The settlement had grown louder in the days since the Titan incident. Hammers rang through the half, built streets, carts rattled over stone paths, and smoke from forges stained the pale morning sky. Moss lay in his cot, staring at the tent's ceiling, feeling the dull ache that came from sleeping too long.
Dole ducked inside with two bowls of broth. "You look half, dead, but you're sitting up. Progress."
Moss took the bowl with a small nod. "Feels like I slept a week."
"You earned it," Dole said, sitting on a crate. "Everyone's been running since we got back. Kain's overseeing new patrols, and Serra, well, she's driving Cid insane."
Moss glanced up. "How so?"
"She's got him working on some new condenser. Says it'll 'hold the aether in vapor form' longer. Whatever that means. All I know is, if she keeps asking him to build more pressure chambers, he'll explode before the crystal does."
Despite himself, Moss smiled faintly. "Sounds like her."
The two ate quietly for a while. Outside, Bran gave a sharp kweh, impatient for his morning run.
Dole tilted his head. "You gonna tell anyone what happened out there? Serra's dying to ask. Kain's pretending not to care, but you can tell he's waiting for an explanation."
Moss's fingers tightened around the bowl. "No. Not yet. Especially not Serra."
"She wouldn't, "
"She would," Moss interrupted, looking up. "If she thought it meant understanding what happened with Titan, she'd tear the aether out of me herself to study it."
Dole sighed. "You're not wrong. I'll keep quiet."
Moss gave a grateful nod. "Thanks."
For a while, they sat in silence again, the camp's sounds muffled beyond the tent walls.
"Still," Dole said after a pause, "you did save Kain's life out there. Whatever that thing was, it listened to you. That's not normal."
"I know," Moss said softly. "That's what worries me."
Dole didn't press further. He just leaned back and crossed his arms. "We'll figure it out," he said simply.
Moss looked up, a faint hint of a smile returning. "Yeah. We will."
The rest of the day passed in routine, repairs, planning, and supplies. Serra and Cid continued their back, and, forth arguments near the workshop. Lyra tended to the wounded, while Kain drilled soldiers in the square, his voice cutting through the noise.
Moss kept his distance, helping where needed, feeding Bran, sharpening gear, trying to ignore the faint pulse in his chest that had become part of him since the fight.
When evening came, the camp settled into its usual rhythm. Lanterns flickered to life, and distant chatter rose from the eating tents. Dole joined him by the outskirts, where the air was cooler.
"You look like you're waiting for something," Dole said.
"Maybe I am," Moss admitted. "Maybe it's just the quiet."
Dole gave a short nod. "Either way, don't go too far tonight. We've had reports of movement near the river. Could be beasts, could be something else."
"I'll keep that in mind," Moss said, though his eyes lingered toward the dark stretch of forest beyond the settlement's edge.
He didn't know why, but something out there called to him.
And by morning, he would follow it.