It looked a bit like a pinecone if the pinecone was beautiful.

Over the next few minutes, Jiehong used a special ‘grinding’ mortar to render the chunky, thick buds into a fine filler.

“But we’re not done yet!” Jiehong said excitedly.

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He next took from his satchel’s side-pocket a small box of papers. “They’re called rolling papers,” Jiehong said. “We use them to roll up the dust.”

Zan watched intently. He had never seen this process before and was curious about everything and how to do everything.

Jiehong sprinkled the ground-up ‘dust,’ as he called it, into the rolling papers. Deftly defying muscle movements, Jiehong then licked part of the papers and curled one part of the paper around, forming what he said was a ‘cigarette.’

“One last part,” Jiehong said, quietly.

He grabbed from the same side-pocket as the rolling papers, a pack of matches.

Striking a match, Zan watched the flame rise, then fall, as Jiehong brought the light to two ‘roll ups,’ another of his words for ‘cigarette.’

“Here,” Jiehong told Zan. “Put this between your lips, like me. Breathe in with your lips. There you go, almost like you’re sucking. Now inhale, exhale. Yeah, you’re doing it!”

Zan followed Jiehong’s instructions and before he knew it…

What did he know?

Zan’s train of thought faded as the herb took effect. He became distracted. But mostly, Zan became mellow. Relaxed.

“Whoa,” Zan said, not even sure if he was audible.

“Ain’t it something?” Jiehong asked.

Already in outer-space, so strange Zan felt, he could barely reply to his friend.

Jiehong and Zan sat on that log spacing out for nearly two hours. They finished their treat, talked, but mostly enjoyed each other’s company. They didn’t worry about surprise attacks by golems or the war or the stresses of looking after the civilians. They were just as two soldiers on some shore leave. They were soaking in their relaxation time and let their minds wander.

Coming down from the herb’s effects near the end of their multi-hour stint, Zan suddenly asked, “Are they okay? Your parents?”

Jiehong smiled. Made a face. Then smiled again, like he was musing, emotionally, on his parents. He said, “Yeah, they’re fine, bud. You know how they get when they’re challenged on things. So moody, so elite. Eventually, they’re figure out where they went wrong.”

He didn’t know what Jiehong meant by ‘go wrong,’ but Zan assumed it had something to do with the big fight they had over Jiehong’s role in the newly emergent Shiv Ranger-Knight order. Theoretically speaking, it could be something else, however… Zan knew from personal experience, Jiehong’s parents, his guardians, could be obtuse people when they didn’t want to share their emotions.

Letting their words mellow, Zan did not pursue the topic. He did not want to ruin a nice evening by demanding answers no one was clearly ready to provide.

“We should get back to the camp,” Jiehong said. “We’ve been out here a while.”

Agreeing, they got up, placed everything back into Jiehong’s satchel — Jie making doubly sure the holy herb was well-wrapped up to prevent smelly smells from leaking — and headed back to camp.

“In the morning,” Zan suddenly said, “We should check-in on Thundervale. See if Colonel Winters is back.”

“Oh, why?” Jiehong asked, his tone already feeling a much more pleasant disposition.

“Strategic purposes? If we’re setting up this region’s defenses, Winters will have a big role to play, right? We can’t defend the region by ourselves. Until the Wardens fix the Backroads chamber, we have nothing else to do, so…” Zan explained.

“Yeah… good point. I guess that’s why you’re the leader,” Jiehong said plainly.

“I guess so,” Zan said.

The pair walked the rest of the way in silence. Zan did not think it was an awful silence. Not an awkward one, either. Just a chill silence. One where the boys enjoyed the moonlight and the infinite possibilities of the morning.