The firepit illuminated the clearing, casting a glow on Mara's radiant face. Elena's eyes, violet pools in the firelight, watched her. The sweet night air was their only company, laced with the scent of charred tenderwillow.

"The maniac, I still can’t believe it" Mara's laugh broke the silence. Her voice, soft as dusk, echoed through the woodland clearing.

"The madman who thought tenderwillow could be a torch?" Elena replied, grinning wickedly. Her voice, a silken whisper on the cool breeze.

Nods from Mara, a glint in her soft brown eyes. "Imagine!" she giggled. "Tenderwillow, of all things!"

Guffaws filled the clearing. The maniac had been an annoyance, but now he was a tale of amusing folly. Firelight flickered off their laughter like sparks.

But mirth turned to sighs as Mara remembered the fruits of her childhood. Their sweetness still teased her senses. Even more so the benefit to her vision. These fruits would remain forever unplucked - they would've ripened in a week and sold for a pretty penny.

Elena echoed her sentiment, brooding under her hooded gaze.

A single spark rose into the darkness, caught in the crosswind. Mara's smile faded as memories flooded back, each as sweet and sour as the tenderwillow fruit.

"My grandfather," she began, her gaze lost in the fire’s dance. "He used to bring them home."

Elena leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. Even silent, her presence demanded attention, her intrigue palpable.

Mara continued, "Every summer. A sack of tenderwillow fruits." The corners of her mouth twitched with a fond smile. "All the village children would get one. He used to say it was his duty to fatten them up.” She chuckled, then followed, “our garden would be covered in their pink petals.”

In the stillness, they could almost hear the soft patter of falling petals.

"He'd tell me tales of his adventures," Mara murmured. Her eyes shone with a mixture of admiration and longing. "Just to get those fruits for his little granddaughter."

Elena said nothing. She watched Mara, taking in the nostalgia etched deep into her face.

With a sigh, Mara leaned back against the rough bark of a tree. The fire crackled on, an ironic contrast to the cold creeping around them.

Elena broke the encroaching silence. "It sounds...beautiful," she admitted, barely above a whisper. Her violet eyes seemed softer now.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Mara smiled at her companion then turned away, looking into the embers. She had failed to mention that her grandfather then harvested the eyes of the most talented village children for his alchemy later. Her story was better left unfinished, but the night was still young and so was Elena's curiosity.

“Whoever it was must have racked up quite a few points for this stunt though, I can’t help but feel jealous.” Elena mumbled.

Mara cocked an eyebrow, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "Jealous? Of that maniac, no way!"

Elena shrugged, grinning impishly. "That's one way to make a lasting impression. I might be smitten."

Mara laughed, the sound ringing out through the clearing. "Oh, Elena, what's happened to your standards?”

Elena shrugged again but her smile didn't wane. "Keeps things interesting," she responded, poking at the fire with a stick.

"Enough about mad men and tenderwillow," Elena finally spoke up again. Her violet eyes seemed to glow in the dim light as she locked gazes with Mara. "Tell me something else about your home, Mara."

Mara looked at her companion thoughtfully. Elena was hired muscle, she considered what to share next - tales of her childhood adventures? Of her first forays into healing? Or perhaps that time she'd accidentally turned the village well into a frog pond?

She opened her mouth to speak, but then paused as a distant howl echoed through the forest. Both women fell silent, eyes narrowing as they listened for signs of danger.

Another howl rang out, further this time. Mara and Elena relaxed.

"The pack is on the move," Elena murmured.

Mara nodded, her hands already moving towards her healer’s satchel. The night's peace was broken; adventure awaited them once more. Amidst fantasy and terror under the moonlit sky, they prepared themselves for the encounter with the unknown.

We go north." Mara traced the creek with a finger, her brow furrowed. "Alongside the water. It's safer."

"Safer?" Elena arched an eyebrow, curiosity dancing in her violet eyes. "And slower. Maaarraaa, that’s no fun!”"

"Both," Mara admitted. Her gaze, steady. Elena stared at the map. The pathway was scrawled in red ink. Yet she nodded, carving their path into memory. Her fingers brushed against the coarse texture of parchment. She glanced at Mara, her face softened by the firelight.

"As you wish...north it is."

Mara followed, “anyways, that is the direction that the soul-snare butterfly is moving. I’m sure it’s probably hiding something amazing. Much better than the tenderwillow fruits.”

Their journey was set. North alongside the creek. Around them, darkness deepened, and crickets commenced their nocturnal symphony.

Conversation lapsed again, but this time it was comfortable, the silence filled with shared amusement and flickering firelight as they both adjusted and prepared their armor. Around them, darkness stretched endlessly, their world reduced to the sphere of warmth where they sat.

The flames danced higher, casting long shadows and flickering light across their faces. The night air had turned crisp, the fire a necessary warmth. Mara's eyes affixed to the mesmerizing flames.

After a final bite of a beefy direhog, Elena stood up and stretched. Her silhouette cut an elegant figure against the fire's glow. "I will get some wood," she announced.

Mara nodded without looking up, lost in her thoughts. Elena found her way to the dense forest line in silence. The trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches heavy with darkness.

With her bow by her side, Elena would not be taken by surprise. Her footsteps were light, her senses sharp as she ventured into the shadows.

Tomorrow they'd start north. For now – they'd revel in the warmth of their laughter and promise of safety amidst firelight and tenderwillow ash for a little while longer.