Same Day. The Column.
Aldric was laughing.
Really laughing—the kind that bent him double, brought tears to his eyes, made nearby soldiers stare like he'd lost his mind. He couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop.
It had started with a joke.
A stupid joke. The kind that wasn't even funny. Gunnar had told it during the midday rest—something about a farmer, a donkey, and a very confused priest. Aldric had heard it before, years ago, from his father.
But today, for some reason, it hit him differently.
Maybe it was the tension of the past days. The worry about Grog. The constant awareness of red eyes in the trees. The weight of everything pressing down.
Maybe his body just needed to release.
Whatever the reason, he laughed. And laughed. And couldn't stop.
Gunnar watched him with a mix of concern and amusement. "You okay there, boy?"
"I'm—" Gasp. "I'm fine—" More laughter. "It's just—"
"I know it's funny, but it's not that funny."
Aldric waved a hand. Tried to breathe. Failed.
Around them, other soldiers started grinning. Laughter was contagious—every soldier knew that. One person cracking up could turn a whole camp into chaos.
By the time Aldric finally caught his breath, a dozen people were smiling.
"Haven't laughed like that in—" He wiped his eyes. "I don't know how long."
Gunnar clapped his shoulder. "Good for you, boy. Good for you."
---
Lira found him an hour later, still grinning.
"You're in a good mood."
"I am."
"Any reason?"
Aldric considered. "Not really. Just—" He gestured vaguely at everything. "Alive. Sun's out. Marching's not terrible today. Gunnar told a stupid joke."
Lira raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"That's it."
She studied him for a moment. Then, slowly, smiled.
"Good," she said. "You've been too serious lately. We all have."
They walked together as the column resumed movement.
---
That afternoon, something strange happened.
A soldier started singing.
Not the usual marching songs—something softer. A lullaby, almost. About home and family and places far away.
Others joined in.
Not everyone. Just a few. Their voices blended, rough but warm, carrying across the column like a gift.
Aldric listened.
He didn't know the words. Didn't know the song. But something in it made his chest feel full.
Lira glanced at him. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you look like you're about to cry but also like you're happy."
Aldric blinked. "I don't—"
"You do. It's okay." She bumped his shoulder. "Happens to soldiers sometimes. Beauty hits you when you least expect it."
Beauty.
Was that what this was?
He listened to the singing. Felt the sun on his face. Looked at the people around him—ordinary people, scared people, people who kept walking even though they didn't know what waited ahead.
This, he thought. This is what we're fighting for.
Not survival. Not victory.
This.
---
They made camp early that evening.
Good terrain, the officers decided. Water nearby. Space to spread out. The column settled into its nightly routine with unusual ease—tents going up smoothly, fires catching quickly, soldiers moving with purpose instead of exhaustion.
Aldric helped with the tents. Then gathered firewood. Then sat by the flames, watching the world settle around him.
Gunnar found him again.
"Still smiling?"
"Apparently."
"Good. You should do it more." The older man sat heavily, groaning in the way of someone whose joints had marched too many miles. "This life—it'll eat you if you let it. You have to fight back."
"Fight back how?"
"Find reasons to smile. Even small ones. Especially small ones." Gunnar poked the fire with a stick. "A good meal. A warm fire. A stupid joke. They matter more than you think."
Aldric nodded slowly.
"My friend Grog says something similar. About the ordinary moments being what matters."
"Smart friend."
"Yeah." Aldric stared into the flames. "He's gone right now. Don't know when he'll be back."
Gunnar was quiet for a moment.
"That's hard," he said finally. "Waiting. Not knowing."
"It is."
"But you're still here. Still walking. Still smiling sometimes." He glanced at Aldric. "That's something."
Aldric considered this.
"Yeah," he said. "I guess it is."
---
Lira appeared at sunset, looking tired but satisfied.
"Good news," she said, dropping beside him. "Found fresh game trails ahead. Means we can hunt tomorrow. Real meat for a change."
Aldric's stomach growled at the thought.
"Also," she continued, "no sign of Vargr for at least another day. We're ahead of them. For now."
"That is good news."
"I know." She leaned back, stretching. "Almost makes up for the fact that our friend is wandering around in the woods somewhere."
Aldric smiled. "Almost."
They sat in comfortable silence as the fire crackled.
---
That night, around the main fire, something unexpected happened.
A group of soldiers started telling stories.
Not war stories—funny ones. Embarrassing ones. The kind that made people groan and laugh and throw things at the storyteller. Someone told about falling into a river during training. Someone else told about mistaking a cow for an enemy in the dark. A third told about a love letter that got delivered to the wrong person and started a feud that lasted three years.
Aldric listened. Laughed. Felt something loosen in his chest.
Gunnar was right. This mattered. Laughter. Connection. The ordinary moments that made life worth living.
He thought about Grog. About what he'd said that last night.
You're going to gather people around you. Good people. Family.
Looking at the fire, at the laughing faces, at Lira grinning beside him—he could almost see it. The shape of something forming. The beginning of what might become.
It felt like hope.
---
Later, after the fire burned low and soldiers drifted toward tents, Aldric sat alone with Lira.
Just the two of them. Small fire. Quiet night.
"He's okay," Lira said. Not a question.
Aldric looked at her. "You know that?"
"I know Grog. He's too stubborn to die in some forest." She poked the fire. "He'll come back. Probably with a story about how he saved three villages and fought a bear."
Aldric smiled. "Probably."
They sat in silence for a while.
"I missed this," Aldric said quietly.
"What?"
"Just... sitting. Not worrying. Not training. Just being." He looked at her. "When did life get so complicated?"
Lira considered. "Always was. We just didn't notice when we were kids."
"Yeah." He stared into the flames. "I wish we were still kids."
"No you don't."
He thought about it. About the thing inside him. About the choice waiting years in the future. About everything he knew now that he couldn't unknow.
"You're right," he said. "I don't."
They sat together until the fire burned low.
---
That night, Aldric dreamed.
Not of red eyes or dark forests or ancient things waiting.
He dreamed of home.
His father's farm. The way the light fell across the fields in late afternoon. The smell of bread baking. His mother's voice, calling him in for supper.
He stood in the dream, surrounded by everything he'd lost, and felt something he hadn't felt in years.
Peace.
Not happiness—peace. The quiet certainty that for this moment, in this place, everything was exactly as it should be.
He stayed there as long as he could.
When he woke, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
He lay still, holding onto the feeling.
Grog was right, he thought. The ordinary moments. They're what matter.
He smiled.
Just a little.
But it was real.
---
Mirena returned at midday.
Not Grog—just Mirena. She walked out of the trees like she'd never left, tired and dirty but whole.
Aldric saw her first.
Stopped mid-stride.
Stared.
She walked toward him like it was normal, like she hadn't been gone for days without explanation.
"You're back," he managed.
"Yes."
"Where's Grog?"
Mirena's face flickered. Just for a moment.
"Still out there. Doing what he needs to do." She paused. "I couldn't stay. Had to come back."
Aldric's heart hammered. "Why?"
She looked at him. At Lira, who'd appeared beside him. At the column moving past.
"Because I saw something," she said quietly. "Something you all need to know."
Her face was pale.
Whatever she'd seen, it had scared her.
Aldric felt the peace of the morning drain away.