The days passed in a soft rhythm beneath the spiritfolk sky. With every dawn, Sam found his heart a little fuller. Training in spirit arts came naturally now—his affinity with wind and light magic blossoming. But no spell, no lesson, thrilled him more than time with Ren.
Ren remained her usual self—sharp-tongued and distant on the surface—but Sam had come to read her unspoken language: how she lingered just a few seconds longer when brushing past him, how she brought him his favorite spiritfruit without a word, how her ears twitched whenever someone else tried to speak to him.
One afternoon, after sparring at the training grounds, Ren sat beneath a cherry blossom tree, wiping sweat from her brow. Sam approached, offering her a waterskin with a nervous smile.
Sam:
"You fight like a storm today."
Ren (raising an eyebrow):
"And you still got knocked on your back, storm boy."
She took the waterskin, drinking without breaking eye contact. A beat of silence passed.
Sam (murmuring):
"I think I like being knocked down by you… it means I get to look up at the most beautiful face in the village."
Ren choked slightly on her drink, coughing as she turned away, her ears burning red.
Ren (flustered):
"D-Don't go saying dumb things like that!"
Sam (smiling):
"Can't help it. It's the truth."
Ren turned to face him, hazel eyes softening beneath her violet fringe. The warm breeze scattered a flurry of petals around them.
Ren:
"Why me, Sam? You could have anyone… even some elven noble with magic and poise."
Sam (firmly):
"Because you're you. Because even when you're angry, or sarcastic, or pretending not to care—you still show up. You still protect. You still smile, even when it's hard."
She didn't reply right away. Instead, she scooted closer, resting her head gently on his shoulder.
Ren (quietly):
"...You're such an idiot."
Sam (smiling wide):
"Yeah, but I'm your idiot now, right?"