The sun had barely touched the sky when you and Gepard left the town behind. Noel had waved at the gate, his silhouette standing quietly as the distance grew between them. He didn't follow. He didn't shout. He just smiled… like he knew.
And you didn't cry, even when the road curved and he disappeared from sight.
"Ready? " Gepard had asked then, his voice low, steady, but not cold. Just cautious. Careful.
You gave a small nod and looked ahead. The path was wide and long, lined with trees on both sides. The morning light filtered through their branches, spilling gold onto the dirt.
You didn't say much for the first hour.
Neither did he.
Two people walking side by side with stories they hadn't told yet.
But silence isn't always awkward. Sometimes… it's just the beginning of trust.
Gepard was different from Noel. Where Noel was warm, always with a gentle joke or quiet hum, Gepard was quieter—like a shield always slightly raised. He didn't talk unless he needed to, but when he did, he chose his words like a soldier drawing a sword—clean and deliberate.
Still… you started to notice the small things.
He slowed his pace just a bit when he noticed you lagging. He scanned the trees ahead, hand resting near the hilt of his blade, every time the wind shifted. And when you stopped to adjust your bag, he waited—even if he didn't look at you directly.
"Let me know," he said once, after you tripped on a root. "If your leg still hurts."
"It's fine," you had replied, brushing dirt off your knee.
He gave a small nod. "Just don't push it too hard."
It was the kind of care that didn't ask for attention.
The kind you only noticed when you looked back.
By midday, the path led to a hill with a view of the river far below. The same river, still gently winding east. It shimmered in the sun.
You both sat under a tree, sharing the quiet. Gepard handed you half a piece of dried bread without a word. You took it, and he finally broke the silence.
"You and Noel," he said, eyes still on the horizon, "have known each other long? "
You shook your head. "Not really. But… it feels like I've known him a long time."
Gepard gave a soft grunt of understanding.
He tilted his head, watching a bird fly by. "I wasn't sure what kind of person Noel had become. But seeing him now… I'm glad he stayed kind."
You smiled at that.
So did he.
Just barely.
The afternoon stretched gently, the way summer days do. The road dipped into a shaded forest, and the sound of leaves rustling above made you feel like the world was still holding its breath.
Occasionally, Gepard would point things out.
"Watch your step here—slippery rocks."
"There's a fox den nearby. Don't get too close."
"Those berries? Don't eat them. Poisonous."
It wasn't a conversation, not really. But it was his way of keeping you safe.
You started to feel… watched over.
And it made you wonder—why does someone build walls that high and still let you peek over them?
As the sun began to set, you came across a small clearing near a stream.
"We'll camp here," he said, setting down his pack.
You gathered sticks while he started the fire, and when the flames flickered to life, painting gold across his jawline, you noticed—he looked tired. Not just from travel. Something deeper.
He caught you staring and raised a brow. "What? "
You blinked. "Nothing."
He smirked faintly. "You look like you want to ask something."
"…Why did you agree to travel with me? "
That surprised him. Just a second. Then his expression softened.
"Noel asked me to."
You tilted your head. "That's all? "
He stared into the fire for a moment longer, then said quietly, "Not exactly."
A long pause followed, and you didn't push. Instead, you both sat listening to the forest's heartbeat. Crickets. Wind. A distant owl.
"I just thought," he murmured finally, "maybe I'd find something on this road too."
That night, you lay down beneath the stars, the fire a warm glow at your side.
And for the first time, Gepard didn't sleep facing away.
He lay beside you, facing the sky too, arms behind his head. He looked like he was thinking too hard—but not in a way that needed fixing. Just… feeling.
You whispered, "Do you believe people meet for a reason? "
He was quiet for a long time. Then:
"I think people meet when they need to."
He didn't explain further.
But somehow, you understood exactly what he meant.
The next morning, you woke up before him.
The fire had gone out, but the stream still whispered nearby. You turned to look at Gepard—still asleep, hair slightly messy, breathing slow and steady.
He looked peaceful like that.
Not like a captain. Not like a soldier.
Just like someone who had been carrying something heavy for a long time.
And maybe now… had someone to share the weight with.