Arrows, Intimacy, & Dude

The first time I met Sylas, she was tracking a bounty. The second time, she was pointing an arrow at my throat.

"You're singing too loud," she said.

"You're sneaking too close," I replied, strumming softly.

She didn't smile. I did. Someone had to.

I followed her. Of course I did.

She was all leather and shadows, and I was curiosity with a lute. She rolled her eyes, but didn't send me away. Not really.

We camped together. She hunted. I sang. We shared bread, silence, glances.

"You're not what I expected from a bard," she said one night.

"You're exactly what I hoped a ranger would be."

She didn't look at me, but I saw the smile.

The first kiss wasn't planned. She was cleaning her bow. I was humming. Our eyes met, lingered, burned.

She kissed me like she meant to regret it.

I kissed her like I meant to be remembered.

That night, we curled into each other beside the fire. Her touch was careful. Mine wasn't.

I learned she liked to be held. She learned I liked to be pinned.

We fought side by side. Saved a village. Stole a horse. Got chased for both.

And then Dude showed up.

He fell into our camp from a tree, covered in burrs and bragging about how he just escaped a warlord's bedchamber and probably started a rebellion by accident.

"This looks cozy," he said, eyeing our tent. "Room for one more?"

"Only if you bring firewood and shut up," Sylas growled.

He grinned. He brought firewood. He didn't shut up.

We let him stay. Just for the night. Maybe two.

He slept in the hammock. We made sure to be loud enough to make him regret asking.

Eventually, I had to go. My songs belong to many. Her arrows only to one.

Dude winked as I packed. "Try not to fall for any other mysterious women with scary eyes."

"Only if you stop falling out of trees."

Sylas didn't ask me to stay. I didn't ask her to follow.

But she handed me a silver arrow before I left.

"Come back if you need me."

I tucked it in my lute case.

Because one day, I will.