Zelene let out a quiet breath, still leaning slightly against the doorway as the wind brushed through her tangled hair. The sun filtering through the trees warmed her skin, faintly reminding her she was, somehow, still alive.
"Come," Elias said softly. "You should sit."
He guided her to a small sitting area just outside the cottage — a crude but sturdy bench made from uneven slabs of wood, smoothed only by years of use. Moss had crept up the legs, and one corner was splintered, but it felt almost comforting beneath her trembling hands.
The little cabin stood nestled at the edge of a forest clearing, with wildflowers curling along the roots and a faint sound of running water nearby. It wasn't grand, nor even tidy, but something about it felt safe — untouched by the wars, the betrayals, the blood she had just left behind.
"Thank you…" she murmured, her voice still fragile. "For helping us."
Elias shook his head slightly, settling down across from her on a low stool that looked half-broken. "You don't need to thank me. It was chance that I found you."
"Chance," said the other voice again — sharp, scoffing.
The boy from earlier stepped closer, his arms still crossed. Up close, Zelene could see him better — the defiant tilt of his chin, the quick glint of his eyes, and that constant tension, like a cat ready to spring.
"She doesn't look like a commoner," he said flatly, eyes flicking over her silver hair and the faint gleam of violet in her eyes. "And neither does the man sleeping in there. You were being chased, weren't you?"
Zelene froze for a second. His words weren't cruel — just blunt, almost too perceptive.
He continued before she could answer, "Once that guy wakes up, you're leaving. We don't need any trouble here."
His tone was cold, but there was something hesitant in the way he looked at her — as if he didn't quite mean it as harshly as it sounded.
"Enough," Elias said quietly.
The boy turned his head, biting back a retort.
"Finn," Elias continued, his tone patient but firm, "that's not how we speak to guests."
The boy clicked his tongue in annoyance. He muttered something under his breath, looking away. "I'm just saying."
Zelene lowered her gaze, clasping her hands together. "It's alright," she said softly. "He's right to be careful. I would be too."
When she looked up again, her eyes were gentle — the faintest smile on her lips, weary but sincere. "Still… thank you. You both saved our lives. That's something I'll never forget."
Elias studied her for a long moment, then nodded — almost respectfully.
Behind them, the forest sighed with the sound of evening wind through the leaves — and for the first time in days, Zelene felt something fragile and unfamiliar return to her chest.
Hope.
Elias's gaze softened a little. "You're safe here. Rest for now. We'll figure out the rest later."
For a moment, silence stretched — peaceful, but fragile.
Then Finn, still standing with his arms crossed, mumbled, "You shouldn't thank people so easily. Not everyone's as kind as Elias."
Zelene turned her head slightly, a faint, tired smile ghosting her lips. "Maybe it's a good thing that I met someone who is."
Finn blinked, caught off guard by her calm tone. He turned away quickly, muttering, "Tch… whatever," though the edge in his voice had softened.
Elias chuckled under his breath. "He talks like that," he said, "but he's got a good heart. Somewhere under all that attitude."
"I heard that!" Finn called, pretending to sound annoyed.
Zelene's smile deepened, just barely. For a fleeting second, it felt like the forest was breathing again — alive, and maybe… safe.