I unfolded it carefully. It was far more detailed than anything standard, not just paths and elevation but a carefully constructed version of the site. Certain areas were highlighted and beside them were small annotations that did not describe the land so much as how it might suit me.
Better light here in the afternoon. I think April would prefer that
Less exposed section, easier to remain still here.
Quieter stretch, fewer interruptions from movement or sound.
I didn't look at him right away, keeping my focus on the map instead. There was something oddly reassuring about it, almost sweet in a quiet unfamiliar way. He shifted back slightly and left the map entirely in my hands.
We kept walking and he kept talking, his thoughts wandering so naturally from one subject to another that I stopped trying to predict where he would go next. At some point I found myself giggling despite myself, shaking my head as he continued his strangely serious analysis of completely ordinary things.
"There's a universal moment where you wave back at someone who wasn't waving at you and suddenly your entire ancestry feels embarrassed."
A few minutes later he added, completely unprompted,"There should be a socially acceptable number of times to replay an embarrassing memory before your brain is legally required to let it go."
"I think we all dramatically overestimate how often other people are thinking about us. Most people are too busy wondering if they sounded weird three hours ago."
"I think humanity is fascinating because we are simultaneously incredibly intelligent and deeply ridiculous. Someone looked at a potato once and somehow turned it into fourteen different foods, yet we also invented alarms and collectively agreed to wake up angry every morning for the rest of our lives."
I actually snorted at that and covered my mouth quickly, which only seemed to encourage him.
"The human body is unbelievable too. You can survive heartbreak, illness, emotional trauma, but sit slightly wrong once and suddenly your neck stops functioning for three business days."
He stopped when I stopped because I found the place very beautiful. He set his bag down and took out food and drinks. Strangely enough, we ate without much conversation
After a while, when the silence had settled into something comfortable, I reached into my bag and took out a book. I held it out to him without explanation. He looked at it, then at me, a brief flicker of confusion passing through his expression before it softened into something almost amused.
"This is an unusual method of repayment," he said. "I was not aware we had reached the exchange phase of the outing."
I shook my head slightly.
"Read..for me, please." I said.
He paused for a moment longer, as if recalibrating the situation, then a small smile formed, quiet and unforced, the kind that appeared before he fully decided to allow it.
"As you wish, guardian of moss and branches," he said.
He took the book and started reading, his voice altered the space without disrupting it. It was steady and low, unembellished but not flat, each sentence shaped clearly as it left him, carrying through the clearing without effort. It did not push against the silence so much as move with it, and after a moment I found myself sitting more fully, letting my shoulders ease, the tension I had been holding without noticing beginning to loosen as I listened.
I stretched out against the ground, the stone beneath me still carrying the last traces of warmth from the day, and closed my eyes while he kept talking. The steady rhythm of his voice remained strangely soothing.
Chapter 24: Until Yours Returns
Bramwell: I have been instructed by several civic entities to invite you somewhere against your natural instincts.
Me: No.
Bramwell:Strong opening. Unfortunately incomplete.
Bramwell:County wildfire preparedness fundraiser next Friday. Cross-department event. Rangers, fire services,emergency response, environmental planning, geological survey. Mildly terrible canapés expected.
I read the messages twice before setting my phone face down on the desk and closing my eyes. The county held one every year before peak season, a formal gathering meant to bring departments together before the months became harder. Rangers, fire crews, search and rescue teams, and local officials were all expected to attend. It meant speeches, donors, photographs, and crowded rooms filled with people trying to appear more relaxed than they actually were.
It also meant firefighters, which meant Ellis.
By the time I got home, the old heaviness had already settled over me. It was never only Ellis that made me avoid those rooms. It was the noise, the lights, the awareness of being looked at, the strange expectation that women should appear effortless while feeling anything but.
There was a knock not long after sunset. Bramwell stood outside with a paper bag tucked beneath one arm and the expression of a man who had arrived prepared for resistance.
