The Spiritfolk forest was quiet, save for the soft hum of life. Crickets chirped beneath the moonlight, and the great Spirit Tree's leaves shimmered with magic as Sam and Benjen sat beside a small campfire near the village's border.
The flames crackled gently, casting warm light on their faces—one youthful and elven, the other now beastlike with lupine ears and piercing gray eyes.
Benjen (quietly):
"I never thought I'd live to see a world like this."
Sam (soft chuckle):
"You died, remember? And yet here we are… alive. Different, but still us."
Benjen smiled faintly, the first time in days.
Benjen:
"I always thought death was the end. But this… this is something else. There's a reason we were brought here."
Sam:
"I've been thinking the same. Maybe we're meant to help Jon. Maybe we're meant to learn. To heal."
There was a silence between them, not awkward, but peaceful. The kind of silence old friends share when words aren't needed.
Benjen:
"You've changed, Sam."
Sam (surprised):
"Me?"
Benjen (nodding):
"You walk lighter. You speak with strength. You're not the timid steward I once knew."
Sam looked into the flames and thought of the Spirit Arts flowing through him. The gentle communion with nature. The confidence blooming within him.
Sam:
"Maybe… I'm finally becoming who I was meant to be."