The lake shimmered like liquid glass beneath the moon. The ripples caught the silver light and threw it softly against the cabin walls. Inside, the air smelled faintly of pine and smoke; the fire had dwindled to a quiet glow, the kind that hummed warmth into the bones rather than heat.

Kristen sat across from me on the couch, his arm draped along the backrest, his eyes half-lit by the amber light. There was something disarming about him here — stripped of his title, the weight of the pack, ...