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After a long day of hunting, Kinich settled by the campfire, repairing his weapon. His hands were covered in small burns and cuts—the result of haste and the hot flames. The sun was setting, casting a soft orange light over the camp. Сitalali, passing by, immediately noticed his slightly tense posture and the injuries on his hands.
“Burned yourself again?” she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Her voice was stern, but with a hint of concern.
“Big deal,” Kinich muttered, not taking his eyes off the sword. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” the girl stepped closer, squatting down beside him. “Let’s take a closer look at this ‘nothing.’”
She pulled a small jar of white ointment from her bag, glowing softly with moonlight, and began carefully applying it to his burns. The boy flinched slightly, but did not pull her hand away.
“You… shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured, turning away shyly.
“I should,” Сitalali smirked, lightly touching his skin. “Your energy balance is more important than your ego.”
He tried to smile, but the words got stuck in his throat. No one had ever cared for him like this without expecting something in return.
“You always… care so strangely,” he finally said, carefully holding her hand in his, as if checking whether it would disappear.
“Strangely?” she asked. “Maybe I just know how to see what really matters.”
He nodded silently, feeling the warmth of her touch. At that moment, the sun had completely dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft orange-pink glow. A gentle breeze carried the scent of herbs mixed with the smoke from the fire.
“You know…” he said quietly, looking at her, “even burns feel lighter with you around.”
“Maybe it’s not the ointment, Kinich. Maybe it’s just your sunny hands, used to not burning anyone but yourself,” Сitalali said with a small smile, carefully putting the jar away.
He looked at her, and for the first time in a long while, his shoulders relaxed. There was something between them beyond words: gentle warmth, trust, and the feeling that even after the hardest days, there could be a moment of peace and light. The fire crackled, the wind rustled the leaves, and they sat together, like the sun and moon finding each other in this quiet corner of Natlan.
Night fully fell over the camp. The fire glowed a soft orange, its reflections dancing on Kinich and Citalali’s faces. A light breeze carried the aroma of herbs and smoke, creating the impression that the whole world had paused around them. She sat beside him, resting against his arm, quietly watching the embers. He was silent at first, lost in thought, then leaned slightly toward her.
“Thank you…” he said softly, a little nervously. “For being here.”
Сitalali looked up at him, a gentle smile flickering in her eyes.
“For what?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.
“For this…” he stepped closer, cautiously taking her by the shoulder and lightly brushing his lips against her cheek. A light kiss, almost weightless, yet full of warmth and gratitude. “For caring… even when I try to act strong.”
“You… are sometimes too straightforward,” she whispered. “But… it’s nice when someone notices you.”
“I don’t know how to speak beautifully, but… it’s easier to be myself with you,” he smiled, slightly embarrassed, yet sincerity shone in his eyes.
She gently leaned on his shoulder, and they sat like that for a long time, listening to the crackling fire, the rustling leaves, and the occasional night sounds. At that moment, no words were needed—there was enough warmth, trust, and quiet understanding that there was someone beside them with whom they could truly be themselves. The sun had long since disappeared, but in their world, the moonlight and the fire’s warmth blended together, leaving a feeling of peace and comfort, as if even the night was smiling upon them.