A vendor shouted prices in his ear. A runaway rooster nearly tripped him. The crowd jostled and spun, and he allowed himself to drift with the madness like flotsam in a flood.
He stopped at a produce stall and stared blankly at the vegetables. Did he need carrots? Maybe. Garlic? Probably. Flour? He had no idea. Still, he found himself filling his arms with onions, tubers, anything to justify standing still. When the vendor handed him change, he almost forgot what he’d bought.
A trio of schoolgirls giggled as they passed. He heard his name whispered and pretended not to notice.
The square was overrun with color and noise—cloth banners snapping in the wind, bells clinking from a cart full of trinkets, someone loudly demonstrating a crank-operated grain mill. Every sound felt louder than necessary.
He rounded the bakery, caught a whiff of warm yeast and honey, and paused. He could buy a tart for Aries. A peace offering. Or maybe for himself. Something sweet to soften whatever conversation was waiting for him.
He didn’t move.
Instead, he stared into the crowd, eyes unfocused. Maybe Aries just wanted to talk. Maybe it wasn’t abouther. But deep down, he knew it was.
The road to the lake was muddy. Spring had finally arrived. The mountain’s white veil was lifting, giving way to a rich green sweep of new life.
Collin felt it in his chest—like a door cracking open after too many months in the dark. He had grown restless. The air was warming, the scent of thawed earth and fresh rain sweeping through the village like a promise.
But winter hadn’t left quietly. Some days brought sun, others rain, and nights still froze the thaw into glassy sheets of ice. The world couldn’t make up its mind, and neither could Collin.
He wanted to be outdoors, but every step turned up mud. He spent more time cleaning his boots than walking in them.Cabin fever had set in weeks ago—so bad, even Aries and Hadria seemed to be tiring of each other’s constant company.
Aries sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, his gray eyes staring across the dull lake. The clouds hung heavy above them, thick as wool. He didn’t turn when Collin approached—just called out without looking. “Took you long enough. How was class?”
“School was a mess.” Collin sat down stiffly beside him. “The students were feral today. I nearly lost it over a paint spill.”
“Sounds like you.”
They fell into silence. The wind skimmed the surface of the water. Geese flapped somewhere far off.
Collin leaned back on his hands. “So. What’s this about?”
Aries didn’t answer right away. He cleared his throat once. Twice. “I’ve been thinking about something. About you. And I didn’t want to say it in a note.”
That tone. Collin braced himself.
Aries hesitated. He rubbed the back of his neck, then let out a breath. “I think you should let Dragonfly go.”
The words didn’t hit immediately. They floated there, like fog.
“Excuse me?” Collin said.
“Just... think about it, alright? You’ve been carrying this around for months, and it’s eating you alive.”
Collin’s jaw clenched. “Is this coming from you? Or Hadria?”
“Come on—”
“No. Be honest. Did she put you up to this?”
“She didn’t put me up to anything. She’s just worried about you. We both are.”
“So now you both get to sit around and decide how long I’m allowed to feel things?”
Arie’s expression tightened. “No one’s deciding anything. We’re asking you to see what we see. You’re miserable, Collin. You haven’t been yourself since she left.”
“Because she meant something to me. I’m sorry that’s so inconvenient for everyone.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just... I don’t want to see you stuck. Waiting for someone who might not be waiting for you.”
