And I let them sprawl out behind me.
It’s awkward as hell. But the look on the little boys face is what I focus on.
Because it feels a lot like belonging.
It hits me hard. I’ve never felt that before.
Mouse flops proudly at my feet. Bob stands like a sentinel. Linda’s notebook flickers—probably documenting “appropriate wing display protocol.”
The boy grins. “They’re so cool.”
I can’t help it. I smile back.
We wave goodbye and keep walking. I catch sight of movement across the square.
Darian.
Malrik’s explaining something to him—hands gesturing, voice low. Darian’s listening hard, posture smaller than usual.
Our eyes meet for half a second.
No guilt. Just acknowledgment.
Darian looks away quickly.
Malrik glances between us. Says nothing. He noticed. Of course he did.
Revna lifts one brow. “Interesting.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
She smirks. “Guilty.”
We end up at a bench near the edge of the village, overlooking small fields that seem impossible in this corrupted place.
Revna sits with the kind of ease that comes from centuries of existing. I sit carefully, ribs protesting slightly.
“You’re carrying too much for one person,” Revna says.
I deflect immediately. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I don’t answer.
She doesn’t push. Just waits.
Finally, I exhale. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be what they need. Be what I’m supposed to be.”
Revna tilts her head. “Who says you’re supposed to be anything?”
