A/N: Due to excessive character discussions with Kitten Kisses, I have now been bitten by the Haar/Jill bug again. Of course this particular fic doesn't even have Jill in it, but you know. It's implied. Random little fluff with some of my favorite characters! With my partners-in-crime Kitten Kisses and FireEdge, FFN will soon be flooded with Haar/Jill fic... muahaha...

Words: 1009
Characters: Haar, Mist
Time: Part III of Radiant Dawn
Genre: Friendship

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.

The gentle scribbling of his quill was something of a tonic to him, a pleasant break from the commotion outside his tent of the lively little mercenary band. They certainly were lively, he thought; this army was a drastic change of pace from his recent delivery days. With his tent illuminated by a single candle, Haar worked diligently but carefully. She had sent him a rather detailed letter just a few days ago, and by sound of it, he couldn't imagine she was enjoying herself all too much. He wanted to cheer her up a little, but without being foolishly optimistic; he did have to tell her he was mixed up in a war again, too.

"Excuse me? Sir Haar, are you awake?"

Of course, it was too much to hope that he would remain undisturbed for long. Mist's voice, accompanied by the smell of delicious cooking, reached him through his tent; his stomach gave a growl as he realized he had skipped supper.

"I'm awake. Come on in, Mist," Haar said, standing to open the tent flap. He was glad he did, for her hands were full to bursting with an assortment of dishes that were standard fare here, but would appear a feast to a soldier in any normal army. According Oscar and Mist, however, Haar had learned that delectable cooking was a must to keep up the strength and morale of every fighter, never mind the cost.

"You weren't at supper, so I brought you something," she said cheerfully. Her eyes fell on his parchment, ink, and quill. "Oh! Are you writing a letter to Jill?"

"How did you jump to that conclusion?" Haar asked, rather bemused.

Mist shrugged and nearly dropped a few dishes, struggling with their mass. Hurriedly she set them down as neatly as possible, then turned brightly back to Haar. "Well, who else would you be writing to?"

"I do have other acquaintances, you know."

"All right, then. Who else would you skip supper to write to?"

Haar could think of no response to this. He merely shrugged off her triumphant smile, plucked a piece of bread from the plates she had brought and devoured it in one bite, then picked up his quill again with his free hand.

"Can I read it?" Mist asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Did you miss a few lessons on manners, Mist?" Haar said, twitching the letter out of her sight.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I don't mean to pry – it's just – well, I miss her, too."

She looked so forlorn as she said it that Haar couldn't help but sigh and relent. He patted the floor of the tent beside him and passed Mist his letter and quill. "Would you like to write her something?"

"Really? You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

For a few minutes, the quill scratched hurriedly like a mouse scrabbling into a burrow. Then, in spite of herself, it seemed, Mist flipped over the letter and scanned Haar's writing, a small smile forming on her face as she did so. The sight made Haar feel slightly apprehensive.

"Wow, Haar, your letters are very neat," Mist said. "Ike's were always awful. Boyd didn't know his letters, so I tried to teach him, but he never made them very pretty, either. I thought all boys would be bad at letters, but yours are really good!"

"I had a good teacher," Haar said with a shrug. It was not a lie. Shiharam had been determined to produce a well-rounded soldier. Writing, he said, was often essential when one could not risk being overheard, and if your words were not legible, what use would it be at all?

She fell silent again; she seemed to be taking in the content of his letter now more than the individual words. "You know, Haar, you're really quite a nice person. Everybody else here thinks you don't care too much. But I think you really do. You just don't act like it all the time without Jill around! You know, I think you're - "

"You're free to think whatever you like," Haar interrupted, but he was not quite sure he halted her train of thought. "Keep your silly suspicions to yourself, Mist. I'm just writing a letter."

There was something both mischievous and understanding sparkling in her eyes. As she returned his letter, she smiled and rose to her feet, waving blithely in farewell. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me!" she said.

"What secret?" asked Haar, but she was already gone. Sighing, Haar took another piece of bread, this one with melted cheese and some kind of herb on the top, from the plate she brought. Mist's food was really quite good. Much better, he realized, than anything Jill would be getting, he was sure; mixed up in the Daein army, as large as it was, there was no way she was getting more than biscuits and salted meat. For a wild moment he wished he could send Jill some sort of treat along with his letter – but it was a foolish whim. They were miles away from each other, and nothing good and edible would still be good and edible after such an ordeal.

By the gradual dimming of the camp's furor around his tent, Haar could tell it was getting rather late. He set his letter aside and extinguished his candle, thinking it would be best to send the letter off in the morning.

When he woke at daybreak the next day, he found a small paper flower outside his tent. It was meticulously folded with very fine parchment, and it was lying on a small note with the same bubbly handwriting that was on the back of his letter.

Will you send this with the letter, please? I think you should say it's from you!

Mist

He couldn't help but smile a little. With great care, he placed the little flower inside the rolled parchment, hoping it wouldn't fall, but he didn't add a postscript to his letter. Jill could make of it whatever she wished.