The snow had quieted, but the air still bit with cold.
Children trailed off one by one from the village square, tugged away by parents or simply losing interest after the song ended. The final chords still lingered, carried gently by the breeze.
But Fable noticed the man who hadn't moved once during her performance.
He stood near the edge of the crowd—silent, unmoved, almost like he'd been carved from the cold itself. His coat was thick and worn, his eyes half-hidden beneath his hood, but something in his stillness caught her attention.
As the villagers scattered, Fable stepped down from the platform and followed him.
"Hey!" she called, jogging a few steps to catch up. "Hey, wait a second!"
The traveler didn't stop, but he did slow enough for her to walk beside him.
Fable pulled her scarf tighter. "Sorry to bother you. I just—uh, I didn't recognize you from before. And haven't seen anyone come into the village in, like, two years."
Still no response. Just the sound of boots crunching through snow.
"I'm Fable," she offered, a bit more carefully this time. "You know—like a story. My parents thought it was funny. Grew up trying to live up to it, I guess."
Nothing.
She walked in silence for a few steps. The wind picked up, and the warmth of the inn behind them started to feel far away.
"…I sing songs," she continued. "Collect stories, mostly. Old ones, new ones. Sometimes about love. Sometimes about war. Depends on who's listening."
The traveler glanced at her, only for a second. Not annoyed. Not curious. Just… acknowledging.
"I just thought it was strange," Fable said more softly, "how still you were during that song. Everyone else always reacts. Laughs, cries, winces. Some get angry."
He said nothing.
"You didn't move," she added. "Didn't even blink when I got to the end. The part about the hero standing alone in the ash."
The traveler's eyes turned forward again.
"Sorry," Fable said after a beat. "Didn't mean to be nosy. I guess I just notice when someone's carrying silence that heavy."
He didn't respond, but he didn't walk away either.
She stopped walking and gave him space. "Anyway… I won't press. Just—just wanted to say, everyone's got a story. Even if they don't tell it."
She gave him a small, knowing smile.
"Everyone's walking around with a tale tucked somewhere under their coat.
Yours just… feels heavier than most."
Her eyes met his, searching for a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe.
He said nothing.
Fable blinked, suddenly self-conscious in the quiet space between them. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
She shuffled her feet, looking anywhere but at him for a moment. Then she gave a small, shy smile. "I'm probably the worst at introductions."
The traveler remained still, silent, as the snow continued to fall around them.
Fable hesitated for a moment after her awkward apology, then glanced up at the traveler.
"Well," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "since I've already scared you off with my terrible social skills, I might as well tell you a little about me."
The traveler said nothing, but slowed his pace as they moved toward the village center. Behind them, the children from the inn peeked out from the snow-covered cottages, their footsteps light and eager.
Fable smiled softly at the sight.
"I grew up here," she said, her voice softening. "Not the biggest village, but it's home. People around here—well, they're a bit rough, but they mean well."
A group of villagers was gathered by the square, preparing firewood. One of the older dwarves noticed Fable and called out with a grin.
"There's the restless songbird! Still chasing stories, eh? Any luck finding a man to warm your nights yet?"
The men chuckled loudly. The village kids giggled behind the barrels.
Fable flushed crimson and shot back quickly, "Don't be ridiculous! I'm far too busy chasing tales to be chasing fools."
The crowd laughed again, louder this time, and a young woman waved at her teasingly.
"Well, don't leave us waiting too long, Fable! Even a bard needs someone to write songs about."
Fable rolled her eyes good-naturedly and continued walking with the traveler.
The children following behind broke into quiet laughter.
"Don't listen to them," Fable said, smiling faintly. "They like to tease."
The traveler looked at her then, a flicker of amusement in his eyes—the first sign of something besides silence.
"I used to sneak away and hide in the woods as a kid," she added, "pretending I was off on grand adventures. My mother would find me half-frozen sometimes and drag me back, scolding me for worrying everyone."
They walked past the forge where sparks flew as a burly dwarf hammered metal, then around the well where villagers stopped to greet Fable warmly.
The traveler said little, but the children trailing them whispered among themselves, stealing glances at the silent man who didn't seem like he belonged—yet somehow was here now.
Fable glanced at him again.
"You don't talk much," she said softly.
He shrugged.
"Well," she smiled, "sometimes silence says more than words ever could."