"What is he saying? Everybody knows I'm the best hunter here," Rumi declared, standing tall on a flat rock like he was addressing a royal court instead of a handful of tired campers. He rubbed his wooden spear dramatically, as if polishing a sacred relic.
Silence.
Then laughter erupted around the campfire.
Leina nearly dropped her bowl of stew. "The best hunter?" she gasped. "Rumi, last week you tried to trap a rabbit and ended up catching your own boot."
"It was a test run!" Rumi protested, pointing his spear like a scepter. "A clever decoy strategy. You've all been fooled!"
Sarah wiped tears from her eyes. "By your boot?"
Even Alimi, usually quiet and cautious, chuckled softly. "You once brought back a squirrel pelt and said it was a wolf."
"It was a small wolf," Rumi said defiantly. "A miniature forest wolf. Very rare."
Mia sat a little apart from the others, perched on a fallen log, carefully restringing her bow. She hadn't laughed, but the corners of her mouth were twitching. Rumi couldn't help stealing glances at her—the way she moved with purpose, her calm focus. She looked like she belonged in the wild, like she was the forest.
He puffed out his chest and raised his voice. "Laugh all you want, but deep down, you know I've got potential. Hunting is about instinct, courage, and—" he paused dramatically "—a touch of flair."
"More like a touch of fantasy," Leina said, rolling her eyes.
Rumi shot her a grin, but his eyes drifted back to Mia. "What do you think?" he asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Mia looked up, meeting his gaze. "I think you're good at talking."
The words hit harder than he expected. She wasn't mocking him—she was just being honest. That made it worse.
He swallowed. "Then I'll prove it. I'll go hunting tomorrow. At dawn. Alone."
The laughter stopped. The mood shifted instantly.
Sarah's smile faded. "You're joking."
Rumi straightened. "Nope. I'll go past the ridge, into the real forest. I'll bring back something none of you have ever seen."
"That's not brave, Rumi. That's reckless." Alimi stood, worry etched across his face. "People don't go out there alone."
"Maybe they don't," Rumi said, "because they're afraid. I'm not."
Leina shook her head. "You're going to get eaten by something weird. Or worse, fall into one of those sinkholes the elders warn about."
"I'll avoid the holes," Rumi replied coolly. "And if I do get eaten, at least I'll die a legend."
"More like a cautionary tale," Sarah muttered.
Mia stood and walked over to him. Her expression was unreadable. "If you're really going," she said, pulling a pouch from her belt, "take this."
Inside were a few dried berries, a flint stone, and a tightly folded map.
Rumi blinked. "What's this?"
"Something to help you not die in the first five minutes," she said. Then, more softly, "I don't think you're useless, Rumi. I just think you talk too much."
He grinned sheepishly. "Only because I have a lot to say. Especially when you're around."
Mia looked at him—really looked—and for a second, her expression softened. Then she turned and walked away.
As the others drifted back to their tents, mumbling about how they'd find his shoe in a tree, Rumi remained by the fire. The shadows danced across his face, but the warmth didn't reach his chest.
He looked down at the map Mia had given him, tracing its folds with a finger.
This wasn't about proving anything to Sarah, Leina, or Alimi.
It was about her.
And tomorrow, he was going to make her believe in him—even if he had to outrun every shadowbeast in the forest to do it.