Day 31 – Farewells and First Steps
The morning was wrapped in mist, the kind that made rooftops look like drifting ships and horses blink like they were dreaming.
Ren stood outside Lark's door, satchel packed tight, pen holstered at his hip like a strange ceremonial blade. Zarno wore a red scarf someone had given her—maybe out of pity, maybe because she smiled once and that was rare currency here.
Lark leaned against the doorframe, chewing something bitter and herbaceous.
"You really leaving?" he asked.
Ren nodded. "You let me stay a month. That was more than enough."
Zarno bowed politely. "Thank you," she said in practiced, slightly formal village-tongue.
Lark squinted. "She learns fast."
"So did I," Ren said. "Had to keep up."
There was a pause.
Then Lark muttered, "Don't trust anyone in Daigen's Pass. Or west of Hollowbrook. And stay away from festivals in Leyn—it's cursed."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Noted."
Zarno stepped forward and handed Lark a folded sheet of paper. A doodle: Lark, a very square-faced cat, and an overly serious Ren holding a sword that was also a pen. In the corner, she'd written "Zarno + Ran = Safe."
Lark looked at it for a moment. Then he coughed, loudly, and turned around.
"Get going before I change my mind."
And so they left.
---
Day 1 – Open Road,
The trail was a wide dirt vein through green hills. The grass smelled like sun-warmed mint, and a stream followed them like a lazy dog.
Zarno ran ahead, arms out like wings. "Bird!" she shouted, pointing at a hawk above.
Ren shielded his eyes, watching the sky. "Fal'tin. Hawk."
"Fal'tin!" she repeated. Then whispered in Japanese, "Bird-san is flying to a better story."
Ren chuckled. "Maybe we are, too."
They stopped at noon by a tree older than both their worlds. Ren made flatbread with herbs. Zarno collected wildberries and came back with stained fingers and a grin.
"Try," she said, holding one out.
He bit. His face scrunched. "That's poison."
Zarno giggled. "Not die poison. Just tongue poison."
---
Day 1 – Campfire Confessions
That night, they camped under the stars.
Ren pulled out the map, and Zarno pointed at their route, tracing it with berry-stained fingers.
"Here's where Lark is. We're here now," she said. "By end of day four, Daigen Hollow."
"You ever been there?"
"No. But I want to. They have silver spiders that make music in the webs!"
Ren blinked. "Sounds like a trap."
"Everything sounds like a trap to you."
"Because it usually is."
Zarno huffed. Then in a rare moment of softness, she said, "You're different from before."
Ren looked over. "Before what?"
"Before… me."
He paused.
Then nodded. "Yeah. Me too."
---
Day 2 – Markets in the Wild
They passed a roaming caravan of merchants—painted wagons, singing children, animals with bells tied to their tails. One merchant waved and offered Zarno a trinket: a little glass bead with a glimmering swirl.
"What is it?" she asked.
The woman smiled. "A wish that hasn't picked a voice yet."
Zarno gave her a piece of bread in return.
Ren observed the whole exchange quietly, taking notes in his journal. These people had stories stitched into every object. Even lies were beautiful here.
They bought dried fruit, a music box that only played when no one watched it, and a flute Zarno couldn't stop squeaking.
---
Day 2 – The River Crossing
A rickety bridge spanned the night-black river.
Zarno held Ren's hand tightly. "It moves."
"Of course it does. It's old and hates us."
She looked down. "If we fall, will your pen save us?"
"No."
"…Will you?"
Ren didn't answer.
But he didn't let go of her hand.
---
Day 3 – Rain and Ruins
The clouds cracked open at dawn. Rain poured like apology.
They took shelter in a ruined bell tower. Inside were carvings of unknown beasts and prayers scratched into stone in a script neither of them knew.
Ren translated aloud: "'To the silence that listens, we speak what we cannot keep.'" He looked up. "Poetic."
Zarno wrote it in her notebook. "It's like this place forgot how to scream."
He looked at her.
"Sometimes I think you're smarter than me."
"I am smarter than you," she said proudly.
---
Day 3 – Camp of Lanterns
That night, they stumbled upon a small gathering of travelers—quiet folk who shared soup and stories in exchange for songs.
Zarno danced around the fire. Her laugh echoed in the trees. Ren couldn't stop watching her.
Once, he would've written a report on the group: Unusual campfire rituals. Potential cultural deviations. Possibly dangerous folklore.
But now?
He just smiled and wrote:
"Some truths don't need to be reviewed. Only remembered."
---
Day 4 – A Seat for Two
They approached Daigen Hollow at dusk. It lay cradled between hills like a tired heart. Fences made of bone-white driftwood. Crows flew in slow circles above the old grain towers.
Zarno walked slower now, quiet.
Ren looked at her. "Nervous?"
"A little."
"Want to turn back?"
She looked up at him, confused.
"No," she said. "I'm not alone."