Page 30
Story: A Hunger Soft and Wild
“Both,” she says.
The fire crackles louder as if leaning into the space between us. Roan’s gaze drifts to the scar on her left forearm. I’ve seen that scar before but never asked about it.
But tonight... tonight feels different.
There’s something in the way her shoulders are set, the way her jaw tenses just slightly, that makes my chest tighten.
I hesitate, then push to my feet, gathering my cloak around me as I cross the short distance between us. The ground is cool beneath me as I settle beside her, close enough that I can see the faint crease in her brow.
“Is this…about earlier?” I ask lightly, nudging my knee against hers. “Am I reallythatterrible of a student?”
Roan huffs a quiet laugh, dragging the knife along the stone again. “Let’s just say, you’ve got potential. Even if you fight like someone who’s never had to actuallywinbefore.”
I scoff, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I had you pinned.”
She pauses mid-motion—just for a beat—then clears her throat, not quite meeting my eyes. “Once.I let you have that one.”
“Oh,letme, did you?” I arch a brow.
Roan glances up at me—and for a second, I think she’s going to say something sharp, something clever like she usually does. Her mouth even quirks like she’s about to smirk, about to fire back with some teasing jab that’ll make me roll my eyes and pretend it doesn’t make my chest flutter.
But the words never come.
Roan doesn’t answer, just keeps working, the scrape of metal filling the quiet between us. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’sweighty, like there’s something she’s holding back. I wait, letting the silence stretch, feeling the shift in the air around us.
Then, finally, she exhales, setting the knife down beside her. Her fingers tap against the hilt, once, twice, before stilling.
After another long silence, she says, “I had a partner once. Name was Garrick.”
The words slip out low and unceremonious, like they’ve been waiting in her chest for a long time and finally pushed past her guard.
A story.
It’s the last thing I expect from her now—especially after the shift in her mood, after the way she shut the door between us earlier. But then again… this is our routine, isn’t it? Stories in the quiet. The slow trading of truths like worn coins passed across a firelit table.
So I stay quiet. I don’t move, don’t speak. Just wait.
Her voice is steady but lower than usual, rough around the edges. “We worked together for a couple of years. Simple jobs, mostly—bandit patrols, escort missions, the occasional bounty.”
The idea of Roan working with someone else, fighting alongside someone she trusted, unsettles me in a way I don’t expect. Not with jealousy, exactly. But with a soft ache.
Because Roan doesn’t talk about people. Not like this.
I say nothing, careful not to break the fragile thread of her story.
“He was a good fighter. A good person too. Too good, maybe.” Her lips press into a tight line. “Garrick believed the best in people. Thought he could read anyone. I told him once that trust was a luxury we couldn’t afford.” Her jaw flexes. “He laughed. Said I was too cynical.”
The firelight dances across her face, highlighting the scar along her cheekbone. I resist the urge to move closer. “What happened?” I ask softly.
Roan’s eyes shift to mine. For a moment, I think she won’t answer.
Then she looks back to the fire. “We took a contract protecting a merchant caravan through Dawnreach Pass. Dangerous route. Lots of ambushes.” Her fingers curl over her knee. “The man who hired us was named Thaden Vire. Big smile, smooth voice. Promised us double the going rate if we made it through with all the goods and merchant intact.”
Her mouth twists into something bitter. “Garrick was excited about the coin. I was suspicious from the start. The man smiled too much. Like a gambler who already knew how the dice would fall.”
The air between us cools. The warmth of the fire feels false against the chill tightening in my chest. “What happened?” I ask again, though I’m not sure I want to know.
Roan’s gaze drops to her hands. “Two days into the journey, we hit the pass. Narrow cliffs, only one way through. Perfect spot for an ambush. I kept telling Garrick we should turn back, or at least scout ahead.” Her voice cracks slightly. “But Vire convinced him to press on. Said his scouts had checked the path. Said it was clear.”
The fire crackles louder as if leaning into the space between us. Roan’s gaze drifts to the scar on her left forearm. I’ve seen that scar before but never asked about it.
But tonight... tonight feels different.
There’s something in the way her shoulders are set, the way her jaw tenses just slightly, that makes my chest tighten.
I hesitate, then push to my feet, gathering my cloak around me as I cross the short distance between us. The ground is cool beneath me as I settle beside her, close enough that I can see the faint crease in her brow.
“Is this…about earlier?” I ask lightly, nudging my knee against hers. “Am I reallythatterrible of a student?”
Roan huffs a quiet laugh, dragging the knife along the stone again. “Let’s just say, you’ve got potential. Even if you fight like someone who’s never had to actuallywinbefore.”
I scoff, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I had you pinned.”
She pauses mid-motion—just for a beat—then clears her throat, not quite meeting my eyes. “Once.I let you have that one.”
“Oh,letme, did you?” I arch a brow.
Roan glances up at me—and for a second, I think she’s going to say something sharp, something clever like she usually does. Her mouth even quirks like she’s about to smirk, about to fire back with some teasing jab that’ll make me roll my eyes and pretend it doesn’t make my chest flutter.
But the words never come.
Roan doesn’t answer, just keeps working, the scrape of metal filling the quiet between us. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’sweighty, like there’s something she’s holding back. I wait, letting the silence stretch, feeling the shift in the air around us.
Then, finally, she exhales, setting the knife down beside her. Her fingers tap against the hilt, once, twice, before stilling.
After another long silence, she says, “I had a partner once. Name was Garrick.”
The words slip out low and unceremonious, like they’ve been waiting in her chest for a long time and finally pushed past her guard.
A story.
It’s the last thing I expect from her now—especially after the shift in her mood, after the way she shut the door between us earlier. But then again… this is our routine, isn’t it? Stories in the quiet. The slow trading of truths like worn coins passed across a firelit table.
So I stay quiet. I don’t move, don’t speak. Just wait.
Her voice is steady but lower than usual, rough around the edges. “We worked together for a couple of years. Simple jobs, mostly—bandit patrols, escort missions, the occasional bounty.”
The idea of Roan working with someone else, fighting alongside someone she trusted, unsettles me in a way I don’t expect. Not with jealousy, exactly. But with a soft ache.
Because Roan doesn’t talk about people. Not like this.
I say nothing, careful not to break the fragile thread of her story.
“He was a good fighter. A good person too. Too good, maybe.” Her lips press into a tight line. “Garrick believed the best in people. Thought he could read anyone. I told him once that trust was a luxury we couldn’t afford.” Her jaw flexes. “He laughed. Said I was too cynical.”
The firelight dances across her face, highlighting the scar along her cheekbone. I resist the urge to move closer. “What happened?” I ask softly.
Roan’s eyes shift to mine. For a moment, I think she won’t answer.
Then she looks back to the fire. “We took a contract protecting a merchant caravan through Dawnreach Pass. Dangerous route. Lots of ambushes.” Her fingers curl over her knee. “The man who hired us was named Thaden Vire. Big smile, smooth voice. Promised us double the going rate if we made it through with all the goods and merchant intact.”
Her mouth twists into something bitter. “Garrick was excited about the coin. I was suspicious from the start. The man smiled too much. Like a gambler who already knew how the dice would fall.”
The air between us cools. The warmth of the fire feels false against the chill tightening in my chest. “What happened?” I ask again, though I’m not sure I want to know.
Roan’s gaze drops to her hands. “Two days into the journey, we hit the pass. Narrow cliffs, only one way through. Perfect spot for an ambush. I kept telling Garrick we should turn back, or at least scout ahead.” Her voice cracks slightly. “But Vire convinced him to press on. Said his scouts had checked the path. Said it was clear.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111