For a moment, nobody moved.
The only sound was the soft pop of Blue's little fire and the faint crackle of onion catching at the edges. The tall, braid-haired man—clearly the group's scout—kept his hand near the hilt at his hip, weight balanced like someone who expected trouble, got trouble often, and didn't consider this any different.
Blue wasn't sure whether to lift her hands higher or lower or pretend she wasn't there at all.
The firelight made the group clearer as they stepped in one by one.
The elf—the one with straw-pale hair—had a bow slung across his back and a quiver that looked like it had been used recently, feathers slightly ruffled. His eyes flicked from the fire to Blue to the bag on the ground, lingering on the tomatoes with faint confusion, as if wondering whether they were some kind of exotic weapon.
Next came the stone-speckled woman, her skin patterned like river rocks under moonlight. She moved with the slow, grounded confidence of someone who didn't fear anything in the forest.
Behind her padded a demi-wolf—broad-shouldered, silver-furred ears angled forward, eyes an uncanny shade of amber. He sniffed once, quietly, and Blue's stomach twisted at the realization he was probably cataloguing her scent like she was a misplaced pastry.
Last was a mage—she guessed—given the ink stains on his fingers and the small leather-bound book half-tucked into his belt. He looked tired more than wary, as if this interruption had arrived after a long day.
"Are you alone?" the scout asked.
Blue opened her mouth. Nothing came out at first. Her throat felt too tight. She swallowed, tried again. "Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since… now?" she said weakly.
Not clever. Not impressive. Just honest.
The demi-wolf sniffed again, leaned a little closer, then looked over his shoulder at the scout. "She's telling the truth."
"Were you followed?" the stone-skin woman asked.
"I—no? I don't think so? I mean—" Blue gestured vaguely at the trees. "I don't know where 'here' even is, so… probably not?"
The elf's eyebrow rose. "You don't know where you are."
"I really don't," she whispered. "I'm not… from here."
The words felt heavy when spoken aloud. Too big. Too sharp. Too real.
She waited for laughter. For disbelief. For someone to call her a liar.
Instead, the stone-skin woman only asked, "Which province, then?"
Blue blinked. "Province?"
The demi-wolf murmured, "She smells foreign. Not Aralei, not Firsden. Something else."
"Thank you… I think?" Blue said, unsure if being smell-categorized was normal here.
The mage crouched near the fire, examining her makeshift cooking stone with more interest than fear. "You don't speak like anyone I've met."
"Good," Blue muttered. "Because I don't feel like anyone I've met."
A beat of silence.
The scout finally exhaled, long and tired. "This forest is dangerous at night. Whatever you are, wherever you're from, sitting alone with a stew pot and a small flame is a good way to end up eaten."
Blue winced. "Okay, well… that was not on the pamphlet."
A few of them exchanged looks. Not amused. Not pitying. Just… baffled.
"Do you have a camp?" the elf asked.
"No."
"A weapon?"
Blue gestured to her sharpened stick. "Technically yes?"
The demi-wolf made a choking sound that might've been a laugh.
The scout pinched the bridge of his nose.
"All right," he said stiffly. "Come with us."
Blue froze. "With… you?"
"You can't stay here," he said. "If you don't get eaten by nightfall, something else will find you."
The idea of following five armed strangers should've terrified her more than it did.
But the alternative was sleeping beside a dying fire in a world where even the trees hummed.
She hesitated anyway. Her instincts weren't gone; they were just overwhelmed.
"Do you usually take in random… people?" she asked.
"No," the stone-skin woman answered.
"Do you want to this time," Blue asked softly, "or is this… an obligation thing?"
The demi-wolf shrugged. "You smell like fear and vegetables. Hardly a threat."
"Fen," the mage murmured, half-reproach, half-laugh.
Blue's lips twitched in spite of herself.
The elf nudged a pebble with his foot. "You don't have to stay with us longer than tonight. Dawn will give you better light to find… wherever you think you're going."
Where she was going.
The thought hollowed something inside her.
Home.
She wanted to say home.
But she didn't know how to get there. Didn't know if she even could.
"Okay," she whispered. "Just tonight."
The scout nodded once, decisive. "Pack your things."
Blue stared at her sad little camp—the stone bowl, the spoon-stick, the half-stew.
Her hands moved on their own. She poured the stew off the stone into a container made from folded broad leaves. It wasn't much, but wasting food felt worse than anything. She tucked the spoon-stick into her pocket out of some odd attachment, packed tomatoes carefully, tied the bag handles together so they wouldn't break.
She threw a handful of dirt on the fire, grinding the embers into ash.
When she looked up, the group was already turning back toward the path, each falling into their own roles—scout leading, elf in the rear, demi-wolf listening, mage checking the tree line.
They weren't waiting for her.
Their world wasn't revolving around her arrival.
She had to jog a few steps to catch up, bag bumping against her hip.
The scout glanced back just once to make sure she'd followed, then faced forward again without comment.
It was strangely comforting.
They didn't fuss.
They didn't stare.
They didn't bombard her with questions.
She was just… there. An extra in their story. Something to deal with, not something to orbit.
Good.
It gave her space to breathe.
They walked in silence for a while. Blue stayed near the mage—not too close, not far. Just close enough that if a monster leapt from a bush, he'd probably get eaten first.
He glanced at her once, noting her careful steps, the way she avoided tree trunks, the way she kept touching her grocery bag like a security blanket.
"What brought you alone into Fellshade?" he asked mildly.
"I didn't choose it," she said.
He waited, but she didn't elaborate.
Not yet.
A person didn't spill their whole life into the first open pair of ears.
"Fair enough," he said.
They reached the edge of a wider road where the forest thinned. A fire burned ahead—two other travelers already seated beside a wagon, faces lit amber in the low light.
The scout raised a hand. "We're back."
One of the waiting figures—a woman with dark curls tied up in a scarf—looked from him to Blue, then to the others.
"New stray?" she asked.
"Something like that," the demi-wolf said.
Blue stood stiffly, half-hiding behind her grocery bag.
The curly-haired woman gave her a quick, assessing look—not unkind, not indulgent, just practical.
"She eat?" she asked.
"A bit," the mage said.
"Good." The woman tossed another log onto the fire. "Then she can help peel roots if she's staying for supper."
Blue blinked. "Supper?"
The woman pointed at a basket of knobby vegetables. "There. Knife's on the board."
It took Blue a heartbeat to realize she wasn't being tested or judged.
She was being included.
Given something to do.
Given a place—not important, not central, but there.
She set her bag down, knelt beside the basket, picked up a knife that was far too sharp and far too heavy compared to her kitchen ones, and started peeling carefully.
The roots stained her fingers a faint purple. Steam drifted from the cooking pot. Someone laughed across the fire. Someone argued about whether the horses needed brushing. Someone plucked a stringed instrument with uneven notes.
Life moved around her without pausing to make room.
Blue peeled another root, quiet but steady.
Maybe she would only stay one night.
Maybe she would stay longer.
Maybe she'd find a way home.
Maybe she wouldn't.
For now, she stayed busy with her hands and tried not to think about fate or destiny or any of those ridiculous things.
She had vegetables to peel.
And for the first time since the world came apart under her feet, she didn't feel like she was about to.