Chapter Ten: Something Like Trust
891 Words
Jason didn’t move for a long time.
The forest held its breath around them—branches still, wind softened, even the distant birds reluctant to break the silence. The elf remained where she was, sitting on the ground a few paces away from her satchel, as if she had decided that patience was the only thing that mattered.
She didn’t stare at him anymore.
Just waited.
Eventually, Jason’s hunger made the decision for him.
It didn’t come as a rush this time. Not like before, not like the village. It was quieter now, more controlled—but still present, still insistent in a way he couldn’t ignore.
Slowly, cautiously, he stepped forward.
The elf didn’t react.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t move closer.
Jason stopped beside the bundle she had placed on the stone. He stared at it for a moment, then at her.
She gave a small nod.
“Go ahead,” she said gently.
Jason crouched.
Carefully, he unwrapped the cloth.
Inside was simple food—bread, dried fruit, and something soft that smelled faintly sweet. Nothing like the raw things he was used to scavenging. Nothing like survival scraps.
Real food.
He hesitated only a moment before taking a piece.
Then another.
He sat down fully without realizing it, legs folding beneath him in the dirt, posture still guarded but no longer fully ready to spring away.
He ate.
Slowly.
Not greedily.
Just… steadily.
The elf watched him for a moment, then tilted her head slightly.
“You were really hungry,” she said softly.
Jason didn’t respond right away. His focus stayed on the food, as if speaking might make it disappear.
After a few bites, he muttered, “Always.”
The elf didn’t interrupt.
She just nodded once, like that answered more than she needed it to.
“Are you from one of the nearby packs?” she asked after a moment.
Jason’s chewing slowed.
His fingers tightened slightly around the food.
“…No.”
The elf studied him quietly.
“That’s unusual out here,” she said. “There are wolf-shifters in the northern ranges, but they don’t usually wander this far alone.”
Jason paused again.
Then, after a long silence, he added, “I was.”
The elf didn’t press immediately. She let the words settle before speaking again.
“What happened?”
Jason’s gaze dropped to the ground.
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
The forest filled the silence instead—wind brushing through leaves, distant wood creaking, the soft life of everything that didn’t care about him.
Then he spoke, quieter.
“They said I was wrong.”
The elf didn’t interrupt.
Jason swallowed, staring at the half-eaten food in his hands.
“I didn’t change like them,” he continued. “When the moon came… nothing happened. They waited. I tried. But it didn’t come.”
His voice tightened slightly, like the words were unfamiliar in his mouth.
“So they… took me out.”
The elf’s expression softened.
“You were just a child,” she said quietly.
Jason didn’t respond to that.
He wasn’t sure how.
He took another bite instead, slower now, as if the act itself kept him steady.
The elf shifted slightly, resting her arms on her knees.
“And since then?” she asked gently. “You’ve been alone in the forest?”
Jason hesitated.
Then nodded once.
“I found a shack,” he said after a moment. “It was empty. I fixed it.”
The elf glanced toward the trees, as if she could see it from here.
“That’s where you’ve been staying?”
Jason gave a small nod again.
“It keeps the wind out,” he said simply.
There was a pause.
Then the elf asked, softer, “No one else comes to you there?”
Jason shook his head.
“No pack,” he said. Then, after a beat: “No one.”
The word lingered longer than it should have.
The elf didn’t respond immediately. When she did, her voice was careful.
“That’s a long time to be alone.”
Jason shrugged slightly, though the motion felt unfamiliar.
“It’s just how it is.”
The elf studied him for a moment, then looked down at her hands.
“That’s not how it has to be,” she said.
Jason didn’t answer.
He wasn’t sure what that meant.
After a while, he finished eating what he could manage. Not everything—he didn’t rush it. Didn’t take more than he thought he needed. His body felt steadier than it had in days.
The elf didn’t take the food away.
Didn’t move to leave.
Instead, she stayed sitting in the clearing, as if there was no urgency to go anywhere else.
“What’s your name?” she asked after a while.
Jason hesitated.
Names had once meant something different.
But here, there was no pack to answer to it.
“…Jason,” he said quietly.
The elf nodded once, like she was committing it to memory.
“I’m Lira,” she said.
Jason didn’t repeat it.
But he remembered it anyway.
The forest around them remained calm. No pressure. No chase. No demand.
Just two still figures beneath the trees—one who had learned to survive alone, and one who had chosen, for now, not to leave.
- Writer
