“Yes,” Anik said, meeting his eyes, one corner of his lip curling upwards.

“So the blacksmith is the secret, powerful warrior prince of a mysterious, faraway nation,” Ren said, unable to help himself. He threw up his hands in a grand gesture, like he had figured it all out.

Anik's head dipped, shoulders shaking. The motion was followed by a sound that made Ren gawk: light, rippling laughter. Not a sarcastic grin triggered by Ren's ignorance or in mockery of his flaws, but sincere, light-hearted laughter than creased the corners of Anik's eyes. Ren had heard it once before, after their daring escape from Rowland the butcher, but then it had been mixed with the sounds of his own and Ilias' voices. Now he could hear it clearly and it was strange. It was easy to forget that Anik was even capable of laughter.

Their eyes met and Anik's gaze flickered before he turned his head away and silence fell over them once more. Anik folded his arms over his chest like he was protecting himself from the cold. The temperatures were starting to get lower at night, and he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Footsteps broke the silence and Ren looked up to see Niklas approaching from the camp, woken from his sleep. His gaze lingered on Anik and grew dark. “What are you doing? Sneaking off to fuck in the bushes?” Niklas asked, voice dry as he shot Ren a surprisingly accusing look.

“Don't be stupid,” Ren said, pushing himself up. “We were training.”

Niklas shot a long glance at their untouched swords on the ground. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Ren felt his cheeks burning, even though Niklas' accusation couldn't have been further from the truth. “Seriously,” he said, in an attempt to change the subject. He picked up his blade. “You should train, too. I don't want you to get skewered by a guard's sword.”

“It's too late for that now,” Niklas said, suppressing a yawn. “Besides, I don't-”

A new sound made them all freeze: deep, rasping barks interrupted by the baying howls of hunting dogs in the distance.

Anik moved first. Grabbing his discarded sword, he darted back to the camp. His sharp voice startled Ren out of his frozen state. “We're downwind! Get the horses!”

Ren turned, fetched his sword and raced for the horses. The animals tossed their heads nervously. Fumbling in the half-darkness, Ren tugged the girths tight. Niklas ran towards him, taking both horses by the reins.

Word of their escape had travelled faster than Ren had thought.

“Maybe it's just a boar-hunting party?” Niklas asked tensely, looking over his shoulder in direction of the sounds. They were getting louder.