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Hestia didn’t miss the way he went quiet. She didn’t press him for an answer, didn’t tilt her head or try to peer deeper into that pause, she simply let it happen, the way one lets a wound breathe before it’s touched. She could feel the shift in him, though. The way her words had landed somewhere tender. Too tender, she realized, a small ache blooming in her chest.

He’s spent a long time being told to swallow his own softness, she thought. And an even longer time believing he deserves to.

So when he finally spoke — polite and measured with the neat stitching of a man trying to hold himself together — she only offered him a warm, steady smile. It wasn't triumphant or knowing. Just… gentle.

Take your time, she said, her voice softer now, like she’d lowered the flame inside herself on purpose. The water’s cold, but it’ll wake you up a bit. And don’t worry about being ‘presentable’. You’re not offending anyone. A tiny spark of humor warmed the words, barely-there but true.

While he stepped away toward the stream, she settled near the spot where a fire might sit, brushing a few dry leaves aside and arranging stones with a practiced ease. Her movements were calm, steady and purposeful. The kind that didn’t demand anything of him. The kind that let him breathe.

He thinks walking alone spares others from his hurt, she mused, her paw resting briefly against the earth. But loneliness has teeth. And he’s been feeding it for a long, long time.

She raised her head when she heard him move, her robin-blue eyes catching the last traces of twilight. And Nate? she added, voice carrying just enough warmth to reach him but not enough to trap him. You don’t have to agree with me. I don’t expect you to.

A small, almost secret smile tugged at her lips.

But it’s alright to hope for something kinder than what you’ve known. Even if it feels foolish.

She turned back to the fire pit, beginning to rub crushed herbs into a some left over elk meat she hunted prior. Go on, she murmured, wash up. I’ll have supper ready by the time you’re back.

There was no insistence in her tone, only an invitation, steady and warm, like a hearth left open for a weary traveler to return to if he chose to.

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