The flames were low tonight. Low enough that the smoke curled lazy through the air, unbothered by wind. Someone was laughing a little ways off. It was probably one of that new guys who talked too much. Adrian didn’t mind the noise since it didn’t reach where he was sitting.
Fenn was nearby. Same as always. He was forever close, but not too close. He never took a seat around the fire, just crouched a few feet back in the dark where the trees started. That was normal. Camp got loud, and Fenn wasn’t made for noise. Adrian couldn’t blame him.
They’d never really spoken when Adrian first got here. Not even a nod was exchanged. Fenn was just someone he’d pass in the woods, usually carrying something over his shoulder or leaving faint tracks behind. Adrian had started following them. Not in a creepy way- just watching how he moved, where he stepped. He doubted Fenn would've cared, anyway. The silence made sense out there, and those comfortable in it had an understanding that others might not get.
Eventually, Fenn noticed.
He didn’t say anything, just started waiting sometimes. Showing Adrian how to spot the undergrowth trails, how to climb up high and listen to what the wind was doing. Which animals stayed away, which didn’t. Adrian never asked for the lessons, but he didn’t turn them down either. He'd still just been a wildlife photographer at the time, not fully part of the forest.
One night, Adrian asked, “Why do you hunt in a forest you clearly don’t want to disturb?”
Fenn had just looked up from tying a snare, steady hands pausing for a second.
“Because hunting is part of the forest,” he answered back, “Part of life. Artemis teaches that. Doesn’t mean we take what isn’t offered.”
That was the first time Adrian realized he was a follower. Fenn didn’t wear it like some title. He just lived it.
They still don’t talk much, even now. But when their paths cross, they both tend to linger a while longer, exchanging a few observations. What tracks are new, where the foxes are nesting this week. Sometimes Fenn shares a fact Adrian wouldn’t have picked up otherwise- like which parts of the forest are older than Camp itself, or where to get the best fruit at this time of year before the other wild things get to it.
Adrian doesn’t always respond. But he listens. Because Fenn’s not a loud teacher. He’s just someone who understands what it means to really belong somewhere.
