The small clearing smelled of damp moss and the faint sweetness of berries. Ember sat cross-legged near the pond, hair like a flicker of sunset.
Bug and the wind-spirit were still mid-argument—tiny whirlwinds popping around the insect every time the spirit got annoyed.
The Great "Sit Down" Crisis
Ember finally clapped her hands.
"Enough! Everyone… just sit."
Bug zipped back to Nyxar and translated.
"She commands us to… 'sit down.' Whatever that is."
Nyxar tilted his head.
"What is… sitting down?"
Bug shrugged all six legs.
"No idea. Maybe a surface creature combat stance?"
Across the clearing Ember lowered herself gracefully to the grass and patted the spot beside her.
Nyxar studied her like she'd just invented a new martial art.
"We… mimic?"
Bug flitted downward and awkwardly folded his legs. He toppled sideways.
"Ugh. Soft ground. Treacherous."
Nyxar slowly bent his knees. The forest floor gave under his weight. He startled, muscles locking.
"Ground… not hard. Not sharp. Wrong."
He finally settled, spine ramrod straight, eyes darting at every rustling leaf. Sitting was apparently an extreme sport.
Name Game
Ember pointed to herself.
"Ember. Emberlyn."
Bug translated to Nyxar.
"She calls herself Ember. Or Ember-something. Probably a double name to sound fancy."
Then Ember pointed at him with a questioning tilt.
"Your name?"
Bug turned to Nyxar.
"She wants your designation. Your… name."
Nyxar answered simply.
"Nyxar."
Bug relayed, "He is Nyxar."
The wind-spirit twirled a tiny funnel around his ear.
"Interesting. Who named you, cave child?"
Nyxar's eyes flicked to the shadow where his Grimwar usually hovered.
"A book."
The spirit stopped mid-spin.
"A book? Truly?"
Bug snickered.
"Yup. Dead serious."
The Human Reaction
Ember, catching only the rising tone of surprise, tapped Bug.
"What did you just say?"
Bug, delighted to stir chaos, translated loosely.
"Light-bulb over there is shocked because Nyxar says a book named him."
Ember's mouth fell open.
"A BOOK named him?!"
She looked between Nyxar and the glowing spirit like someone had just told her gravity was optional.
Nyxar blinked back, expression flat but questioning.
"You… were not named by a book?" he asked the spirit.
The spirit's tiny face lit with amusement.
"No. Parents usually name humans."
Bug snorted.
"Apparently books don't name anybody up here. How barbaric."
Nyxar frowned slightly.
"Then… how do names… work?"
The spirit shrugged, sending a swirl of leaves dancing.
"They just… choose them. With mouths. No magical contracts involved."
Bug buzzed with mock horror.
"So random people just shout sounds at a baby until one sticks? Outrageous."
Cross-Language Chaos
To Ember, the three of them were just making weird noises and throwing glances.
"Are… you all talking about me?" she asked, suspicious.
Bug translated cheerfully.
"She thinks we're gossiping. Which, to be fair, we are."
Nyxar eyed Ember, deadpan.
"Strange that they are not named by ancient tomes."
Bug relayed the gist, and Ember gave an incredulous laugh.
"I—I don't even know how to answer that!"
The spirit zipped around Ember's head like a curious firefly.
"Humans are endlessly odd. But charming."
Bug crossed his tiny arms.
"Charming, maybe. But still… no-book namers. I'm shaken."
The Scene at Rest
The four of them—silent boy, bright girl, indignant insect, and smug spirit—sat on the soft earth as dusk settled.
Nyxar shifted uncomfortably, still suspicious of the treacherous moss beneath him.
Bug muttered about cultural chaos.
The spirit giggled in small breezes.
Ember just tried to keep up, eyes flicking from one to the other, wondering how she'd ended up hosting the strangest meeting in the forest.
For the first time in his life, Nyxar experienced what surface dwellers called "awkward silence."
He decided he didn't like it nearly as much as caves—
but maybe, just maybe, it was interesting.