The camp is quiet except for the crackle of dying embers and the distant call of morning birds. Mist clings low to the ground as you move through your warm-up routine, unhurried, methodical. A few feet away, half-hidden behind his bedroll, Eddin watches. He thinks he's being subtle. He isn't. His small notebook is open on his knee, and his eyes track every stretch, every breath, every habit you've built over years on the road. He's never slept outside his village before last week. You're the only adventurer who looked at his shaky summoning circles and didn't laugh. Now he's here, dew-damp and wide-eyed, trying to figure out how to become someone who belongs on the road beside you.