He sat on the stone in front of her tent. He drew one leg close to his chest and rested his elbow on his knee, bringing his hand to his lips.

He cast a troubled glance toward the dark forest, then turned back toward the fire burning in front of him. The knights were sleeping peacefully around the hearth. Someone shifted, turning onto their other side. Only the firewood could be heard crackling inside the dancing flames.

It was quiet. Too quiet.
He was looking at the fire, but he was not truly there. His mind kept returning to the image of her before she disappeared once more behind the heavy blue fabric.

The terror had not left her eyes. Her tears hadn’t dried yet. Her breath had fought to remain steady. Her cheeks had been flushed, and the way she had bitten her lower lip just before turning her back on him had carved itself into him. He had never seen her like that before. Not once in these three months.

To him, Lyra was steady, focused. He had seen her tend to the injured without being affected by the sight of blood. He had watched her grow stubborn and refuse to give up during training with the other knights. Falling, then rising again.

He had seen her passing his office on her way to the library, carrying books and studying late into the night. A few too many nights, he had seen her in her office, her hair loosely pinned up, one hand holding herbs while the other took notes on her papers, paying no attention to anything around her.

She was the same woman who had given orders to knights on her very first day there. The one who looked him straight in the eye when she spoke to him. His title made most people lower their gaze when they spoke to him. Not her.

Even in front of the wolves earlier, she had warned them. She had not frozen. She had run to help before they had even fully made sure the danger had passed.
So what was it that she had seen? What had made her break like that?

He drew in a deep breath.

He should have followed her sooner. He had seen her leave her tent. He had seen her enter the forest. Only when she took too long did he rise to go and find her.

And what he found, he had not expected.

Her breathing still sounded unsettled behind him. From her tent came small, careful sounds, the fabric of her clothes brushing with every movement, the gravel beneath her boots. Was she stretching? Turning onto her side? It sounded as though she could not get comfortable.

“Do you need anything?” The words left his lips quietly before he could think twice. He did not turn. His gaze remained fixed on the fire.

“No.” The answer came too quickly to be true.

“You can’t sleep.” It was more of a statement than a question.

She did not speak. He heard her move again. Had she turned toward him? Moved closer? He could not know. But her breathing sounded a little calmer now.

“No.” Her voice came slowly.

“Lyra, can you tell me what happened in there?”

“I... I don’t know...” she sounded uncertain. She paused.

“What did you see?” he asked softly.

He heard her draw in a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”

“But you did see something...”

She let out a troubled sigh.

He did not want to push her. Not tonight. Her answers were already clipped. Short.
She was closing herself off again.

Earlier, she had clung to him, had called him by his name, as if he were the only thing she could hold on to. And yet now she was shutting him out.

“I’m sorry...” Her voice was low, but steadier than before.

“For what?”

“Earlier... I shouldn’t have reacted like that...”

“You don’t need to apologise for being afraid.”

“Thank you... for being there...” He was not sure if he had heard correctly. She had spoken very softly.

He cleared his throat, having nothing to say.

It was his responsibility to keep his people safe, and tonight he had made the wrong decision by waiting. If he had moved sooner, would he have seen whatever she had seen? And if he had been even a minute later? What would have happened?

He did not like that thought at all.

“Will you stay there?” Her quiet voice reached him hesitantly, as if she were searching for something to hold on to. It made him think again of the way his name had sounded on her lips.

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to...” Her words and her voice did not match.

The corner of his mouth moved almost imperceptibly into a bitter smile. Even now, she was trying to stand on her own.

He turned slightly toward the fabric behind him.

“Try to sleep.”

He heard her shift again.

“I’ll be right here.”



The next morning, the forest seemed to have returned to its natural rhythm, as if nothing had happened.

The sounds returned first. Birds, insects, the soft rustle of leaves. Small, everyday things that now sounded almost strangely familiar. Even the light found its way again through the dense branches, breaking the darkness into pieces.

At first light, everyone had risen and begun preparing. Valir mentioned nothing to the others about the previous night.

At breakfast, he had met Lyra’s large brown eyes. She had not slept. She was pale, and she looked at him anxiously. He had nodded to her. A silent agreement between them that he did not intend to reveal anything yet.

The patrol began at the riverbank.

They found nothing.

No tracks. No signs. Nothing that could have possibly explained what Lyra had seen the night before.

And that was even more troubling.

Her panic had dragged him back to the most nightmarish campaign they had ever taken part in. It had been a year ago, in the South. He had seen this fear carved into the faces of his troops. They had pushed the threat back, but not easily. And not without casualties.

He needed to know more, but he could not push her. Not yet.

He watched her. Her gaze kept drifting toward the tree line. And whenever the area grew darker, her knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on the strap of her bag.

He kept her close, discreetly, and made sure she did not wander off alone.

Their mission continued for two more days.

To his relief, nothing else happened. The rest of their patrol was peaceful.

The wolves had vanished from the area, as if they had never passed through at all. That was good.

What he did not like at all, however, was that she did not seem to be recovering. She was pale. Unsteady.

He often found himself beside her. A strange tension had begun building up inside him. When the paths narrowed or the ground became more difficult, he was there. His curt instructions sounded the same for everyone. And yet they were not the same. His gaze never failed to find her.

He noticed the way her shoulders tightened every time she walked near him. The way she lowered or turned her gaze away now whenever it met his. Her movements had become sharper, more measured.

She checked Morris’s wound from time to time, and they kept going. She did not speak much. Not even with the brothers she had been spending time with lately. She seemed lost in thought.

On the last day before their return, they reached a descending passage. It was quite narrow. If someone slipped there, a long fall awaited them in the ravine that opened to their right. Lyra was walking close to the edge of the path.
“Be careful,” he told her quietly.
“I am caref…” She did not manage to finish the word before her ankle twisted, and she lost her balance.

His stomach tightened, and his hand reached out automatically to catch her before she fell. She steadied herself at the last moment. In the end, he did not touch her. His hand remained only a breath away from her waist. He pulled it back quickly, but the movement had already happened.

“You are not paying attention.” He sounded irritated.
Her eyes shot up to his face. Her cheeks flushed crimson red.
“I only stumbled,” she defended herself.
“This is not a place to stumble,” he tried to say calmly. “Pay attention.”

The need to keep her safe had made him lose his composure for a moment. And honestly, he did not know what to do with that.

Night found them at an old wooden hunters’ cabin. It would be the first night they would not need to sleep outside. Their shelter was small, but it had three rooms and a kitchen that would serve them well.

“Roland and Karl, the instructors, and Lyra will take the rooms upstairs,” he said as soon as they arrived and opened the door. Valir would stay on the kitchen’s sofa.

That night, Amara cooked a wonderful meal for them, including warm soup over the fire. They all sat around the table, and after they ate, they began to separate.
Lyra took a look at Morris’s hand. She was careful. Focused. 

“Thankfully, it’s healing well,” she said as she wrapped it again. She moved away, helping Amara clear the dishes. Valir’s eyes followed her.

“Valir.”
Morris pulled him from his thoughts. The man was his close friend from their time as trainees.
“Hm?”
“Is something going on with the doctor?” his voice was low, careful not to be overheard.
“What?” Valir turned to him, confused.
“You can’t seem to take your eyes off her.” Morris smiled softly, almost mischievously.
An uncomfortable feeling swept through him. “I’m simply watching over her. She is under my responsibility, remember?”
“Of course.” Morris rose from his seat with a huge grin. “Amara. Shall we go upstairs? I need to lie down. My hand hurts,” he said to his wife, who quickly wiped her hands so she could go to him.
Lyra remained a moment uncertain, a towel in her hands. She had been drying the last plate.

“It hurts?” she asked him, worried. Her eyes widened.
Morris only gestured back that he was fine and went up the stairs with his wife. Her gaze followed them for a moment, and then she turned toward Valir.

“It shouldn’t hurt. The wound has closed. When I saw it earlier, it was fine.” Her brow was furrowed, as if she needed to apologise for something.

“Don’t pay attention to him. It’s just Morris being Morris.”
For some reason, he felt annoyed.

She only nodded, troubled. She turned back to the kitchen counter and placed the plate in the clean pile.

Valir rose from the sofa and approached her. She turned when she heard his steps, puzzled. He stopped only two steps away from her.
“May I have a word with you?” His voice was low, almost a whisper.
“Of course,” she answered quietly as well.
“How are you?”
She did not seem to have expected that question. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m... fine...” she hesitated. Her shoulders tightened again.
Valir looked out the window beside them for a moment.

“We found nothing.”
When he turned back to her face, her lips had pressed together.
“Are you going to ask me about that night?” She stepped back, trying to put distance between them. Her lower back touched the counter of the small kitchen.
“Yes.”

She let out a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Honestly? I don’t know what I saw. Maybe I didn’t see anything. Maybe I was half-asleep. I don’t know.”

“Lyra, I saw you. You weren't half-asleep. You were terrified.”
He studied her face in the dim firelight. She looked tired, not only from the journey. There was a strain in her eyes he had not seen during the day.

“Yes, I was terrified,” she said, her voice tighter now. “That doesn’t mean I know what happened.”
“No,” he said quietly. “But it means something happened.”

Her lips pressed together.
“Maybe only in my head.”
The words came out too quickly, and for a moment, Valir saw her regret them.

 
“I have seen you face blood, pain, panic. You do not lose yourself easily.”
“No.” She looked back at him then, sharper now. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look at me like you’ve figured everything out about me.”
“Lyra...”
“No,” she interrupted him. “You’ve seen me work.” Her voice was low, but firmer now.

His gaze did not move from hers.
“Yes.”

“You’ve seen what I do when I have to keep standing. That doesn’t mean you know what scares me.”
For a moment, he said nothing.
“You don’t know me, Valir.”
She was right.
He did not know her. He had only studied her. And clearly, that was not nearly enough.

But he could not leave the matter there. He had to know.

“You need to tell me what you saw,” he said, more firmly this time.
“I told you. I don’t know what I saw,” she snapped.

Stubborn woman.
“Sooner or later,” he said at last, lowering his hand, “you will have to tell me.”

Her expression hardened.
“And if I don’t? Then what? Will you interrogate me?”

She had a way of testing his patience.
“If necessary.” His voice came out stricter than he intended.

She did not answer immediately. Her brows furrowed.
“I see. Grand Master, may I retire now?”

She did not call him Valir again. The title had returned. He did not like the way it sounded. Her eyes were cold. Defiant.
“You may,” he said, making room for her to pass. “For now.”
She walked past him quickly, her gaze fixed ahead. She climbed the stairs, almost running, and then he heard a wooden door close.

Why the hell was he being so lenient with her?
In any other case, he would have already begun an interrogation.
He let out an irritated breath and lay down on the sofa. His eyes went instinctively to her door on the upper floor, visible from the staircase.
Morris’s words came back to his mind.
“You can’t take your eyes off her.”
Of course he couldn’t...

It was his duty and his responsibility to watch her... and now she had seen something that might put them in danger. All of them. But she would not speak.
Damn.
Annoyed, he turned toward the fireplace, staring at the flames until he fell asleep.

                                                                                    *********

The next morning, the awkwardness at the table was intense. The whole party seemed to be walking on eggshells around Valir and Lyra. Both of them looked as though one wrong word would be enough to start an argument.
“Can you pass me the bread?” he said curtly.

Lyra, who was sitting beside the basket, took it and handed it to him, her face unreadable. She did not speak. She did not look at him.
Karl and Roland exchanged side glances, and Amara lightly nudged Morris, as if the entire atmosphere were somehow his fault. And perhaps part of it was.
When they finished and stepped back onto the road, it felt as though they could breathe again.
On the way, they did not speak much, and a little while later, they were finally leaving the dark forest behind.

Ulvenwood remained behind them.
And yet, the farther they moved, the more Valir felt something inside him remain disturbingly tied to that place.
To that night. To her.

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Thank you for reading "Rookie of the Wind".