Levi didn't sleep.
Mae had long since retired to her straw-filled bed, snoring softly behind a curtain made from stitched furs. The crackling fire had died down, leaving only embers and the occasional pop to keep him company.
Outside, something prowled in the dark.
The occasional rustle of leaves, the squish of mud, and a low, wet growl in the distance made his skin crawl. He sat up on the rickety bench Mae had allowed him to use, clutching the blanket like a shield. Whatever beastie lived out here in the swamps, he had no plans of meeting it. Let the wolves and lizards argue over territory—he wasn't stepping outside that door for anything less than divine intervention.
As the sky shifted from pitch to pale gray, a knock tapped against the wood.
Levi flinched. He expected a monster. Maybe a bear. Or a giant swamp-crab with a taste for foreign meat. But instead, when he crept to the door and peeked through a crack, he saw a familiar mop of messy hair and a sour expression.
"Jory?" he said, opening the door fully.
The kid looked up at him, arms crossed. "You screamed twice yesterday. Why?"
Levi blinked. "Technically, it was three times—but never mind. One was out of sheer panic, one was existential dread, and the last was because I saw my reflection in swamp water."
Jory frowned. "So you are mad."
Levi sighed. "I'm emotionally stable—by medieval standards, probably."
The boy shrugged and walked inside without being invited, like this was his house now. "Gran's still asleep?"
Levi raised an eyebrow. "Gran?"
Jory gave him a look, the kind that said do you live under a rock? "Mae. Everyone calls her Gran. She's not my real grandmother, but she might as well be. She's everyone's Gran in Bogwater."
Levi scratched his head. "Right. Okay. Got it. But why are you here? I mean, didn't you throw a rock at me yesterday? Two, actually."
"I only threw one," Jory said quickly, then added under his breath, "...and maybe another when you screamed the second time."
Levi shook his head. "Look, whatever the count, I'm just surprised you're here and not... I don't know, continuing the rock-based communication."
Jory hesitated. "Da says to be careful of strangers. But Mae's letting you sleep in her house, and she doesn't suffer fools. That means you're not dangerous... or at least not to us."
Levi tilted his head. "Your dad rode in with the merchants?"
The boy nodded. "Aye. He only comes through once every few months. Trades, brings coin, leaves. Doesn't like outsiders."
"And yet you're here. Spending time with an outsider."
Jory scuffed his boot against the floor. "I'm curious. You're weird. You talk strange. You wear strange clothes. But you're not scary."
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in two days," Levi muttered. "Low bar, but I'll take it."
They sat in silence for a moment. The sun hadn't fully risen, but a dim orange light filtered in through the cracks in the shutters. Levi looked at the boy, noting the dirt-smudged cheeks, the tattered wool cloak, the confident slump of someone too young to know fear but too old to pretend it doesn't exist.
"You don't seem afraid of me," Levi said.
Jory shrugged again. "You're not a knight. Not a lord. Not a bandit. You don't even have a knife."
Levi smiled faintly. "I have anxiety. Does that count?"
The boy laughed—a short, surprised sound. "You're strange."
Levi leaned back against the wall. "Yeah... I get that a lot."
Another pause. Then, Jory reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden figure, carved roughly in the shape of a bird.
"I made this," he said, placing it on the table. "Don't tell Da. He says carving is for women and weaklings."
Levi picked up the carving, studying the uneven cuts and jagged edges. It looked more like a pigeon that lost a bar fight than a bird, but it had charm.
"It's cool," he said. "You got talent."
Jory's chest puffed a little. "I could teach you."
Levi blinked. "You want to teach me something?"
"Sure. If you're staying for a bit. You look like someone who could use something to do."
Levi smirked—then winced. "Don't make me say thank you. I'm still adjusting to being a swamp peasant."
"You say the weirdest things," Jory muttered, heading for the door. "I'll be back later. Gran wakes up soon. She'll want you to do something useful."
"Like what?" Levi asked.
"Not screaming would be a start."
With that, the boy slipped out the door, leaving Levi alone once more.
He turned back toward the little wooden bird on the table.
"Guess I'm not as alone as I thought," he mumbled.
Outside, the sounds of Bogwater waking up drifted in—boots squelching in mud, frogs croaking, distant voices calling out about fish and firewood.
Somewhere in the distance, Levi swore he heard a frog scream. Then again... maybe that was just the neighbor.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Day One. Somehow still alive.
Now he just needed to survive Day Two.