Sarah hadn't meant to follow him.
She told herself it was just a coincidence—she had woken early, noticed Rumi was gone, and decided to make sure he didn't walk straight into a bear's den or fall off a ridge. But now, three hours past sunrise, here she was, crouched behind a fern, watching him.
He looked different out here. Not stronger or braver—just realer. The usual smug grin was gone. His movements were slower, more deliberate. His eyes, usually bright with jokes and half-baked plans, were distant. Troubled.
She recognized the look. She'd worn it before—when her mother died.
Sarah stepped into the clearing quietly.
Rumi spun, spear raised. "Who's there?!"
"Easy," she said, hands up. "It's just me."
Rumi blinked. "Sarah? What are you doing here?"
"Making sure you don't die."
He lowered the spear slowly. "I'm not dying."
"You look like you've been attacked by thoughts," she said, stepping closer. "And maybe a bush."
He glanced down. A few leaves and twigs clung to his clothes.
"Nature is clingy," he muttered.
She smiled faintly. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," he said quickly, too quickly.
Sarah tilted her head. "You're not."
He sighed and sat on a log. "Saw something I wasn't supposed to."
Sarah sat beside him. "Want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay."
A quiet breeze passed between them. Birds chirped, somewhere far off.
"David kissed Mia," he blurted suddenly.
Sarah blinked. "Oh."
"Yeah. I followed a sound. Thought maybe it was a deer or something. Instead it was them."
He rubbed his eyes. "I was such an idiot."
Sarah said nothing at first. Then, gently: "You weren't an idiot. Just... hopeful."
Rumi gave a bitter laugh. "Hope gets you speared."
"Or," Sarah said, nudging his arm, "it gets you up before dawn to chase something bigger than yourself."
He looked at her.
She met his gaze, calm and open.
"No one else came after you," she said. "But I did."
Rumi didn't know what to say.
He'd always seen Sarah as sharp and sarcastic—like a thorn bush with a brain. But now, sitting beside him in the wild, she seemed softer. Still sharp, but... safe.
"Why?" he asked quietly.
"Because," she said, voice steady, "you matter more than you know. And maybe it's time someone told you that without making fun of you."
Rumi looked away, trying not to show how much that meant.
A long silence passed.
"Also," Sarah added casually, "if you had died, I'd be stuck with Leina trying to light fires with wet leaves."
Rumi laughed—really laughed—and some of the weight lifted from his chest.
Sarah smiled.
It was small. Honest. And for the first time, Rumi noticed how the light caught in her eyes, how her voice calmed something in him instead of stirring it up.
Maybe, just maybe... he hadn't seen everything there was to see.
The forest creaked around them. Something shifted in the trees.
Sarah stood, eyes narrowing. "You hear that?"
Rumi nodded and reached for his spear.
"I think," he said slowly, "we're not alone anymore."