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“We covered a lot of distance today,” Rayla noted aloud, crouching down in the centre of the clearing and giving the ground a quick pat with one hand. The grass was patchy and gave way to hard-packed soil, but it was flat enough and would serve as an adequate spot to rest for the night. She turned her head to the side, lifting her gaze to meet Callum’s. “Time to rest, so we can do it all over again tomorrow,” she added, standing to face him properly, longbow in hand. It may have been years since they’d travelled together, but she still remembered the nights they had spent on the road. Being a human, Callum wasn’t capable of travelling well into the night the way that she was, and she had come to understand that a long time ago. Now, the sun was setting, giving the sky a soft, orange-y glow that wouldn’t last long before it gave way to the night.
Callum still sat astride his mount, a tall and stunning white stallion with a silky silver mane and a confident stature. Bait, the spotted glow toad, was perched unsteadily between Callum’s thighs, just about ready to fall off the horse. The way Callum gazed steadily down at Rayla made her heart flutter in her chest, but her expression gave nothing away.
Truth be told, she had missed this. Missed him. But now that she’d returned, she felt even worse. She ached to return to the old days, back when they were just kids trekking together through the magical lands of Xadia, young and stupid, and in love.
Well – even now, two years later, they were still young and stupid. But in love? That, she wasn’t so sure about. Things were different. There was a distance between them now, and she felt as though she couldn’t read him like she used to. She couldn’t even speak to him like she used to. There was too much pain now. Too many nights spent alone missing him, wondering if he missed her too, or if he hated her. Now, even with him right in front of her, she felt even more alone than she had when they’d been apart, because she still didn’t know how he felt.
“Right,'' Callum began hesitantly, “but – why sleep in the grass, when we can sleep in class?” he rhymed, spreading his arms proudly. He shot Rayla his signature smirk. Two years ago, that smirk would have melted her inside out and sent her heart racing. But now… something was different. He’d lost his brightness. There was a sombre feel about his presence that hadn’t been there back then. And it was because of what she had done to him. Rayla’s tongue was in her throat and her heart was on the ground and she realised she couldn’t speak, she could simply look, raising one eyebrow as if to ask for elaboration.
“There’s a nice, cosy inn just ahead,” Callum announced, gesturing off towards the trees. Rayla shifted her gaze to follow his. Just through the forestry, the earth dipped down to form a valley, in the centre of which was a hill topped with a quaint little cottage house, smoke filtering up from the chimney. Rayla had noticed it earlier, but had brushed off the idea of going.
“Hmm. It seems like an indulgence,” she argued now, turning her back fully to Callum to get a better look at the inn.
Callum guided his horse forward a few steps, coming to a stop just at Rayla’s side. She tilted her head to look up at him, frowning. “If we get better sleep, we can leave earlier tomorrow,” Callum pointed out. He held out his hand towards her. Rayla breathed in sharply – before realising he was simply reaching for Stella, the orphaned Cuddlemonkey that took up near-permanent residence atop Rayla’s shoulder. Stella scampered up Callum’s arm, coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Rayla took this as Stella taking his side.
“Oh, fine! You’re all softies,” she remarked, glaring at Callum, Stella and Bait, who were all watching her with cute doe-eyes. Stella leaped back down from Callum’s shoulder, returning to Rayla’s instead. She chittered happily. “Aww – soft and cuddly,” Rayla cooed, scritching the monkey’s chin. She returned to her mount, a dark-furred shadowpaw with a frosty mane, swiftly settling herself atop the saddle. She and Callum rode one after another through the gaps in the trees until they reached the open valley.
It was a scene plucked right out of a storybook; the cosy inn across the valley, accompanied by a rustic stable, surrounded by fields of soft bluegrass and wildflowers. To top it all off, everything seemed to glow a shade of pinkish gold under the dying light of the sun. Callum clicked his tongue without warning, and his stallion picked up speed and galloped across the way to the inn. “Wha- hey!” Rayla shouted, digging her heels into her own mount to keep up with the new pace.
They reached the inn in no time, where they dismounted in the lawn, just beside the steps that led up to the front porch of the building. “Okay – I’ll go make sure there’s space available, and then I’ll come back and we can take our mounts to the stable,” Callum explained firmly. Rayla nodded, and watched him as he hurried up the front steps and into the inn.
Suddenly alone, Rayla stood in still silence. She felt a familiar throbbing ache behind her eyes, like she was going to cry, but she breathed sharply and patted her hands on her thighs and brushed it off. She grinned at Callum’s white stallion, reaching out to pet him on the neck.
“Well! You’re stuck with me for now, but that’s alright, Callum will be back in a moment,” she said.
To the goddamned horse.
Ugh… What was she doing? Her smile faded and the ache returned, this time deep in her chest. Her nose stung and tears welled in her eyes. “He’ll come back,” she repeated, her voice unsteady and cracking. She let her hand fall from the horse’s soft neck and instead brought it to wipe her nose.
He’ll come back, she thought, but not really. No, the Callum she’d met those years ago was gone. He still existed – just not for her, not anymore. Now he was a shell of false happiness and half-hearted jokes, and every time he looked at her she just wanted to disappear. Things had been alright at first, at the castle. They had almost started to get along comfortably, but being alone on the road once more was just too much to bear. Rayla would give anything to go back in time and say goodbye. To erase the pain she’d caused him. But she’d stabbed him in the heart and she hadn’t looked back. As much as she hated herself for it, she’d done it, and that was something she couldn’t just apologise about and forget.
Oh, well.
No changing the past.
She shouldn’t let him get to her like this.
She shouldn’t be so goddamned emotional.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, doing her best to erase the tears from her cheeks. She focused on the quiet sound of the wind in the grass. The scent of wildflowers and honeycomb and spring water drifting up from the valley. The distant lowing of the cows that dotted the small pasture behind the inn, having one last stroll before retiring for the night. She couldn’t see them around the backside of the inn, but she imagined there were a few of them. Perhaps a couple of calves as well.
There. It was better when she could find something else to think about, no matter how unimportant. The pain in her heart ebbed, slowly but surely, and she took a shaky breath, clearing her lungs with the warm, fresh air. Besides, she assured herself, she’d have all night alone in her own room where she could sort out her thoughts and steel herself before the continuation of their journey.
Just then, the front door of the inn opened, and Callum stepped out, his boots clacking on the creaky wooden porch as he came down the steps. “I got us a room,” he informed her brightly, offering a grin.
Rayla’s face fell. “A room?” She echoed flatly. “One?”
“Oh. Yeah, it was just the one, the other two were full,” Callum explained, running a hand through his hair. “Is that… not okay?” His smile faltered as he searched her gaze.
“No, it’s okay,” she assured evenly.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
–
She had gone quiet.
Callum had noticed immediately after returning from checking them in. Rayla had closed herself off to him once again. Even before they left for the journey, when things between them had been almost normal again, there had still been moments where she would shut down. It was a back-and-forth, hot-and-cold pattern, and he was getting weary of it. She did it most often when they were alone – when things got too personal or emotional. He knew she struggled with discussing her feelings, but he wished she’d let her guard down long enough for them to really, genuinely heal. During the walk to the stable, though, she didn’t say a word to him, and he worried he’d done something wrong.
The stables were relatively spacious, considering the size of the inn, so there was plenty of room for Callum and Rayla to board their mounts overnight. Callum, struggling to tie up his stallion, flitted his gaze briefly towards Rayla. She’d already tied off a bowline knot in her feline shadowpaw’s lead rope and was standing at the edge of the stall. She kicked the sand beneath her feet absentmindedly, avoiding Callum’s gaze warily. Instead, she looked at the ground, the stalls, the horses – anything other than him. He shifted his eyeline back to the lead rope in his hands, taking a breath.
Rayla was close enough that Callum could reach out and touch her, but he had never felt further away from her. He didn’t know what to do. He was upset with her. Angry with her. She had left him in the night without so much as a warning, let alone a heartfelt goodbye. He had given her his heart and she’d sliced it in two with one of her blades. Then she dropped it on the floor in front of him without even an attempt at stitching the wound, before turning on her heel and leaving him in the dark for two years.
Part of him wanted to hate her.
Just one small part.
But he didn’t. He knew, deep down, he never really had. He didn’t forgive her, but even now, silently standing in her presence, he couldn’t feel anything for her but affection. As much as he, admittedly, sometimes wanted to, he couldn’t stop loving her.
Which was why he’d been trying so hard to be friends again. He may not forgive her yet, but he still wanted her in his life. He just wished he knew how to communicate that. How to tell her that, while he did need time to heal, he also needed her.
Because, now, something had flipped. Rayla had taken back the slack she’d given him to work with, and she was drifting away again. She was – effectively – tired of walking on eggshells, and he supposed that was his fault. He hadn’t tried hard enough to show her how much he cared about her and he could feel her losing hope.
The knot came undone in his hands for a second time and he sighed defeatedly. The sun had set and in the dim light of the lantern on the wall, he could barely see what he was doing. He was just about ready to give up and use a simpler knot and just hope the horse didn’t break loose, when he felt Rayla step up behind him. She placed one hand hesitantly over his own, signalling him to stop. He submitted and took a step back, allowing her to take the lead rope. She tied the stallion up swiftly, without a word.
“Thanks,” Callum offered her, keeping his voice light. Rayla flashed him a smile and said, “yeah,” before shutting the stall door on the stallion and returning to stand in front of Callum in the walkway.
He returned the smile with his own, and met her gaze briefly. Her lilac eyes were soft, and when she smiled, the purple tear-streak elven markings on her cheeks lifted and curled inward. Her moon-silver hair was still tied up messily and her bangs shielded the sides of her face.
She was pretty.
He’d told her that once, a long time ago. He wondered if she knew how much he had meant it.
–
“Please, leave me alone,” she had said, burying her face in her cloak. She sat perched on a fallen tree, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms crossed on top. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
He had ignored her plea and instead settled down beside her on the log, so close that their shoulders brushed. “I don’t care if you’re crying, I’m here with you” he told her with a smile, though she couldn’t see him with her head bowed into her arms. He placed a gentle hand on her arm, but she pushed him off, standing quickly. “I’m a mess,” she said, her voice fallen. He rose to his feet, too, coming to stand in front of her. “No, you’re not,” he told her. “It’s okay.”
“I’ve lost everything,” Rayla had snapped, her voice rising, tears welling in her eyes. “My parents. The people who cared about me… My home.” She turned away from him once more, walking a few paces away and coming to stop at the edge of the oasis. “There’s nowhere I belong now,” she managed to say, the tears finally pouring down her face.
“That’s not true, Rayla,” he argued, walking closer. “You’re going through a hard time, that’s all.” He tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but she pushed him away again.
“That’s not all! It’s me – and it’s all my fault!” She kicked a stone into the pond. “I failed them. I let them all down.” She clenched and unclenched her fists. She let her posture go, hunching her shoulders and looking down, utterly defeated. “They’re right to reject me,” she had said. She sat at the water’s edge, looking down at her reflection, exhausted and overwhelmed. “I’m not good enough, and I never will be.”
“Shut up!” Callum managed to say before she spoke again. He had come to stand behind her, and she met his eyes in the reflection of the water, before turning her head to face him directly. “Wait– what?” She had said, caught off-guard.
“Just shut up,” he repeated, “you’re talking crazy. Just – listen to me.” He changed his tone, speaking softer now. “You’re too good to feel this bad about yourself. I know that,” he took her hand and pulled her up to stand in front of him, “and you should know that.”
“You have true courage, and a big heart,” he had told her, looking directly into her eyes. Her face had been wet with tears and her mouth had been pulled tight in an attempt to hold back a sob, but she had never looked more beautiful. “I’ve seen you get knocked down so many times before, and every single time, you get up again. That’s real strength.”
She had seemed to soften a bit, so he continued. “And – you’re ten times funnier than any human I know,” he said truthfully, letting her hand go and crossing his arms playfully. She let out a laugh then, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “See?” He said, pointing at her. “See, you know you’re amazing.” He stepped closer and pulled the hood of her cloak down with both hands. “You’re smart, and fast, and beautiful.”
She smiled at him, her expression warm.
“Rayla, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” he had told her, entirely honest.
That was the first time she’d kissed him. It was delicate, and sweet, and perfect.
–
But that was a lifetime ago. Now, she had lost him. Now, he had lost her. And, now, the memory only brought him pain.
–
“We can go now,” Rayla said now, impatiently. Callum snapped back to the present and noticed her watching him intently. Her face was inches from his and her gaze bore into his very soul and he suddenly felt very, very exposed. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, instead focusing on his shoes.
“You disappeared there,” Rayla acknowledged quietly, her voice suddenly soft. That brought Callum’s focus back to her face. “Oh!” He started nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “Oh, sorry, yeah, I was just thinking.”
Her eyes were still on him. “About what?” she asked, cocking a delicate eyebrow.
“I just–” he paused, searching her gaze, trying to feel what was going on in her head, but he couldn’t, not anymore.
“I miss you,” he said, quickly, unintentionally.
She didn’t reply.
–
The inn provided breakfast, but not dinner, so when Rayla and Callum got to the room they’d secured for the night – simply furnished with a double bed, two end tables, and one armchair – they sat on the hardwood floor and ate dinner from the rations they’d packed. Bait and Stella were already fast asleep at the foot of the bed – a bed that neither Rayla or Callum had stood within three feet of yet.
Rayla had decided to, essentially, pretend as though nothing had happened. It was the easiest route to take considering the pair were about to spend the night together, and if she told Callum now that she missed him, too, it’d be messy and awkward, with emotions and questions, and she didn’t want that. She could handle this some other time, after their journey, when they weren’t stuck alone together at all hours and she’d have time to think.
So, instead of important talk, they made small talk.
“They really should offer dinner at this sorta place,” Rayla commented, picking at her meal. “Obviously hungry travellers are to be expected.”
Callum voiced his agreement. “You hear all about bed and breakfast, but no dinner!”
They snickered, but the humour died quickly.
“This is no good,” Callum said, pushing his food away. “Thankfully… Barius packed us a little extra treat for dessert!” He reached for his satchel and pulled out a small box. Inside were four jelly tarts; he took two and offered one to Rayla, before sealing the others away back inside the box. “Oh, that’s much better,” Rayla responded with a smile. She took the pastry gratefully, eating it in a couple of bites. “Sweet and sharp – I get why Ez likes them so much,” she said with a chuckle once she’d finished.
“I wonder what he’s doing now,” Callum murmured softly, his expression suddenly softer. His eyebrows were knit together and Rayla thought he suddenly looked much older than seventeen. Rayla frowned, and reached to place a hand over his. She knew how much he worried about Ezran. “Callum, Ezran is lucky to have you, but you can’t protect him from everything. He’s got other people in his corner, too, you aren’t supporting him alone.” She glanced out the window, which gave way to dark night. “Besides, I’m sure he’s fast asleep by now.”
Callum nodded. “You’re right, I should focus on other things right now,” he said, looking up to meet her gaze. It felt natural, comfortable, if only for a moment. The heat of Callum’s hand clasped in her own was familiar, and she searched his forest-green eyes for some sort of recognition. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “other things.”
“Like… bathing!” He said quickly, his voice rising. He pulled his hand out from under Rayla’s and stood quickly. Rayla watched him, eyebrows raised. She moved her hand back to her lap, uncomfortable.
“Yeah! I’m gonna go wash up, it’s really late,” he explained further, exiting quickly.
Okay, then.
–
Rayla bathed after Callum. When she returned from the washroom, drying her loose hair with a towel, Callum was curled up in the armchair with his legs hanging over the side, sketchbook in his lap and pen in hand. He was dressed comfortably, his hair had dried messy, and he seemed less stressed. She remembered long nights spent sitting together – he would draw, and she would busy herself with something just as an excuse to sit quietly near him. Now, when he looked up and smiled at her, carefree, she felt like melting.
It was a chilly night. She wore a sweater over her nightclothes. But when Callum looked at her like that, she felt raw and exposed. Innocent and vulnerable.
She sat on the floor beside the armchair and – like old times – busied herself, sharpening her blades with a whetstone.
They sat quietly for a while, but it wasn’t a nervous or awkward silence anymore. There was something different, now it was a peaceful, comfortable silence. Somewhere a switch had clicked, and so now, when Callum reached down and tapped her shoulder, she didn’t flinch, but merely glanced up at him.
“Whaddaya think?” He queried, holding out his sketchbook with one hand, supporting the spine so as not to crack it.
Rayla took a sharp breath upon seeing the open pages. “Oh. It’s me,” she observed, looking up at his face. His expression was sweet. Proud. She looked back down at the ink drawing of her, sitting cross-legged and serene and sharpening a blade. Wet hair and loose sweater and all, and yet Callum made her look beautiful. “It’s pretty,” she said after a moment. Callum returned the sketchbook to his lap, a satisfied look on his face.
Rayla yawned. “Well, um… we ought to sleep,” she said. Callum nodded. He shut the book and set it down on the floor beside the armchair, laying his pen neatly atop it. “You can take the bed,” he offered, “I’m comfortable here.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said, not exactly disappointed, but not exactly relieved. She took a moment to organise her things so she’d be ready to get up and go early tomorrow, before retiring to the double bed to sleep.
“Goodnight, Rayla.” Callum’s voice had come from across the room. He sounded sleepy and content.
“Goodnight, Callum.”
–
He wasn’t sure of the time, but he knew it was definitely not morning. The moon was still high in the sky when he peered through the gap in the curtains from his spot in the armchair. He’d woken abruptly, but wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t recall having any dreams.
Callum sat up straight with a yawn. His entire body ached from falling asleep curled up in the chair. He stretched his arms above his head for a few seconds. He was about to try to get back to sleep, when he heard Rayla’s voice.
“Callum?” She had asked, her voice hesitant. He froze. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He asked her. He could hear her shifting in the bed and a moment later saw her outline in the dark as she sat up fully. “No, it’s fine. I haven’t slept yet,” she admitted.
Callum didn’t reply with words.
Instead he stood and walked over, stumbling slightly in the dark until he reached the bed. He sat cautiously on the edge and placed a hand on Rayla’s shoulder. She looked at him, her eyes tired. “Are you alright?” He asked, quiet, patient. She shrugged.
“Rayla…” he began. “You deal with a lot. I acknowledge that.”
She nodded. He could barely make out her facial features in the dark.
“Are you scared?” He asked her, wondering if she was worried about the journey ahead of them.
“No," she replied, a scoff hiding in the word.
He waited a moment before trying again, thinking that he knew what might really be bothering her.
“Are you upset?”
Her gaze broke off from his and landed somewhere else in the dark. “Yes,” she replied slowly.
Callum sighed. “Me, too,” he told her quietly.
“I know.”
The silence between them seemed to drag out.
“Go back to sleep, Rayla,” Callum said after what seemed like an eternity. She obliged without word, settling back down on her side, facing away from him
He didn’t make the decision to move. He didn’t fully realise he was moving until he was laying, curled around her delicate form – him over the covers, her under. He rubbed her upper arm with one hand, nestling his chin in the crook of her neck. The comforter wasn’t thick so he could feel her tense up against him, but he could also feel her relax moments later. He thought he heard her sigh, but he wasn’t quite sure.
They laid like that for a while. Rayla was still, her breath even, and eventually Callum figured she’d fallen asleep. She smelled of wildflowers and starlight and her body was warm against his. He felt an overwhelming sadness, like how he’d felt when she had first left. His eyes and nose stung, threatening tears, but he withheld, sniffing sharply and shutting his eyes tight and focusing on his breathing.
He supposed Rayla had noticed, though, because she stirred in front of him. She turned, rolling awkwardly to face him. She took one of his hands in her own, holding it between their chests. “I should have said goodbye,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Callum replied. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, inches away from his own.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a crack in her voice.
“I know.”
She smiled gently, letting her eyes drift closed for a moment before looking back up at him. She didn’t release her hold on his hand. “Do you forgive me?” She asked.
He studied her expression. Her lips were pressed together slightly, worriedly. Her eyebrows were knit together. Her eyes told hushed secrets, stories of pain and regret and overwhelming emotion.
He couldn’t lie to her. He knew that. He couldn’t tell her anything but the pure truth.
“No. Not yet,” he said, and it hurt to say. The words were icy daggers in his throat and he felt Rayla wince.
“Okay,” she said, defeated.
“But I’m getting there.”
“Okay.”
He moved a hand to her lower back, holding her closer, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” he echoed, his voice so quiet it was almost silent. He rested his forehead against hers so that their noses brushed.
“Okay,” he heard her murmur one last time, as though the word meant something much more.
Then he let his eyes drift closed.