And fly to the skies from your land
The scent of pine and fresh-cut wood hit me before I even finish sitting down, the pine especially. It’s clean and sharp, like he just stepped out of the forest, and it lingers in the folds of his sleeves, tucked beneath his collar. It’s a smell I know well. It reminds me of cozy days in just one of many homes—of hunts in the snow, of cold mornings and crackling fires.
I let him take his time. My smile tempers into something more soft, waiting, not wanting to rush him. There’s something careful in the way he watches me—like he’s peeling back layers, trying to find the kid underneath. When he says my name, quiet and slow, excitement flutters in my chest.
“You do remember,” I nod warmly. I laugh a little under my breath, surprised by how good that feels. How rare that is, not to be recognized for who my mom is and instead just for me. Even if that version of me was really annoying. Yikes.
“For the record,” I say with a crooked grin, “I know how to make my own snares now. Haven’t stepped in one in ages.”
I lift the mug to my lips again, take a small sip—and still, the spiked edge in the cocoa catches me off guard. It burns just enough to help me brave the next part.
“A lot can change when you meet Frey and they help you skip five years.” I give a small wave like ta-da, a little sheepish. “I’m nineteen now.”
It still feels weird to say aloud.
“I live in Torchline these days,” I go on, “but I’ll be coming back and forth a lot more. I got invited to join the Monster Hunter’s guild—by the Resurrected Sword himself, after I fought some void-luxere with him.” After I followed him around the woods for so long that I couldn't be turned back when the fight started… not unlike following Damien around, once upon a time. I keep that particular stubborn consistency to myself. I tap my fingers against the side of the mug. “Figured I should get to know Halo better. If I’m gonna be trying to live up to expectations, I should know the terrain of homebase.”
The fire behind us snaps and shifts. I glance into it for a moment, letting the warmth settle in my bones before I speak again.
“Halo still has its charm.” My voice is softer now. “It’s quiet. Plus, the last of my best memories with my family were made here.” The words hang for a second too long. Grief nudges in around the edges—but I shake it off before it can get comfortable. I don’t need to tell him, I hope—we were living here in Halo when the war took dad. I sit up straighter and turn back to him with a crooked smile. “What about you? You gotten up to any trouble these last couple years?”
The land that you love and all that you are
