The mood in camp had shifted.
The silence wasn't the peaceful kind anymore—it was the thick, tense kind, like the air before a thunderstorm. No one said it out loud, but something had changed the moment Rumi came back different. Stronger. Quieter. A little dangerous, maybe.
And David noticed.
He watched Rumi constantly now. Not just with the casual confidence of someone who assumed everyone respected him—but with the sharp, narrow eyes of a man who sensed something slipping out of his grip.
It didn't help that Mia was watching Rumi, too.
Subtly. Softly. But definitely.
Sarah noticed that, and though she said nothing, her silence was louder than most words.
The campfire crackled that evening, but no one laughed. Alimi was fiddling with his dagger. Leina stared into the flames. David, for once, didn't have anything smug to say.
Rumi sat beside Sarah, close—but not too close.
He was staring into the fire like it had answers.
"Want to tell me what's wrong?" Sarah finally asked.
He shook his head. "Not really."
"You're going to have to. If not to me, then to someone."
"I already told the fire. It didn't say much back."
She nudged him, smirking. "That's because you're not very interesting."
He looked at her and smiled for real. "Ouch."
From across the flames, Mia's voice drifted in. "Rumi."
He looked up.
"I wanted to say… I saw what you did. With the trap. It was... smart. I didn't think you had that in you."
Sarah stiffened.
Rumi just nodded. "Most people don't."
David stood abruptly. "You know what I don't think is smart? Letting a boar go when we're low on supplies."
"Still on that?" Rumi asked, not even looking up.
"Yeah," David snapped. "Because this isn't a play, Rumi. You don't get a round of applause for not failing completely."
Sarah stood. "He didn't just not fail—he succeeded. And maybe if you stopped acting like camp leader, you'd see that."
David turned to her, voice sharp. "Funny how loud you get when you're standing next to him."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Mia looked between them, her face unreadable.
Rumi stood too, calmly. "You want to settle something, David?"
David smirked. "Finally. Let's see what the best hunter is really made of."
"No," Sarah cut in, stepping between them. "This isn't helping anyone."
Rumi's eyes stayed locked on David's. "He needs to feel big. Let him."
But David didn't move.
Because just then, Mia stood.
"Stop," she said, her voice low but cutting. "This isn't about hunting."
Everyone turned to her.
She looked at David. Then at Rumi. Then at Sarah.
"I kissed you, David," she said. "But that doesn't mean I belong to you. Or to anyone."
David's expression faltered. Just slightly.
Mia stepped closer to the fire, her voice softer now. "Things change. People change."
Her eyes lingered on Rumi. Then flicked—just briefly—to Sarah.
No one spoke.
The fire crackled, indifferent.
And somewhere in the distance, the forest hummed again.
Soft.
But closer.