Page 101 of Daughter of the Serpent

“What do you think it was then?” She asked as she worked.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “But I could have killed it tonight if you hadn’t stood in my way.”

Sylvie failed to meet his eyes, focusing on the task at hand.

“I had a clear path, that blow could have killed it.” He said. “Why did you interfere?”

Sylvie shook her head, her hands stilling. “I…I don’t know.”

She looked up. “There was just something telling me that it had to live.”

“Your compassion is too strong Sylvie.” He said, lowly. “If we’re right, it has been what’s responsible for killing those people. It will have to be dealt with.”

She nodded. “I understand, but I could not stand aside, especially when it could have hurt you, Haldor - worse than it already did.”

“And it could havekilledyou for stepping in.” He said again, more firmly this time. “Don’t ever put yourself at risk for me, again. Do you understand?”

“Now that is a promise I cannot keep.” Sylvie huffed, her hands moving back to the bandage.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” Haldor sighed. “There may be a day where you won't be able to save everyone, Sylvie. Where you may not be able to save me.” His eyes met hers, softening. “And if that day should come, you know what I’d choose.

Her eyes snapped up. “You’d choose death, rather than let me save you?”

“We all have our destined fate.” He replied softly. “And I’d never have you in danger - not for a second. Not for me.”

Sylvie's eyes held his, and for a moment the young boy resurfaced in Haldor’s eyes - the soft, the tender. That part of him that she knew existed beneath the hard and rigid mask, the part of him that begged to be seen and known, yet seemed terrified of being exposed. And in thatbreath that lasted between them, Sylvie wished she could stay, anchored to that moment. Stay frozen in space and time to see that version of him grow, uncoil, and keep it forever. This was the part of the man, her best friend, that she knew she loved, and could love deeply, if he allowed it. But as she searched the lines of his face now, every bend and curve of his lips, his jaw - she wasn’t sure if he knew how.

“The hour grows late.” Godvick’s voice sliced through the moment, causing them to part. “You need rest.” His tone was stern as he pressed past the door, shutting it behind him. “Let the poultice do its work.”

Sylvie stepped further back, her cheeks flushed as she busied herself. Godvick passed her the saplings, and nodded to the hearth.

“Tea will do nicely.” He said. “Only a few leaves. Nothing more.”

She glanced over at Haldor one last time, catching the faint, appreciative smile he offered her. It was a small thing, but it was enough to make her remember the soft part of him - the part of him that made her heart stir.

Godvick moved in closer beside her. “We must speak, you and I.”

She looked at him and nodded, confusion washing over her.

“Come find me when he is settled.”

Sylvie and Godvick sat by the fire, the warm glow flickering across their faces while the crackling of the wood filled the quiet. The night had deepened, and the shadows stretched long, painting the room in a dance of light and dark. Haldor had fallen asleep quickly after the administration of the tea, the discomfort and pain that had filled his face now eased, his features smoothing out in the depths of sleep. Sylvie’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, her thoughts still tangled with the events of the day, before she turned her gaze back to Godvick.

He leaned forward, stirring the pot hanging over the fire, his expression thoughtful as he glanced at her. “You’ve had quite the day,” he said, his voice low, careful. “Facing a bear like that and living to tell the tale…not many can say the same.”

Sylvie nodded, the memory of the bear’s looming form still fresh in her mind. She could still feel the heat of its breath, see the fierce intelligence in its eyes. “It came out of nowhere,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Godvick’s gaze flickered, and he leaned back, his expression unreadable. “Bears don’t usually wander so close to the village. It’s…unusual.”

“Yet this isn’t the first time I’ve seen it.” She said her eyes meeting his. “I saw it once before, but it didn’t hurt me, it didn’t even seem vicious.”

“Strange indeed.” Godvick said, scratching the thinning hair on his chin.

Sylvie looked at him, noting the way his words hung heavy. “What do you make of it?”

He stirred the pot again, his eyes distant.

“Do you think it’s a sign?” She asked. “From the gods?”

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