Once the tension in the room had eased, Mika's expression shifted.
The warmth in his smile remained, but something else lingered beneath it—something quieter, harder to ignore.
Worry.
"Ere," he said, folding his arms, "what happened out there after you lured it away?"
His voice was calm, controlled, but the strain beneath it was unmistakable.
"It took us time to gather our strenght. By the time we reached you… the bear was already dead."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"You were unconscious. Under its body."
A brief pause.
"Was that really your doing?"
Janna didn't turn. She stood by the table, washing dishes in slow, steady motions, but her hands had stilled just enough to give her away.
She was listening.
Ere felt it.
For a moment, he considered telling them—about the dagger, about what had really happened. But now that it had returned to its original form, the truth would sound impossible. And more than that… it felt like something that should remain his for now.
So he chose something else.
Not a lie.
Just less.
"The bear was already weakened," he said.
Mika's eyes remained on him.
"The wound you gave it—its leg. It slowed it down."
Ere lowered his gaze slightly.
"I kept striking there… until it bled out."
Silence settled over the room. Neither of them pressed further. Because in the end, the details didn't matter as much as one thing—He had come back alive—that was enough.
Mika let out a slow breath, then straightened.
"Well… it's time to ground you."
Janna turned immediately.
"What? He just got back—and he's safe."
Her voice tightened, protective.
"He clearly understands what he did."
Mika shook his head.
"No. This matters."
Then he looked at Ere.
"I spoke with the villagers."
A slow, measured smile formed.
"They were impressed by what you did."
Ere said nothing.
"I got their approval," Mika continued, "to take you with us on the next hunt."
For a moment, the words didn't register.
Even Janna froze.
"What do you mean, Mika?" she said, her voice rising. "We never agreed to that. How is that a punishment?"
She stepped forward, pointing toward Ere.
"Look at him. His eyes are shining. I am not sending my child into that forest."
Mika let out a quiet laugh.
"Janna… he's grown. He's stronger now. And the sooner he learns, the safer he becomes."
His tone softened.
"We can't keep him here forever."
Janna crossed her arms, her expression hardening.
"He can stay here forever."
Her voice lowered, quieter now.
"I still remember when he was a baby… those calm eyes…"
Ere listened.
For once, the urge to interrupt slipped through.
"When do we go?"
They both looked at him.
Mika laughed—louder this time.
"See? You can't stop us now."
He shook his head.
"Not this week. That bear you took down will feed the village for days."
He gestured toward the window, then paused.
"Besides… there's a festival coming."
Ere's gaze lifted slightly.
"A spring festival. We hold it every year. Last year… we couldn't. But this time, it will happen."
"There will be people from other villages. From across the eastern lands."
"Our village is the furthest east, so they'll all stay here. For two days. Safer that way."
His eyes met Ere's.
"It'll be your first time meeting anyone from outside."
"And you'll help us prepare."
Silence followed.
Ere's thoughts drifted.
There was too much he didn't know. Too many gaps. Too many unanswered questions—about the world, about the kingdoms, about everything beyond the forest.
This village…
was all he had ever seen.
It was an opportunity—not just to observe, but to understand. Perhaps some of them had already awakened magic. If so, he would see it. Study it. Understand it.
He looked back at them.
"Alright. I'll help."
A small pause.
"I'm… looking forward to it."
The words came out flat, as always.
But Mika didn't seem to mind. He laughed and placed a hand on Ere's shoulder.
"That's the spirit. You'll see—it's not just about surviving out here. Life… it can be good."
Janna smiled, warm and soft, her hand brushing lightly against Ere's.
"We'll get everything ready," she said. "And we'll be right here with you."
"There will be other children too. They'll want to meet you. To play."
Ere didn't respond.
He turned slightly toward the window.
Beyond it, the forest stretched out—still, quiet, unchanged.
Inside, something had already settled.
This wasn't about meeting people.
Or playing.
This was a chance.
And he would not waste it.