Valen had been walking for a long time.
He had finally made it out of the forest, his arms tired from carrying the girl. Worn out, he gently placed her down beside an old tree, still wrapped in the blankets he had found her in. The air was cold. Valen picked up nearby sticks, moss, and anything else that would burn. He made a small pile, surrounded it with stones, and raised his gloved hand.
A faint spark lit up at his fingertip.
Then, pop, pop, pop, tiny sparks flew from his finger like popcorn in a hot pan. They lit up for a second before fading into the night. A small flame appeared on his skin, dancing gently like it was alive.
"Fire," he whispered.
Light pushed back the darkness. The fire caught on the wood, then on the moss, crackling softly as it grew. Valen kept adding more sticks, the glow of the fire warming his face.
The girl began to move.
Her eyes opened and landed on Valen. He was wearing a black cloak, his hands covered by gloves, heavy boots planted in the ground. Moonlight touched his hair, black as tar, and the firelight showed his sharp face and red, glowing eyes.
She screamed.
"Aaaaaaaagh!"
Valen moved quickly, covering her mouth. Not rough, just careful.
"Please, calm down. I won't hurt you," he said in a soft voice. "Do you remember? I saved you."
She nodded slowly. He took his hand away.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"Valen," he said, turning back to the fire and poking the embers. "I'm looking for someone."
There was a short silence.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She didn't reply.
"Mama said I shouldn't tell strangers."
Valen gave a small smile.
"Your mother was right. But I told you my name, didn't I? That means we're not strangers anymore."
The girl pulled the blanket closer and mumbled, "Cetha."
Valen heard it clearly.
"That's a beautiful name," he said kindly.
"Where is your mother? We'll find her so you can be safe."
Cetha frowned, trying hard to remember.
"I live in the village of Ule'rah," she said at last.
Valen raised an eyebrow.
"Ule'rah? I've never heard of that place. Where is it?"
Cetha looked down.
"I… don't remember."
Valen gently added another stick to the fire.
"It's all right. Don't worry about it," he said, his voice calm and steady.
Valen gently placed another stick on the fire, watching the flames grow a little brighter. The light danced across his face, softening his sharp features. He looked at the girl, who still sat quietly under the blanket, her eyes tired and unsure.
"You should go to sleep," he said in a calm voice. "You've had a long day, and your body needs rest. I'll make something to eat, and once it's ready, I'll wake you up so you don't miss it."
He gave her a small, warm smile and stood up, brushing dirt from his knees. "I promise I'll stay close."
girl slowly lay down, curling up under the blanket. Her eyes stayed open for a moment longer, watching Valen move around the fire. But as soon as he opened his backpack, her eyelids grew heavy. Before he could take out the food, she was already fast asleep.
Valen pulled out a small metal bottle filled with milk and set it near the edge of the fire, letting the heat rise gently beneath it. He sat in silence, only the crackle of burning wood keeping him company. Once the milk began to steam, he carefully opened the bottle and poured it into a small wooden bowl he took from his bag. He tore a piece of bread into chunks and dropped them into the warm milk.
The soft smell of cooked milk and bread filled the air. It was simple, but warm and comforting....just the kind of food a child might need after a cold, frightening night.
It took him about fifteen minutes to prepare. When it was ready, Valen gently shook the girl's shoulder until her eyes blinked open. He handed her the wooden bowl with warm milk soup and a small spoon.
"Thank you," she said softly, then sniffed the steam rising from the bowl. "What is that?"
She took a careful sip. Tears slid down her cheeks.
"Are you okay?" Valen asked, his voice low as he leaned closer, trying to comfort her.
"What is it? It's so good," she whispered, wiping her face.
"It's milk soup," Valen replied.
"Milk soup? I need Mom to try it," she said, then kept eating slowly, spoon after spoon, her hands shaking a little but steadying with each bite.
Valen didn't say anything more. He just sat by the fire, took another piece of bread, and held it close to the flame, letting it roast while gently pouring a bit of milk over it.
"You should try this soup," the girl said, looking at Valen with a small smile, "
Valen glanced at her, surprised for a moment by how gentle her voice had become.
"I will," he replied with a nod, carefully turning the bread over the fire. "I'm just making sure you will eat first."
The fire crackled softly between them. The smell of warm milk and toasted bread filled the air. For a little while, the cold night felt less harsh.