Chapter 4 – Stream, Sighs, and Slight Progress
The sun had barely climbed over the treetops when the forest began to thin. Dew clung to the underbrush, and every leaf sparkled like it had a secret to tell. Birds chirped like they hadn't been paid for silence, and the breeze carried that fresh, too-clean smell that Cyrus had never experienced outside of anime intros.
He tripped on a root.
Again.
"Alright," he muttered, brushing his hands off. "This forest is definitely sentient and has it out for me."
Yura glanced back over her shoulder. "You should watch your step."
"I am watching. That's the problem. The forest keeps throwing new obstacles at me like it's a training montage I didn't sign up for."
Yura didn't smile, but there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of her mouth. She turned back around and kept walking.
Cyrus trudged behind, stepping more carefully this time. The sound of running water grew louder, and the trees gave way to reveal a shallow riverbank—clear, fresh water rushing between smooth stones. The morning light caught on the surface and made it shimmer.
Yura stopped and exhaled. "We'll rest here for a bit."
"Thank the gods," Cyrus groaned, practically collapsing onto a rock. "I was this close to making a deal with a demon for foot massages."
He kicked off his boots and dipped his feet into the river. It was freezing.
"Cold enough to remind me I'm alive. Probably the most useful thing I've felt today."
Yura knelt by the water too, cupping her hands and drinking. Cyrus watched her for a second—there was something sharp and still about the way she moved. Like a blade half-drawn but never rattling.
"I meant to ask," he said, flicking some water at a leaf. "What made you stop and talk to me yesterday?"
Yura raised an eyebrow. "You called out to me."
"Sure, but you could've ignored me. I could've been bait."
"You didn't look threatening."
"Wow," Cyrus said flatly. "Thanks. That's going in my future autobiography."
She looked at him more directly now. "You also didn't look afraid."
Cyrus blinked. "Was that… a compliment?"
"It's just an observation."
"I'll take it," he said with a shrug, "I collect those."
They sat there for a while, neither talking. Cyrus leaned back and looked up at the sky, letting the wind move his hair. For once, there was peace. No quests. No alerts. No mysterious whispers. Just water, wind, and someone who wasn't trying to kill him.
He glanced at Yura again.
She hadn't let go of her sword once since they met. Even now, her fingers rested lightly on the hilt.
"You really were born into all this, huh?" he asked suddenly.
She didn't pretend not to understand. "Since I could walk."
"That's messed up."
She didn't argue.
"…You miss it?"
"No."
He tilted his head. "Family?"
Her grip on the sword tightened slightly, but her voice stayed even. "Not in that clan."
Cyrus nodded slowly. "Yeah. I've read this trope before."
Yura gave him a puzzled glance.
"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just… thinking out loud."
He reached into the pouch they'd scavenged and pulled out a dried fruit. It tasted like disappointment.
"Alright," he mumbled with his mouth full. "Next step—village?"
"There should be one downstream, if we keep moving."
"Good. Because I need actual food. And maybe shoes that don't feel like they were made by goblins."
Yura rose to her feet. "We should go before the sun gets too high."
Cyrus stood up too, brushing off his robe. "Onward, then. Into the unknown. With only natural charm and my big brain."
Yura rolled her eyes.
They stepped away from the riverbank, back into the forest path. Birds scattered ahead, and the wind rustled the branches like someone flipping through a storybook.
Cyrus took one last glance at the water behind them, then muttered under his breath, "...Hope I don't screw this up."
The system, as usual, remained silent.
But the thread had begun to pull tighter.