Lincoln's POV:
The fire remains small, that is enough for us to have a light and a fire that can warm us.
The flames dance low, hardly competing with the moon that lingers above the waterfall like a silent observer. Silver mist whirl through the air, settling on skin and rock alike. The stream bubbles beneath it all, steady and constant, a sound that doesn’t call for attention but rewards it.
I sit with my back against a polished boulder, boots off, sleeves rolled up. The Chrono-Forge lies beside me where I can sense it—not alert.
At ease.
Ayaana sits near, her shoulder touching mine as we breathe. She’s wrapped up in her cloak, hair still wet from the water, eyes shining with firelight and moonlight in equal measure.
Neither of us speaks at first.
I don’t feel the need to fill the
