Kael crouched in the shadows, his silver eyes fixed on the small hut nestled between two ancient trees. The forest around him was quiet, save for the whisper of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. Smoke curled lazily from the hole in the hut's roof, carrying the faint smell of roasted meat and herbs.
He stayed still, his breath slow, his presence blending into the forest's rhythm.
Patience was survival.
In his first few lives, he had rushed into situations like this—hungry, desperate, and reckless. Those mistakes had earned him scars, and in several cases, early deaths. This time, he would not repeat them.
Kael studied the scene carefully. The hut was small, built with uneven planks and patched with moss. There were no visible defenses, no traps around the clearing that he could see, though the herb strings hanging by the door suggested someone knowledgeable about plants or medicine lived there. The footprints he'd seen earlier were small, likely belonging to a child.
But he knew better than to trust appearances.
In this world, strength was rarely worn like armor.
Kael's stomach growled softly, a reminder of his young body's limits. He had been walking for hours with only a few sips of cold stream water. Hunger was gnawing at him, but his mind remained calm. Food could be taken. Shelter could be claimed. But only if he was certain it wouldn't cost him his life.
He shifted his position slightly, crouching lower as he observed the cabin door. No one had stepped outside since he'd arrived. Perhaps they were sleeping, or perhaps they had sensed his presence already.
The thought didn't unsettle him. Instead, it sharpened his focus.
Finally, when the sky above had deepened into a dusky purple, Kael moved.
Silent as a shadow, he slipped from behind the tree, approaching the cabin's side. His bare feet barely made a sound on the damp forest floor. He stopped near a narrow window and peered through a gap in the wooden frame.
Inside, the hut was lit by a single oil lamp placed on a small table. A pot of stew simmered over a small fire pit in the center. Herbs hung from the rafters, their scent faint but sharp even through the cracks.
Sitting near the fire was a small figure—indeed a child, no older than eight. The boy had messy brown hair and wore a patched tunic. He stirred the pot lazily, humming a tune under his breath.
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly.
A child. Alone in a cabin deep in the forest.
That was… unusual.
His instincts told him to leave. Things that seemed harmless in this world often weren't.
But hunger gnawed at him, and curiosity was stronger still. He needed food, shelter, and most importantly, information.
He stepped away from the window and circled to the door.
A light knock echoed softly.
Inside, the humming stopped. Silence.
Kael waited, calm and still. Seconds passed before he heard hesitant footsteps approaching.
The door creaked open just enough for one wary eye to peek through.
The boy's gaze met Kael's silver eyes, and his expression shifted from surprise to cautious suspicion.
"Who are you?" the boy asked softly. His voice was calm, though Kael noted the subtle tremble in his tone.
Kael kept his expression neutral. "A traveler," he said simply. His voice carried a strange weight, calm but firm, as if he were far older than his appearance suggested.
The boy frowned. "You're… barefoot. And you look… cold."
Kael inclined his head slightly. "I've walked a long way. May I rest here for the night?"
The boy hesitated, his gaze flicking over Kael's thin frame and torn clothes. After a moment, he opened the door wider.
"You can come in," he said cautiously. "But no trouble."
Kael stepped inside, moving with quiet grace. The warmth of the fire washed over him, and the scent of the stew made his stomach twist with hunger.
The boy closed the door behind him and returned to the fire, picking up a wooden ladle.
"You're alone," Kael observed, his voice calm and unassuming.
The boy didn't look at him. "My father's out hunting," he said. "He'll be back soon."
A lie.
Kael could tell from the boy's stiff posture and the way his voice dipped slightly. There was no father. Not here.
But he didn't call him out.
Instead, he crouched near the fire, extending his hands toward the warmth. His movements were slow, deliberate, showing no sign of threat.
The boy poured stew into a rough clay bowl and handed it to Kael.
"Eat," he said.
Kael accepted the bowl with a nod. He took a careful sip. The flavor was simple—root vegetables, wild herbs, and a faint trace of meat—but it was warm, and that was enough.
"Thank you," Kael said.
The boy shrugged and sat down across from him, hugging his knees. He was watching Kael carefully, like a rabbit eyeing a wolf.
They sat in silence for a time, the crackling fire filling the space between them.
Finally, Kael spoke. "What's your name?"
"Liam," the boy said after a pause. "What's yours?"
"Kael."
Liam tilted his head. "You don't look like you're from around here."
Kael gave a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I've been many places."
That answer seemed to unsettle the boy, but he didn't press further.
---
Later that night, Kael sat near the door while Liam slept on a straw mat. The boy's breathing was soft and steady, his small frame curled up under a thin blanket.
Kael remained awake, his mind turning over every detail he'd observed.
The hut was too well-hidden for an ordinary family home. The herbs hanging from the rafters included rare varieties, some with faint magical properties. The stew had been carefully seasoned, far more skillfully than a boy Liam's age should have managed.
And most importantly, there were no signs of another person living here.
No man's boots by the door. No spare weapons. No hunting tools.
Liam's story was a fabrication, and that made Kael cautious.
But for now, he would stay.
For now, this hut was shelter, and Liam posed no immediate threat.
Kael closed his eyes, leaning his back against the wall. Sleep came lightly, as it always did. His senses remained alert, his mind cataloguing every creak of the wood, every gust of wind outside, every change in Liam's breathing.
---
Morning came with a faint mist that clung to the forest outside. Liam stirred awake, rubbing his eyes, and blinked when he saw Kael sitting cross-legged near the door, his gaze calm and steady.
"You didn't sleep much," Liam murmured.
Kael shrugged. "Old habit."
Liam sat up and began tending to the fire. He moved with practiced ease, his hands deft as he added kindling and stirred the embers.
Kael watched silently. This boy was strange. He carried himself with a maturity uncommon for his age, though he tried to hide it behind a quiet demeanor.
"Do you live here alone?" Kael asked softly.
Liam froze for a moment, then gave a small nod. "…Yes."
Kael had already known, but the honesty was a step forward.
"Why?" he asked simply.
Liam hesitated, his small hands tightening around a piece of firewood. "Because there's no one else."
The words were heavy with unspoken stories.
Kael said nothing. He understood loss well enough.
Instead, he stood and moved to the door. "I'll fetch water," he said.
Liam blinked in surprise. "…You're coming back?"
Kael gave him a faint glance. "You gave me food and shelter. I won't repay that by disappearing."
The boy stared for a moment, then nodded.
Kael stepped outside, his expression calm but his mind sharp.
This boy was more than he appeared. And this forest, this world… it was already moving its pieces.
Kael would need to be careful.
But that was nothing new.
---
That morning, Kael filled a wooden bucket from the nearby stream. He studied his reflection in the water: a thin, pale boy with silver eyes that held centuries of memory.
A stranger's face. Again.
He dipped his fingers into the cold water and let the ripples distort his image.
Another life. Another chance.
But this time… he would not waste it.
---