Gisele, or how she called herself, moved toward the river, dipping deep into it, and simmered in while looking at Kale with only here eyes above water level.

The water took her like a cold mouth.

It didn’t matter that the day was mild or that the sun, whatever passed for sun on these floors, had been warming the rocks. The river came straight from the mountain’s ribs, fed by meltwater and shadow, and it bit deep the moment it swallowed her shoulders. Her skin prickled, then went numb in patches, and she forced herself deeper anyway, letting the current slide over bruises and cuts like a rough cloth.

She sank until the water pressed at her jaw. Only her eyes remained above the surface, dark and watchful, tracking Kael across the bank the way a hunted animal tracked the hunter. Her hair, freshly rinsed, floated and clung in messy ribbons around her cheeks. The river carried away thin streaks of grime and diluted blood, turning the surface around her into faint pink swirls that were gone almost as soon as they formed.

She had worries about this strange man.

Half naked, tall like a giant, built like a bulldozer. And fast, incredibly so.

He moved like he belonged here, like the cliff and the lake and the wind were familiar furniture. Even now, with his back to the water, his posture read as casual, but it wasn’t lazy. It was ready without looking ready. The kind of body that didn’t need to hunch or flinch to be prepared.

And that made her wary in a way she didn’t like.

"What do you think of that brat?" the small creature swam around her.

It circled just beneath the surface, a red streak gliding through the water with too much confidence for something that small. The river should’ve dragged it, should’ve forced it to fight to stay close, but it moved like the current was permission instead of resistance. When it surfaced, it did so without splashing, little head and eyes appearing beside her like it had always been there.

"I don’t know," she muttered, "He’s very strange. You saw the callouses on his hands?" she asked.

She kept her voice low.

The callouses weren’t normal labor callouses either. They weren’t the soft thickening you got from tools, rope, or blades. They were the hardened, layered kind you earned by turning bone and skin into a weapon, knuckles that had healed badly and then healed again until pain became background noise.

"Yes, strong like stone, even my claws couldn’t pierce through. But, that wasn’t what I was talking about... this isn’t normal."

The creature’s tiny paws cut the surface in a tight circle, agitated. Its eyes kept flicking toward Kael and back, like it wanted to measure him from every angle at once. For something that small, it held itself like it expected to be obeyed.

"When was anything normal in the tower," she said.

She didn’t bother hiding the bitterness. The tower had burned the concept of normal out of her long ago. Normal was a story living people told themselves so they could sleep.

"No, this man is strange, even in Tower Strange. He’s just... I can’t put my mind to it."

She understood that feeling too well. It was the same itch she got when something didn’t fit.

"I know how you feel, I felt that first hand." She said as she dove deeper, letting the water wash away the dirt and the blood from her.

She sank until the river muffled everything. The world became pressure and cold and the distant, warped crackle of fire on shore.

She scrubbed at her arms and collarbone, fingers dragging across scabs. Dried blood loosened in strips. Mud fell away in heavy clumps. The river took it all without judgment.

When she surfaced again, she did it quietly, exhaling through her nose and keeping her face angled so only her eyes broke the surface at first. She didn’t want Kael to see how tired she was. She didn’t want him to see anything.

The man casually began skinning and preparing fire for the piece of meat that she asked to have. Not only that he even cut some more.

He worked like it was routine.

Not rushed. Not careful in the timid way. Careful in the efficient way. His knife, wherever it had come from, moved with the certainty of someone who had done this enough times that the motion lived in his wrists. He split hide from flesh cleanly, cutting along the grain instead of fighting it, stripping fat and sinew without wasting time. Every scrap he set aside had purpose. Every motion had an end.

Then began cooking and seasoning it as if he had done so a thousand times.

The smell hit her in waves even out here, fat sizzling, smoke curling through pine and wet stone, a sharp tang of whatever he used to season it. It shouldn’t have been comforting. It was too simple for a place like this. But hunger made the body stupid, made it listen to smells like they were commands.

Not once did he check his surrounding for enemies, not once did he turn toward her or even worry.

That part bothered her most.

No scanning the tree line. No pauses to listen. No glance toward the cliff above them. He behaved like nothing here could touch him.

He was either extremely foolish, or incredibly powerful that he didn’t care enough. And she couldn’t decide which.

If it was foolishness, he would die soon.

If it was power, real power, then the danger wasn’t the forest. It was him.

"Those healed injuries on his knuckles," the creature said. "That’s a pugilist I believe. Or a fist fighter."

The creature’s voice had a dryness to it, like it was trying not to sound impressed and failing. It swam closer to her shoulder, keeping its body low in the water, eyes still fixed on Kael’s hands.

"In this day and age? Where steel reigns, he chose fists."

She didn’t mean it as mockery. It was disbelief mixed with the kind of respect she hated giving away too easily. Fists were for fools. Fists were for people who didn’t know better. Or for people so far beyond "better" that the rules didn’t apply to them.

"Don’t underestimate a man who fights bare handed. If he’s willing to get those injuries on his knuckles that means he knows what he’s doing. Even the way he moves is too... predatory."

Predatory was the right word.

Kael didn’t move like someone trying to avoid danger. He moved like danger was something he expected to handle, like it was part of the environment. Like weather.

"You noticed that too."

She kept her eyes on him, tracking the weight shifts in his legs, the way he never fully committed his back to the open, the way his shoulders stayed loose even when he leaned over the fire. Loose shoulders meant fast hands.

"Yes, his steps were too light for someone his size." The creature said.

The river lapped softly at her chin. She blinked slowly, letting her lashes shed droplets without fully moving her face. Even blinking felt like it carried weight right now. Every unnecessary movement was wasted energy.

"Reminds me of a certain someone..."