The fire crackled low, fed sparingly with twigs and bark. Thick smoke curled upward, carried by the wind, sharp with the scent of blood and singed fur. Kaede rotated a rib skewer slowly over the flame, her hands steady despite the tremble in her muscles.
Takara squatted on her haunches across the fire, chewing a strip of dried leaf between her teeth. Her eyes flicked between the shadows, never resting long on one place. A leader, yes—but not relaxed. Never relaxed.
Sana was the farthest out, half-shrouded in the tall brush at the edge of the clearing, still as stone. Watching.
The meat sizzled. Kaede wiped her blade clean on her thigh and cut off a chunk with a dull scrape.
"We need salt," she muttered. "Salt, herbs, anything. This tastes like ash and wet fur."
"You'll eat it anyway," Takara said, voice flat.
Kaede snorted. "Of course I will. I'm not stupid."
Takara grunted in agreement, reaching for a charred length of leg resting on a rock near the edge of the fire. She broke it apart with a practiced twist, exposing half-cooked sinew beneath the crisp outer flesh. Steam rose from the meat as she bit into it, unbothered by the texture or the taste.
Kaede grimaced but didn't comment. She leaned forward, setting another piece of rib over the flame and stacking thinner scraps of organ meat on a flat stone to warm through. A low hiss came from the coals as fat dripped and sizzled. The smell wasn't good, exactly—but it was warm and filling. Better than nothing.
Behind them, Sana finally moved. A soft rustle through grass, the faintest swish of the tip of the makeshift blade brushing foliage aside. She emerged into the edge of the firelight like a ghost: pale skin, dark hair in ponytails, and deep crimson eyes. She didn't speak as she approached and didn't ask. She just sat, cross-legged, and took the strip of meat Kaede held out without breaking eye contact.
Kaede raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
Sana shook her head. "Quiet. For now."
Takara tore another bite from her leg, bones cracking softly beneath her grip. "Scouts don't get the luxury of 'quiet for now.' Are you sure there's no movement?"
"Not that I could see." Sana glanced toward the north, lips tightening. "But I felt something. Same as last night. Too far to track."
Kaede's stomach twisted—not from fear, exactly, but from the weight of waiting. Of not knowing. She nudged the meat again, poking a pocket of trapped blood until it burst and ran sizzling into the coals. "Maybe we should move tonight."
"No," Takara said immediately. "Not until we've eaten, and the pain in my shoulder subsides."
Kaede looked at her. "Did the lion get you that bad?"
"I don't know, try taking an oversized claw," Takara answered and went back to her meal. Her eyes were looking at the forest, watching for any changes that they might have missed.
They chewed in silence for a while. The fire cracked again, louder this time, throwing sparks into the dark. The meat was dry and stringy. Grease clung to their fingers, the edges of their sleeves, and their teeth. Hunger didn't care. They ate it anyway.
"Tomorrow," Takara said eventually, her voice quieter. "We go inland. Hit the creek, double back through the canyon pass. We'll lose time, but it's safer than the ridge."
Kaede nodded. "Assuming it's still passable."
Sana finished her portion and licked her fingers clean. "I'll check it at first light."
The fire popped again, throwing brief orange light across three tired faces.
Kaede reached for another skewer. "Next time, I swear I'm catching something that doesn't taste like rat."
"Good luck," Takara said without looking up. "Out here, everything tastes like rat."
They didn't laugh. Not really. But the silence between them eased a little.
And in the distance, something moved.
—
Settled beneath a wide, gnarled tree whose roots curled like sleeping serpents around a carpet of moss. Sunlight spilled through the leaves in dapples, catching Luna's antlers and casting spidery shadows across the forest floor.
Oliver sat with his back against the trunk, legs stretched out, with a notebook in hand.
He flipped to an empty page and began tearing a piece from the back cover. Luna knelt beside him on all fours at first, then slowly folded her legs beneath her, her tail swishing once before settling.
"You're not eating that?" she asked, watching with the alert intensity of a predator in stillness.
"Nope. "Rolling paper," Oliver replied, placing the strip down as he retrieved the bag again. He pulled out the weed, fingers working with practiced rhythm, separating stems from the soft green clusters and grinding them between his thumbs. "You're about to have your first taste of cannabis. Feel honored."
"I don't know what that means," Luna said, peering closer. "But you're doing it very precisely. That means it's important."
He took another paper from his notebook, formed a filter tip from the edge, and began shaping the first joint. The second followed shortly after, a little crooked but tight enough.
When he finished, he handed one to Luna. She accepted it gingerly, turning it over between two fingers as if it might twitch and flee.
"Like this," Oliver said, lifting his own. He struck a match, the sulfur tang briefly overpowering the forest's damp scent, and lit the tip with a slow inhale. The end glowed faint orange. Smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled through his nose.
Luna blinked, copying his motion. She held the joint near her mouth but paused.
"Do I bite it?"
"No," he said, amused. "Inhale. Breathe through it—slowly. Then hold it, and let it out."
She did. A shallow pull at first, cautious. She held it in her lungs a moment too long, then coughed violently, the sound tearing through the trees like a bark.
Oliver laughed, leaning back against the bark, letting the moment stretch. "Everyone does that the first time."
Luna's eyes watered. She looked stunned, then... delighted. "It stings like pine thorns in my throat," she wheezed, but a strange smile curled at the corners of her mouth. "But I feel something..."
"What do you feel?" he asked, puffing again and watching the smoke curl up toward the leaves—his dantian rippling with a slow rhythm.
She tried again, slower this time, more controlled. They sat in silence as time stretched and softened, the sounds of the forest growing distant and melodic—the wind in the branches a kind of hum, the birds calling in long, echoing notes. Luna tipped her head back, her antlers scraping gently against the tree bark.
"The forest smells louder," she said, voice airy. "Colors are deeper. Even your face looks more... alive."
Oliver smirked lazily, eyes half-lidded. "You say that like I usually look dead."
"You do," she replied matter-of-factly.
They both laughed—hers high and lilting, his deep and quiet. Smoke drifted between them, catching sunlight like strands of silk.
Then Luna leaned forward, tilting her head again. "I like this," she whispered. "This... feeling is better than what I experienced with my berries. I'm getting stronger the more I..." Ah, you said smoking? Smoke?" A pause. "But I'll still show you my plants. They do something different, then make my stomach warm and stronger."
Oliver smiled. "Deal," he said, half confirming that weed is slightly boosting her cultivation like it does to him, and if she has something similar, he can harvest a bunch before starting his plan to leave Japan.
He flicked ash onto the stone beside him, gaze drifting up to the canopy above. "This forest is full of strange things."
Luna took another drag, her eyes glowing faintly in the dappled shade. "It is..."
She didn't finish. Oliver leaned in, pressing his mouth to hers. Their kiss was slow—smoke curling from both their lips, mingling as their tongues met, heat and haze tangling between them.
Their breath caught in each other's mouths, warm and sharp with the taste of smoke and resin. For a moment, neither moved—just the slow slide of lips and the quiet rush of the forest around them. Somewhere above, a bird chirped once, then fell silent.
Luna pulled back just enough to look at him, her lips slightly parted, her pupils wide. "You always do that," she whispered.
"Do what?" Oliver asked, voice low.
"Interrupt me when I'm about to say something important." She exhaled through her nose, the last of the smoke drifting between them.
He gave a slight shrug. "We've just met. I doubt I've even had the chance to interrupt you properly."
She pouted, then lifted a finger to point dramatically at her eye. "Fear my wrath, human! This is my forest!"
Oliver flinched, blinking. A dull throb tapped behind his temple. "What was that for?"
"You interrupted me from saying that."
"I did?" he asked, hitting his blunt again.
Luna nodded solemnly. "Yes. When you stabbed me. And started speaking deer."
He blinked again, brows lifting as the memory came back. "Oh right… intent blades. And antler grammar. That whole mess."
"Mm-hmm." She poked herself in the places where he'd apparently 'struck' her.
"Sorry, not sorry," he said, ruffling her hair.
She pouted deeper… but didn't stop him. Her head tilted into his touch, and a small, throaty sound escaped her lips.
"Mmm," she purred, voice breathy, "you really shouldn't… but I'm getting wet again~"
Her eyes gleamed up at him, lips parted in a smile that was half desire, half mischief.