By the second day on the road, the silence of the wilderness had begun replacing the familiar noise of village life. The forest had grown quieter the farther they traveled from the village. The roads of home had long since faded behind them, replaced by narrow trails winding between towering pines and ancient oaks whose roots twisted through the earth like veins beneath the world. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in scattered beams, painting the forest floor in shifting gold and shadow. Cade walked ahead with steady purpose, one hand resting near the handle of the black greatsword strapped across his back while Lyrica followed close behind, her eyes darting in every direction with restless curiosity.
For the first time since leaving home, she looked excited instead of nervous.
"Everything feels bigger out here," she admitted quietly, stepping over a fallen log. "Like the world just keeps going forever."
Cade glanced back at her, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "That's because it does. Villages make the world feel small. Roads remind you how large it really is."
Lyrica adjusted the small pack on her shoulders and hurried to catch up beside him. "Did you travel like this a lot during the war?"
The question lingered in the air for a moment before Cade answered. "More than I ever wanted to."
He kept his voice calm, but she noticed the subtle shift in his expression. It was the same distant look he sometimes carried whenever old memories clawed their way to the surface. She decided not to press further, and instead focused on the unfamiliar wilderness around them. Strange birdcalls echoed through the trees, and somewhere deeper in the woods came the sound of rushing water.
Cade slowed slightly. "Hear that?"
"The river?"
He nodded. "Good. Water means we stop before dark."
By the time they reached the riverbank, the sun had already begun its slow descent across the sky. The river itself was wide and clear, flowing over smooth stones that glimmered beneath the surface. Tall grass swayed along the shoreline while dragonflies skimmed across the water like living jewels. Lyrica stepped closer immediately, kneeling near the edge with wide-eyed fascination.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"It's useful," Cade corrected gently as he shrugged his pack from his shoulders. "Beauty's a bonus."
She laughed softly. "You always ruin the poetic moments."
"Somebody has to keep you alive."
The faint smile on his face made it clear he was joking, at least partly.
Cade quickly got to work setting camp with the practiced ease of a man who had spent years surviving outdoors. He showed her how to clear stones away from the fire pit and how to keep their bedrolls elevated from damp ground. Every movement was efficient, almost instinctive. Lyrica watched carefully, realizing more and more how much of the world her father understood beyond books and classrooms.
"You've done this a thousand times, haven't you?" she asked.
"Closer to ten thousand."
That answer carried no pride behind it. Only truth.
Once camp was prepared, Cade reached into his pack and pulled out two simple fishing spears. He handed one to Lyrica carefully before walking toward the river.
"Alright," he said, rolling his sleeves slightly. "Lesson one. If you can't buy food, grow food, or hunt food… you die. Simple as that."
Lyrica swallowed slightly before nodding.
Cade stepped into the shallow water first, motioning for her to follow. "Fishing's patience more than skill. Don't chase movement. Watch it. Learn it."
For nearly half an hour she missed every attempt. Fish darted away from her spear while Cade watched calmly nearby, occasionally correcting her footing or posture. Frustration slowly crept across her face until finally she groaned and lowered the spear.
"They're too fast."
"You're thinking too hard," Cade replied. "The river moves. The fish move. You move with them."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It will."
A few moments later, Cade suddenly struck downward with terrifying speed. Water splashed violently as he lifted a large silver fish clean from the river on the tip of his spear. Lyrica stared in amazement.
"You make that look unfair."
"Years of practice."
He tossed the fish gently onto shore before nodding toward the water again. "Try once more."
This time, Lyrica forced herself to breathe slower. Instead of attacking immediately, she watched the current carefully. A small fish drifted between the rocks near her feet. She waited.
Then struck.
The spear connected.
Her eyes widened instantly as she lifted the wriggling fish from the water. "I did it!"
Cade actually laughed—a genuine, warm laugh she hadn't heard nearly enough lately. "See? Told you."
But her excitement faded slightly as the fish struggled against the spear. The life inside it was real. Tangible. She looked at it uncertainly before lowering her spear slightly.
"It feels… strange."
Cade stepped beside her quietly. "Because it should."
He gently took the fish and ended its suffering quickly with a practiced motion. Lyrica watched silently.
"Life feeds life," Cade said after a moment. "That's true for animals, people, kingdoms… everything. Doesn't mean you enjoy taking life. Means you respect it."
Lyrica stared down at the river. "Does it ever get easier?"
Cade was silent for several long seconds.
"No," he answered quietly. "It only gets faster."
The honesty in his voice made her chest tighten.
As dusk settled across the forest, they cooked the fish over the fire together while the sounds of the wilderness echoed around them. Crickets hummed in the darkness while distant wolves called somewhere far beyond the trees. Lyrica sat wrapped in a blanket near the flames while Cade sharpened one of his smaller blades beside the firelight.
After a while, he stopped sharpening and motioned toward the treeline.
"Look carefully."
Lyrica followed his gaze just in time to see movement in the distance. A wolf emerged silently between the trees, lean and scarred, dragging the body of a hare between its jaws before vanishing back into the dark forest.
Lyrica frowned slightly. "Poor thing…"
"Maybe," Cade said calmly. "But now the wolf's cubs eat tonight."
She looked toward him. "So the world's just survival?"
"No." Cade shook his head slowly. "That's what separates people from beasts. Animals survive because they must. People choose what kind of lives they lead."
He tossed another branch into the fire, sparks swirling upward into the night sky.
"Some choose greed. Some choose cruelty. Some choose kindness. The world isn't divided between good people and evil people, Lyrica. It's divided between people who stop trying… and people who don't."
The firelight danced across the blackened edges of his armor resting nearby. For a moment, he looked less like a weary traveler and more like the shadow of the warrior he used to be.
Lyrica studied him quietly. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"It's the only thing I've ever truly believed."
Silence settled comfortably between them after that. Above the trees, countless stars stretched endlessly across the sky. Lyrica leaned back against her bedroll, exhaustion finally beginning to catch up with her.
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"I'm glad it's us together out here."
Cade looked toward her, the hardness in his expression softening instantly.
"Me too, kid."
For the first time since leaving the village, the road ahead did not feel quite so lonely.