Nicholas's grip on the jug tightened as the man's calm, almost amused demeanor sent a prickle of unease down his spine. Gwendolyn, still by the door, caught her brother's glance and gave a small nod. Without missing a beat, Nicholas took a small step back, turning his head toward the house. "Esmond," he called casually, his voice loud enough to carry. "Go tell Mom we've got company."
The little girl, who had been peeking from behind the curtain, hesitated for a moment before darting toward the kitchen.
The man watched her retreat with a faint smile. "Ah, siblings. Always looking out for one another." He took another sip from the jug, then looked back at Nicholas. "But you're wary of me. That's wise. Times like these, it's better to be cautious."
Nicholas folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, and times like these, people don't just stand around watching someone's house for no reason."
Gwendolyn stepped forward, unable to stay silent any longer. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "You mentioned rumors. Beasts and warriors. What exactly have you heard?"
The man chuckled softly, the sound low and deliberate. "Oh, just whispers from the road. People talk when they're afraid. They tell stories about towering creatures that leave footprints the size of boulders. About masked figures wielding weapons that gleam like stars." He paused, his sharp jawline visible beneath the hood. "And of course, the fabled Rangers. Protectors, some say. Menaces, say others."
Gwendolyn tensed, her mind racing. He knows too much. She kept her expression neutral, crossing her arms. "Fairy tales, or exaggerated stories" she said lightly, echoing Nicholas. "If there were really Rangers around here, don't you think someone would have seen them by now?"
The man tilted his head, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Perhaps. Or perhaps they're just very good at hiding."
Nicholas snorted, but his unease was clear. "You seem awfully interested in these fairy tales for a traveler."
The man raised the jug in a mock toast. "What can I say? Stories keep the road from feeling so lonely." He drank again, then lowered the jug with a thoughtful hum. "Of course, it's always fascinating to hear what people think of the Rangers. Some say they're heroes. Others… well, others claim they're tools of something greater. Like, say, the Hexagon."
At that, Gwendolyn's carefully maintained composure faltered. She stiffened, her breath catching for a split second before she forced herself to shrug. "What would the Hexagon be doing out here? This is the edge of nowhere."
The man's smirk widened. "Exactly. Isn't that the perfect place for secrets to hide?"
Gwendolyn's mind raced. Why would someone like him bring up the Hexagon here? Is he testing us? Or does he know more than he's letting on?
Nicholas, who had been watching the man like a hawk, stepped closer to Gwendolyn, lowering his voice. "This guy's trouble," he muttered under his breath.
She nodded slightly, her eyes never leaving the stranger. "I know," she whispered back.
Before either of them could say more, Esmond's small footsteps came thudding back into the room. "Mom says to ask him if he needs food too," she said, looking between her siblings and the man with wide, curious eyes.
The man chuckled, his gaze shifting to Esmond. "That's very kind of your mother, but water will suffice. I don't want to impose."
Gwendolyn's lips thinned. "You're already imposing."
The man gave her a long, measured look, the smirk fading from his face. "You're sharp," he said quietly, almost approvingly. Then he took a step back, holding the jug out toward Nicholas. "Thank you for the water. I'll be on my way."
Nicholas didn't take the jug. "Keep it. You'll need it more than we do."
The man nodded, a flicker of amusement returning to his eyes. "How generous." He turned on his heel and began walking back toward the road, his pace unhurried.
Gwendolyn watched him go, her muscles coiled like a spring. She waited until he was out of sight before letting out a slow breath.
Nicholas glanced at her. "You think he's coming back?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon, her hand brushing against her coat pocket where the Morpher rested.
"I don't know," she said finally. "But if he does, we'll be ready."
--
Gwendolyn lingered by the door long after the man had disappeared from sight, her thoughts swirling. Ambiguous threats were the worst kind—those that didn't reveal their purpose until it was too late.
Nicholas leaned against the doorframe beside her, arms crossed. "What do you think he was really after?"
"I don't know," Gwendolyn admitted, her voice low. "But he wasn't just some lost traveler. People don't talk about the Rangers or Hexagon in the same sentence without a reason."
Nicholas frowned, his gaze trailing down the empty dirt path. "What if he's connected to them? The cult, I mean."
Gwendolyn stiffened at the suggestion. "That's possible," she said after a pause. "But it could be something else entirely."
Behind them, Esmond peeked out, clutching the edge of her brother's shirt. "He seemed… weird," she murmured.
Gwendolyn turned and crouched to Esmond's level, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "It's okay. You don't need to worry about him."
"But what if he comes back?" Esmond's voice wavered.
"We'll handle it," Nicholas said firmly, offering a reassuring smile that he didn't quite feel.
Their mother stepped into the room, her sharp eyes darting between her children. "What's this about someone coming back?"
Nicholas glanced at Gwendolyn before speaking. "Just a traveler," he said quickly. "Asked for water and left."
Their mother's expression darkened. "Did you ask where he came from?"
"No," Gwendolyn said, her voice careful. "He didn't offer, and we didn't push. But he mentioned… stories. About Rangers and other things."
Their mother's jaw tightened, her hands clenching at her sides. "The less you entertain those types, the better," she said firmly. "We've lived quietly for a reason. Don't forget that."
"Yes, ma'am," Gwendolyn said, glancing at Nicholas, who nodded in agreement.
After their mother left, the siblings exchanged a look.
"You're going to the forge tomorrow, right?" Nicholas asked.
Gwendolyn nodded. "Yeah. Why?"
"Just… keep an eye out. If you hear anything about someone like him, let me know."
"And you do the same," Gwendolyn said.
Nicholas smirked faintly. "Always do."
--
After the encounter with the mysterious traveler, the siblings found themselves in a familiar routine. The evening passed quietly, and as the light dimmed outside, Nicholas casually asked, "Should we play cards?"
Gwendolyn glanced at him and, after a moment of thought, quietly agreed. "Sure."
The living room was quiet except for the shuffle of cards and the occasional tap of Nicholas's fingers against the table. After entertaining Esmond for a while with her toys, the little girl had nodded off, leaving the older siblings to fill the silence with a game of cards.
Nicholas dealt the next round with practiced ease, his brow furrowed in mock seriousness. "So, should we make this interesting? Loser does Esmond's chores tomorrow."
Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smirk. "Confident, aren't you?"
"I'm just realistic," Nicholas replied, leaning back in his chair. "You're terrible at bluffing."
"That's because I don't need to bluff," Gwendolyn shot back, tossing a card onto the table with casual precision.
They played in silence for a few moments before Nicholas broke it. "Do you think he'll come back?" he asked, his tone deliberately light, though his question carried weight.
Gwendolyn didn't answer right away. She stared at her cards, her mind drifting back to the hooded man's cryptic words and the way he had laughed at her mention of the Rangers. Finally, she sighed. "Maybe. People like that don't just disappear. They leave breadcrumbs."
Nicholas nodded, tapping his fingers against the table. "I don't like it."
"Neither do I." She glanced at him, then back at her cards. "But worrying won't help. If he's trouble, we'll deal with it when the time comes."
"Right," Nicholas muttered, though his expression remained tense.
The silence stretched between them, only broken by the sound of cards being placed on the table. Gwendolyn couldn't shake the feeling that this quiet moment was a fragile thing, ready to shatter at the slightest disturbance.
"You're quiet," Nicholas said suddenly, his voice cutting through her thoughts.
"So are you," Gwendolyn countered without looking up.
"Yeah, but you're usually better at pretending everything's fine."
She looked at him sharply, but there was no mockery in his gaze, only curiosity. "Just tired," she said after a moment. "It's been… a lot."
Nicholas nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah, I get that."
For a while, they didn't speak, the rhythm of the game filling the silence. Then, as Nicholas slapped his final card onto the table with a victorious grin, he leaned back and stretched.
"And that," he declared, "is how you win."
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, tossing her cards down in defeat. "Beginner's luck."
"Hardly. Guess you're doing Esmond's chores tomorrow."
"Guess again," she said, standing and ruffling his hair as she walked past. "I'm not that generous."
Nicholas swatted her hand away with a laugh, watching as she headed toward the window. She paused there, staring out into the darkness, her expression unreadable.
"Hey," he said softly, drawing her attention. "We'll be fine. Whatever happens, we'll handle it."
Gwendolyn turned to look at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I know," she said, though her thoughts were far away.
For now, the morningwas quiet, but the weight of uncertainty lingered between them, unspoken but understood.
--
The morning air was crisp, sunlight spilling through the cracks in the shutters. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and sighed. "We don't have any work today, do we?"
"No," Gwendolyn replied, absently tracing a finger along the worn wood of the table. "Which means we're going to be bored out of our minds."
He drummed his fingers on the table, then glanced toward her. "Wanna go to town? Buy some food?"
She shrugged but gave a small nod. "Might as well. Better than sitting around."
With that settled, they rose from the table and made their way to their mother, who was sitting by the window with a cup of tea in her hands. She glanced at them as they approached, her gaze questioning.
"Can we head to town?" Nicholas asked, folding his arms. "We'll pick up food while we're there."
Their mother raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip before replying. "Fine. But when you get back, you're both doing the dishes and your chores. No arguments."
"Deal," Gwendolyn said quickly before Nicholas could grumble.
Their mother gave a slight smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't waste money on nonsense, and be back before sundown."
With their mother's approval, they grabbed their coats—Gwendolyn nudging Nicholas to remember his, earning an exaggerated groan—and headed out the door.
The town wasn't far, but the walk felt longer than usual with nothing pressing to occupy their minds. The siblings moved in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling filling the air.
"You think it'll be crowded?" Nicholas asked, kicking a loose pebble along the dirt road.
"Probably," Gwendolyn replied. "Market days usually are."
He sighed. "Great. Just what I wanted—people shoving past us while we're trying to figure out if the carrots are worth it."
She smirked. "Don't worry, Nick. I'll make sure we don't spend all day arguing over vegetables."
"Yeah, right," he muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
As they reached the edge of the town, the familiar hum of activity greeted them. Merchants called out their wares, carts rattled over cobblestones, and the air was filled with the scents of baked bread, spices, and freshly picked produce.
"Let's get this over with," Nicholas said, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.
"Relax," Gwendolyn said, nudging him. "It's not the end of the world."
They wandered through the market, their earlier boredom replaced by the task at hand. Gwendolyn inspected fruits with a practiced eye, while Nicholas focused on finding the best deals for bread and meat.
As they walked through the bustling market, their voices were drowned out by the noise of merchants shouting and townsfolk haggling. It gave them a sense of privacy, even in the crowded streets. Nicholas adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder, his brow furrowed in thought.
"So, what do you think about that guy from earlier?" he asked casually, though his tone held a hint of suspicion.
Gwendolyn, who had been scanning a stall of apples as they passed, glanced at him. "I think he was hiding something. But I don't know what."
Nicholas nodded. "Yeah, same. But, you're a ranger. You've probably dealt with people like him before."
Her steps faltered, just slightly, before she continued walking. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I mean, you probably know how to handle shady people, right? You've been in danger before. You've probably never failed at stuff like this."
Gwendolyn's jaw tightened. She kept her gaze straight ahead. "It's not that simple, Nick."
Nicholas didn't seem to notice her tone. "I don't know. You're always so… sure of yourself. Like, you must've trained for years to be a ranger. They wouldn't pick you otherwise. You've probably had to make some hard calls, right?"
Her stomach turned, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. "Hard calls?"
"Yeah, like… I don't know." He hesitated, then looked at her with a curious, almost probing expression. "Have you ever had to, you know… kill someone?"
Gwendolyn froze mid-step, the weight of his words crashing into her like a physical blow. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the bustling market around her faded into the background.
The memory came unbidden, sharp and cold. Zhong's face—his expression, his eyes—when it happened dark, silent, and watching. When she had to do it. Feathers. Feathers. It was his last name, and yet it clung to her mind as though it defined him, defined her.
Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She forced herself to breathe, to swallow the lump in her throat. "Why would you even ask that?" Her voice was tight, controlled, but the edges wavered.
Nicholas blinked, surprised by her sudden shift in tone. "I didn't mean— I mean, you don't have to answer. I just figured—"
"You figured what?" she snapped, cutting him off. "That because I'm a ranger, that's all there is to me? That I'm just someone who fights and wins and makes 'hard calls' like it's nothing? You think you know everything about me now?"
"I didn't say that," Nicholas said defensively, though his voice softened. "I just… I thought you'd be used to this kind of stuff."
Her eyes burned, but she refused to let them well up. "Well, I'm not. And maybe you should stop assuming things about me just because of this." She gestured vaguely, as though the word ranger was too much to even say out loud.
They walked in tense silence for a while, the noise of the market doing little to ease the weight between them. Nicholas opened his mouth a few times as if to say something, but each time, he closed it again.
Finally, Gwendolyn sighed, her voice quieter now. "You don't get it, Nick. Being a ranger… it's not who I am. It's just something I have to do. And it's not as easy as you think."
He hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. "I wasn't trying to make it sound easy. I just thought… I don't know. I thought I could understand."
She shook her head. "You can't. And that's fine. But don't act like you know me just because I told you the truth about being a ranger. You don't know half of what it's like."
Nicholas was silent, his gaze fixed on the cobblestones beneath his feet. Gwendolyn's mind, however, was spinning. She fought to push the memory away—Zhong's face, his name, the way he looked at her when it happened. She couldn't think about it. Not now. Not here.
"Let's just get the rest of the food and go home," she said finally, her voice sharp but steady.
Nicholas glanced at her but didn't argue. "Yeah. Sure."
The rest of the trip was quieter, but the tension lingered between them like a storm cloud. Gwendolyn did her best to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts remained haunted by things she wished she could forget.
--
They walked in strained silence for several more minutes, the clamor of the marketplace filling the void between them. Gwendolyn focused on the stalls ahead, her hands gripping the strap of her bag tightly, trying to anchor herself in the present. But Nicholas's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Gwen," he said softly, almost hesitantly.
She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on a vendor selling freshly baked bread. "What?"
"I… I'm sorry," he said, his voice unusually sincere. "For what I said earlier. About you being a ranger. I wasn't trying to— I just…" He trailed off, searching for the right words.
She stopped walking, finally turning to face him. Her eyes narrowed slightly, still guarded. "You just what?"
Nicholas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I assumed things. About you. About what it's like. And that wasn't fair. I don't know what you've been through, and I shouldn't have acted like I did."
Her expression softened slightly, but she stayed silent, letting him continue.
"I think… I think I said all that stuff because I wanted to make sense of it," he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground. "You being a ranger—it's such a big deal, you know? And I thought maybe if I understood it, it wouldn't feel so… overwhelming. But that doesn't mean I can just reduce you to… to that. You're my sister, Gwen. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like you're not."
Gwendolyn blinked, taken aback by the raw honesty in his voice. For a moment, she didn't know what to say. She crossed her arms, studying him closely. "You really mean that?"
He nodded firmly. "Yeah. I do. I was wrong, and I shouldn't have put all that on you. You've got enough to deal with already."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. Finally, she sighed, her posture relaxing just a little. "Thanks, Nick. I… appreciate that. And I get it. It's a lot for both of us."
He smiled faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing. "So, we good?"
She smirked, a spark of her usual humor returning. "You're still doing the dishes tonight."
Nicholas laughed, rolling his eyes. "Fair enough. I deserve that."
As they resumed walking, the heaviness between them seemed to lift, replaced by a more comfortable silence. For the first time in a while, Gwendolyn felt like they might actually be okay—at least for now.
--
They argued briefly over how much to spend on sweets, but Gwendolyn eventually relented, allowing Nicholas to grab a small bag of honey-dipped biscuits.
By the time they finished, their bag was full, and the sun was climbing higher in the sky. Nicholas stretched, glancing at their haul. "Not bad. We might actually eat decently for once."
"You mean I won't have to hear you complain about bland food for a week?" Gwendolyn teased.
"Don't push it," he shot back, though he couldn't hide his grin.
With their errands complete, they began the walk back home, the weight of their purchases balanced between them. The afternoon stretched ahead, and while chores awaited them, for now, the simplicity of the moment was enough.
--
The sky darkened, and the distant hoot of an owl signaled the night's arrival.
The playful moments from earlier dissolved into quiet focus as Gwendolyn and Nicholas worked side by side, washing dishes after dinner. Gwendolyn glanced at their mother, who sat at the table with a steaming cup of tea. Her gaze was fixed out the window, her expression unreadable.
The playful moment of the games faded into silence as they worked doing the dishes for the night. Gwendolyn glanced at their mother, who was sitting at the table, her hands resting on a cup of tea. She stared out the window, her expression unreadable.
Nicholas noticed too. "Do you think she's okay?" he asked quietly.
"She's… managing," Gwendolyn said, choosing her words carefully. "We all are."
After eating dinner(Same thing as lunch), we had to do the dishes again thanks mom.
Nicholas nodded, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the sink. "Sometimes it feels like everything changed after Father. Like we're all trying to figure out who we're supposed to be now."
Gwendolyn paused, her hands stilling in the soapy water. She wanted to tell him he was right, that she felt the same way. But instead, she forced a smile and nudged him with her elbow.
"You're supposed to be the one who messes up the dishes," she teased.
He rolled his eyes but smiled back. "And you're supposed to be the one who fixes them. Balance, right?"
Their laughter filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it felt like things hadn't changed at all.
Once the dishes were done, Gwendolyn wiped her hands on a towel and leaned against the counter, watching Nicholas dry the last plate. Esmond had wandered off somewhere, likely to pester their mother or get into mischief.
"I think I'll head to the workshop later," Nicholas said, breaking the silence. "There's a lot of wood that needs chopping."
Gwendolyn nodded. "I'll probably check in with Master Hargrove. See if he needs anything at the forge."
"Don't overdo it," Nicholas said, giving her a pointed look. "You're always working too hard."
She smirked. "Look who's talking."
Nicholas grinned but didn't argue.
As he stepped away to put the dishes away, Gwendolyn found herself glancing toward the door. The urge to check in at Dino Hedge was growing stronger. Zhong and Tsuyen were probably fine, but it had been a while since she'd seen them. The cult's silence was unsettling, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Esmond's voice calling from the other room.
"Gwen! Nick! Come play with me!"
Nicholas groaned. "I thought we were done being summoned."
Gwendolyn chuckled, pushing herself off the counter. "Looks like you're not off the hook yet."
Together, they headed toward the living room, where Esmond was waiting with a mischievous grin and a pile of toys. For now, the worries of the outside world could wait. At least for a little while.
--
As they walked into the living room, Esmond beamed at them, holding up a small carved wooden figure in one hand and a handful of colorful stones in the other. "We're playing knights and dragons!" he announced, his excitement radiating.
"Knights and dragons, huh?" Nicholas crouched down, examining the toys with exaggerated seriousness. "Let me guess—Gwen's the dragon?"
Esmond giggled, shaking his head. "No, Gwen's the knight! You're the dragon."
Gwendolyn smirked, folding her arms. "Seems accurate."
Nicholas rolled his eyes but let out a mock growl, picking up a blanket and draping it over his shoulders like wings. "Fine. But don't expect me to go easy on you."
Esmond squealed with delight and began setting up a makeshift battlefield with his toys while Nicholas crawled on all fours, pretending to be a fearsome dragon. Gwendolyn grabbed a broomstick from the corner, holding it like a lance.
"You're going down, beast!" she declared dramatically, pointing the broomstick at Nicholas.
"Not today, brave knight!" Nicholas retorted, letting out another playful roar and swiping at her with the blanket.
Esmond's laughter echoed through the room as the three of them became engrossed in their impromptu game. For a little while, the weight of the day's events faded, replaced by the simplicity of shared joy.
Eventually, their mother appeared in the doorway, her cup of tea still in hand. She leaned against the frame, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched them.
It was rare to see all three of her children laughing together like this.
she treasured the sight.