The three men awoke to the midday sun blazing high in the clear blue sky. "It's already noon?" Nix muttered, squinting and shielding his eyes from the brightness.

"Aye," Hamford grunted, sharpening his knife against a rock. "We all needed the rest. Now's a good time to scout this island. Get a lay of the land."

"Agreed," Ambrose said, picking up his sword. "There might be someone around who can help us get off this rock."

"We should split up," Ambrose suggested, drawing in the sand with the tip of his blade. "We’ll cover more ground that way, and the island doesn’t seem too big. We’ll meet back here by sundown." He quickly sketched a rough map. "We’re here," he pointed, "and the mermaid lake is to the north. We should avoid that." He shuddered, remembering the eerie sensation of being dragged underwater by the creatures.

Nix studied the map, nerves prickling at his skin. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up. Despite agreeing with the plan, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Ambrose is a soldier, and Hamford’s tough and resourceful, he reasoned. I’m the only one without real combat experience.

As Ambrose and Hamford discussed who would head in which direction, Nix wandered along the beach, eyes scanning for something useful. His heart lifted when he spotted a sturdy branch that had likely fallen from one of the nearby trees. He hurried over to pick it up.

"Nix! Where are you running off to?" Ambrose called, curious.

Nix jogged back, the branch clutched in his hands. “Look what I found. I thought I could use this as a staff—for protection.”

Hamford chuckled, extending a large hand. "Hand it over, Little Witch. Let’s see what you’ve got."

With surprising deftness, Hamford wielded his knife, carving the branch into a well-balanced staff in just a few minutes. When he was done, it was smooth and light, perfect for Nix’s small hands.

Nix’s face lit up as he held the staff, giving it an experimental swing. “Thanks so much, Hamford!” he exclaimed.

The staff flew from his hands and landed a few feet away.

Hamford and Ambrose burst into laughter as Nix, blushing furiously, scrambled to retrieve it. “Careful, Little Witch,” Hamford teased through his deep belly laugh. “Make sure you can actually use it.”

Still flustered, Nix picked up the staff, checking to make sure it hadn’t been damaged. As he stood, he felt a presence close by. Turning, he accidentally bumped his forehead against Ambrose’s chest. Startled, he glanced up, only to be met by Ambrose’s charming, dazzling smile.

"Clumsy little thing, aren’t you?" Ambrose teased, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

For a moment, Nix could only stare. Ambrose, standing there in the sunlight, looked every bit the prince Nix had imagined—his perfect smile, golden hair catching the light, and those brilliant eyes that seemed to sparkle in the daylight. Before he could react, Ambrose spun Nix around, pressing his back against his firm chest.

“Here,” Ambrose murmured, guiding Nix’s hands along the staff. “You hold it like this. Divide the staff into thirds—one palm up, one palm down. Your thumbs curl around like this.”

Nix’s heart raced, not from the lesson, but from Ambrose’s closeness. He could feel the heat of his body, the hard muscles pressing against his back. Ambrose’s strong hands resting over his sent a jolt of warmth through him.

“T-thank you!” Nix stammered, his voice shaky. His face flushed crimson as he broke away, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. Without thinking, he bolted into the jungle. “I’ll go check out the lake again!” he shouted over his shoulder, disappearing before Ambrose could protest.

“Wait! Nix, come back!” Ambrose called, his own chest tightening with worry. What is he thinking? The lake is dangerous! His frustration at Nix’s recklessness was mixed with confusion. Why had he felt so comfortable touching him? Why had he enjoyed it?

Ambrose ran back to the camp, where Hamford was watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Nix ran off,” Ambrose explained, grabbing his sword. “I’m going after him. You scout the south end.”

Hamford gave a short nod, his expression serious for once. “Be careful, Prince Boy. Don’t let him get in over his head.”

With that, Ambrose disappeared into the thick underbrush, heart pounding not just from urgency but from the strange, unfamiliar emotions swirling inside him. The little sorcerer had gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t sure why.