The best thing about the night was the endless food. For the first time in what felt like his entire life, Fay ate until he was full—so full he thought he might be sick if he took another bite.
He loved the feeling. Not the sickness, but the luxury of having enough. He promised himself then and there: one day, he would provide this not just for himself, but for Mira, who mattered more than anything to him.
When he finally came back to his senses, he turned to Horin, who was casually licking her paw.
In that moment, she looked almost like a contented little kitten. But as soon as she noticed his stare, she froze.
[Why are you staring at me…?]
She shot him a sharp glare, cutting off the motion mid-lick.
"Nothing. Just… you seemed to enjoy the food as much as I did. That's good. It was good."
Fay replied, smiling faintly.
He leaned back, wondering what he should do next. The adults were still loud and full of energy—if anything, even more so than before.
[Well, I'm done eating. So let's do what the Ravari do after a feast—we go for a walk.]
She stood, dusting off her fur. [I guess… I should thank you for helping me find my creature… no, find myself.]
Without waiting for a reply, Horin led him toward the tent her father had set up for him. She gestured for him to wait outside and slipped in without another word.
Fay took the moment to glance around. The Ravari and Eluwyn mingled freely. Some were dancing, others laughing while pouring drinks. Despite how different they looked, the two tribes acted like old friends—neighbors reunited under the stars.
Just then, he heard the soft ruffling of the tent flap. Horin stepped out, holding something in her hands.
[To repay you… I'll give you this. Please don't lose it. It's important.]
She held it out—a small, intricately woven charm made from dark green thread and a single white fang, polished and shaped to be part of a necklace.
Fay blinked. "What is it?"
[It's… mine. A protector's token. It means I trust you. So don't lose it.]
He took it carefully, fingers closing around the smooth fang as her gaze lingered on him a second longer than usual.
"…Thanks," he whispered. And for once, Horin didn't snap back. She simply nodded and looked away.
Fay held the charm carefully, turning it over in his hand. The thread felt worn out, as if it had been worn for a long time, and the fang felt smooth as if it had been touched countless times.
He looked up to thank her again, but Horin had already started walking. [Come on. There's a place I want to show you, a place my father used to go when they lived here.]
He hurried after her.
The night was calm, the sky above sparkled with stars peeking between the treetop canopy.
They passed through the clusters of tents and firelight, the sounds of celebration fading behind them as they entered a quieter part of the clearing.
Horin didn't speak much—she rarely did—but Fay didn't mind.
He was starting to understand her rhythm. She preferred silence, but her steps spoke volumes about her.
They were taken with just as much confidence as her father, the leader of the tribe.
Eventually, they stopped at the edge of a ridge overlooking a part of the forest below.
There, Fireflies floated about lazily through the long grass, blinking like tiny green lanterns, while the trees swayed with the light passing of a breeze.
[He had told me about this place… an area where he brought my mother many times,] she said quietly.
Fay sat down beside her, legs dangling off the edge. "Why bring me?"
[Because you're not like the others.] She glanced at him. [You haven't treated me like I was strange, even if I look like a Ravari.]
"Or a human," Fay added as he gave a small, awkward shrug.
[A hum…]
They sat in silence for a while.
The stars above and the rustling leaves below were enough.
[The truth is, I've never really belonged.] Her voice grew softer, almost as if it could be carried away by the breeze.
[My mother was a hum—one like your kind… She left her place and found my father during one of her travels. So, I am not a full Ravari or a hum either… no matter how much I try, I can't be one of them.]
Fay turned toward her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the forest.
[I see how they look at me and see weakness, just like they did with my mother; she never said anything though, she was strong but different.]
Her fingers tightened slightly. [She was kind. Strong. She also had many creatures, more than you. She was supposed to teach me more…]
Fay listened quietly.
[But then the Sumarg came,] Horin said, her tail flicking behind her, agitated. [The giant bird—bringer of lightning and rain had been bound by spellcraft. It broke free from the hum who summoned it. They said he came to take her back… to return her.]
Her voice cracked, just slightly.
[But she did not want to return, so she fought it... to protect me.]
Fay didn't speak. He couldn't. All he could do was sit there, the weight of her words settling between them.
[So, she is gone, because she saved me and the tribe.]
"She loved you," Fay said gently after a few seconds. "That's what matters most. I lost my parents too… but I still have Mira. And you have your father, Nahrin. So you're not alone. We'll work together, get stronger, and one day… We'll fight the Sumarg. We'll beat it, I promise you."
Horin nodded at his words and cleared a few tears from her cheeks.
Fay reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the charm again. "As for this… I won't lose it," he said.
[Good,] Horin replied, standing. [Because you will need it when you hunt what Elaruîn wants you to fight, I'll expect it to protect you.]
He laughed. "When has any creature hurt me?"
[Did you already forget the lioness?]
Fay stood too, still smiling. Somehow, despite everything—being stranded in another world, fighting monsters, and worrying about Mira—this quiet moment made things feel a little more bearable.
And maybe… just maybe, he was starting to belong here, with the Ravari.