She's a Nice Person

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” Furielle said, ruffling the little boy’s hair.

“Don’t take too long!” He frowned.

“Be careful…” the little girl pleaded timidly.

“Of course! I’m the most careful person there is!”

And with that, Furielle set off with Flint’s ragtag crew toward Bell Village.

𓌏

The road toward Bell Village stretched peacefully through forests and rolling hills. Traveling with one extra companion turned out to be considerably livelier than Flint had expected.

Murry had been loud from the very beginning. Furielle, however, seemed determined to compete with him.

“Flint!”

She suddenly skidded to a stop beside the road before crouching dramatically over a patch of grass.

“Look!”

Flint wandered over, squinting to where she pointed.

“It’s a mushroom.”

“It is not just a mushroom!” she protested. “This one’s edible!”

She proudly held it up between two fingers as though she’d uncovered buried treasure.

“Think we can cook it tonight?”

Flint’s eyes glinted in newfound enthusiasm.

“We should definitely do that.”

Behind them, Murry sighed.

“Kid. Don’t encourage her.”

And the mushrooms were only the beginning.

Furielle also possessed a remarkable talent for becoming fascinated by absolutely anything.

“Woah~”

She walked in a slow circle around Ludmilla, whose luggage drifted serenely through the air behind her, suspended by glowing glyphs sketched in enchanted chalk.

“You’ve been making your bags float this entire time?”

“…Naturally.”

“You could’ve done that yesterday?!”

“…Naturally.”

Furielle pointed accusingly at the floating crate.

“That’s… cheating!”

“It is called efficient mana allocation.”

Before long, even the others began adjusting to Furielle’s restless pace. Whenever the road split, she was already halfway up a tree trying to see which path looked the safest.

Or sometimes the most interesting.

Whenever they stopped to rest, she’d somehow disappear only to come sprinting back a few minutes later with an armful of berries, flowers or completely useless rocks she’d decided looked interesting.

“This one’s shaped like a boot!”

“It really is.” Isla admitted.

“I know!”

“Why did you pick it up?”

“…I don’t know!”

By the third day, even Murry had stopped asking where she’d gone.

“She’ll be back.”

“…You sound awfully confident.” Ludmilla observed.

“She always comes back.”

Almost on cue…

“FOUND MUSHROOMS!”

“Told you so.” Murry sighed, whereas Isla smiled instead.

“I think it’s refreshing.”

“I believe she’s just a very high energy individual.” Ludmilla admitted making Flint smile.

“She’s a nice person.”

Without anyone consciously deciding it, the distance between them gradually disappeared. Flint and Isla still walked side by side, Murry still grumbled whenever the road climbed uphill, and Ludmilla still planned out the most optimal plan for the day. Furielle simply filled every silence she could find.

Somehow, it suited them.

𓌏

The five gathered around a modest campfire tucked beneath the shelter of a large oak. Dinner proved surprisingly successful, thanks in no small part to Furielle’s mushroom discoveries.

“I told you.” She proudly folded her arms.

Flint nodded as he swallowed another bite.

“They’re really good! They make the broth richer and more savory!”

“I know!”

“They’re still just mushrooms.” Murry grumbled.

“They’re delicious mushrooms.” Furielle corrected.

Ludmilla quietly closed the book resting in her lap.

“I believe today’s debate has reached its intellectual limit.”

The camp gradually fell silent as everyone settled in for the night. Murry rolled himself into his blanket and was snoring within seconds, while Ludmilla carefully stacked her floating books beside her pack before extinguishing the glyph supporting them. Isla whispered her evening prayer beneath the stars as Flint added another branch to the fire and finally lay back against his bedroll.

“…Goodnight.”

A chorus of sleepy replies answered him.

“…Night.”

“…Goodnight.”

“…Nighty night.”

The fire crackled softly.

Some time later, Flint’s eyes slowly opened to find only a handful of glowing embers remaining. He quietly reached for another log, but as he leaned forward, a small light caught his attention.

A lantern glowed a short distance away, illuminating Furielle curled beneath her blanket with a book open in her hands.

Flint blinked.

“…Can’t sleep?”

She jumped slightly before laughing.

“Oh!”

She scratched her cheek, trying to keep her voice low.

“It’s easier for me to fall asleep while reading.”

“Really?” Flint raised his brows, before smiling wryly, “Reading makes me sleepy too sometimes…”

Furielle blinked, before letting out a giggle and flopping back onto her back.

“Never thought of it like that…”

Without another word, Flint quietly placed another log onto the fire before returning to his bedroll. The flames flickered gently back to life.

“Goodnight.”

“…Night!”

Within moments, Flint’s breathing slowed once again as Furielle watched him for a second before lowering her eyes back to the book.

She still hadn’t turned a single page.

𓌏

The following morning greeted them with cool mountain air and a sky so clear it seemed to stretch forever. Packs were shouldered, blankets rolled away and, before long, the little procession was making its way along the winding forest road once more.

Furielle walked a few paces ahead of everyone else, stretching her arms high above her head as an enormous yawn escaped her.

Murry shook his head, though a smile tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth.

“…You know, kid, you never actually told us where you’re from.”

For the briefest moment, her steps lost their rhythm. It was barely noticeable, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, yet Ludmilla’s eyes drifted toward her all the same.

“Oh?” Furielle clasped her hands behind her back and resumed walking as though nothing had happened. “I’m from around.”

Murry looked from one side of the road to the other before gesturing vaguely at the endless forest surrounding them.

“…Around where?”

She copied the gesture with complete confidence.

“Around!”

“That is a very vague answer, even for Murry to accept.” Ludmilla raised a brow.

Flint laughed as Furielle scratched her cheek with an awkward laugh.

“Well… I moved around a lot.”

“So you’re a drifter?” Isla asked.

“Pretty much.” Furielle shrugged as though there was nothing remarkable about it. “Stay somewhere for a while, leave, find another place, repeat. It keeps life interesting.”

“That sounds tiring.” Flint admitted.

“I thought you liked traveling.” Isla smiled.

“I do…”

He looked around at the towering trees surrounding them.

“…But it’s nice having somewhere to come back to.”

His thoughts drifted, almost unconsciously, toward their village. For a moment, neither of them noticed Furielle had gone unusually quiet.

“…What about your hometown?” Isla asked gently. “Do you ever go back?”

Furielle’s smile remained exactly where it had been, only now it felt just a little lighter.

“…It’s probably changed by now.”

“You don’t miss it?”

She laughed, waving the question away with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Nah. Too much… walking.”

Murry studied her for a second before quietly looking ahead again. He’d lived long enough to recognize when someone had answered a question without really answering it.

“Fair enough.”

“That still didn’t answer anything.” Ludmilla observed, while Isla smiled.

“Now now, not all questions need an answer.”

Then, somewhere ahead, a scream ripped through the morning air.

“HELP!”

Every head snapped toward the forest, but Flint was already running before the echo had even finished bouncing between the trees.

“There!”

The undergrowth gave way to a narrow clearing where an overturned merchant wagon lay wedged against a massive oak. Several crates had burst open upon impact, their contents scattered across the forest floor, while a middle-aged man desperately struggled to free himself from beneath the broken driver’s seat.

Three undead were closing in on him as he pleaded for help.

“Please!”

The nearest corpse reached for him but Flint quickly burst from the treeline. He drove the flat of his axe clean through its jaw and sent the creature sprawling before he planted himself between the merchant and the remaining undead.

“Murry!”

“I’ve got it!”

Murry brought his sword down on the second corpse, dropping it almost instantly, while Isla’s wind magic crashed into the third and hurled it sideways just as glowing lines spread beneath its feet.

“Bind.”

Blue chains erupted from Ludmilla’s glyph, locking the undead in place.

Before Flint could even step forward—

A blur shot past him.

“…Huh?”

Furielle had already vaulted onto the overturned wagon. Using its tilted side as a springboard, she launched herself high into the air, twisting gracefully as though gravity had briefly forgotten about her.

Still twisting through the air, Furielle drove one of her daggers cleanly through the undead’s temple.

She landed lightly behind it, caught the hilt in one smooth motion and, without breaking stride, drove the second blade upward beneath its jaw before flipping backward out of reach just as the corpse collapsed.

“…Hehe.” She grinned.

Murry blinked.

“…Well. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Furielle spun one of her daggers around a finger before sliding both weapons neatly back into their sheaths.

“I get bored standing still.”

“That…” Flint admitted, “looked really cool.”

She beamed.

“I know, right?!”

The merchant’s panicked voice immediately pulled everyone’s attention back.

“Please! Get me out of here!”

Flint and Murry were already moving. Together they heaved against the overturned wagon until the broken axle groaned beneath the strain and the cart slowly rolled upright, allowing the merchant to crawl free on trembling arms.

“…Thank you.”

But the moment he was on his feet, his eyes darted toward the surrounding trees.

“…No…” His breathing quickened. “My boy…”

He frantically searched the clearing.

“My son! He ran to get help! He should’ve been back by now…”

The five exchanged uneasy glances.

“Your son went to call for help, you say?” Murry rubbed his stubble.

The man nodded solemnly.

Flint looked toward the trees. Somewhere out there, a boy was alone with those things roaming the forest.

The thought alone made his stomach tighten.

His grip tightened around the handle of his axe.

“Sir…” he ventured. “We’ll help you find him.”