Silas approached them, his face twisted with worry as he completely ignored Ezra's presence. Without a word, he grabbed Asli's face, tilting it gently but firmly to inspect the injury.
"Are you alright?" Silas asked, his voice tinged with concern. He yanked down the collar of Asli's shirt, exposing the wound, his gaze sharp as he studied it.
Asli, though clearly in pain, managed to chuckle weakly, his voice dry. "You know, if you wanted to strip me that quickly, you could've waited till we were in private, not in front of guests," he mumbled, his lips curling into a faint, teasing smile before he dragged his shirt back up.
Silas didn't seem to appreciate the humor. His hand moved to Asli's forehead, feeling for warmth, and his eyes hardened. "You've got a fever."
"I'm not sick," Asli protested, shrugging, but Silas wasn't having it.
"You are," Silas snapped, his voice firm, though the concern didn't leave his eyes.
Asli sighed, rolling his shoulders back.
"Anyway, Ezra, please practice your archery. It sucks." His gaze shifted toward Silas before continuing. "Silas here can help you. He's good at it."
Ezra opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Silas finally acknowledging him. The icy death stare he received was enough to freeze him in place.
"I think I'll be fine," Silas muttered dismissively, before turning his attention back to Asli.
The guilt gnawed at Ezra's mind, weighing heavier with each passing moment. He had apologized more times than he could count, each time offering to heal Asli, but the other boy only brushed it off with a pained grin.
"It's fine," Asli had said, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Silas, however, wasn't as forgiving. He didn't say a word, simply guiding Asli away, but not before shooting Ezra a lingering stare—one filled with something unreadable, something that made Ezra's stomach twist uncomfortably.
Now, with nothing else left to do for the day, Ezra was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of his mistake pressing down on him like a leaden cloak.
Ezra wandered through the woods, his mind adrift with thoughts, replaying the events of the day like a broken record. Before he realized it, his feet had carried him back to the waterfall.
The familiar sound of rushing water filled the air, mingling with the crisp scent of damp earth and pine. The small wooden cabin stood there, unchanged, nestled against the towering trees. Freshly cut logs were scattered across the ground, some stacked neatly while others lay haphazardly, evidence of recent work.
And there, sprawled lazily on the ground, was the professor. He lounged as if he hadn't a single care in the world, an arm draped over his face to shield his eyes from the sun.
" Ahh you again , what do you want . Your archery sucks by the way . Hoping I was the first one to let you know "
Ezra stood frozen, his brain scrambling to process the professor's words. There was no way he could have known about his archery—he hadn't been anywhere near the training ground. The academy was miles away from this secluded waterfall, yet somehow, he knew.
"How do you know that?" Ezra demanded, his voice laced with suspicion.
The professor ignored him, sitting up with a loud stretch, his joints popping as he ran a hand through his tangled hair. His mismatched robes were even more disheveled than before, and the faint scent of alcohol still clung to him.
"I'm hungry," he announced, completely disregarding Ezra's question. "Go get me some food."
Ezra blinked, his irritation flaring. "What? No."
The professor scoffed, waving him off. "Tsk, useless. All these students running around, and none of you can do a simple task."
Ezra's jaw clenched. "If you're that hungry, why don't you go get your own food?"
The professor yawned dramatically, flopping back onto the ground like a cat basking in the sun. "Because," he drawled, "I don't feel like it."
Ezra exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.
This man was insufferable.
Ezra rolled his eyes but didn't argue, turning on his heel and heading deeper into the forest. As much as he hated to admit it, a small part of him wanted to impress the professor—maybe even bribe him into taking him seriously. If food was what it took, then he'd find something worth bringing back.
The forest was dense, the towering trees forming a thick canopy overhead, filtering the sunlight into scattered beams that danced across the moss-covered ground.
The air was rich with the scent of damp earth and fresh foliage, the sounds of distant rustling and chirping birds filling the silence.
Ezra moved carefully, scanning the underbrush for any sign of movement. He wasn't exactly a seasoned hunter, but he figured if he could find something large—something worthwhile—the professor might at least acknowledge his effort.
A rustle to his left caught his attention. He stilled, heart pounding slightly as he turned toward the source. The undergrowth shifted, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw something move between the trees. He crouched low, pressing himself against the bark of a tree as he strained his eyes.