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The trio of adventurers settles in after a hard day of fighting against a horde of rather angry goblins. Fern is still able to smell their pungent feet even hours after they had left the green nuisances behind in the dust, making the purple-haired mage wrinkle her nose in disgust as she flops her travelling pack down in the dirt.
"We'll camp here for the night," Frieren says, her keen eyes noticing that Fern's rather unceremonious dumping of her backpack is indicative that the younger mage has reached her absolute limit for the day.
It's still difficult for Frieren to remember that Fern and Stark are both six years younger than Himmel had been when their Hero's journey had ended nearly three quarters of a century ago. She has to remember to allow them ample time to rest, their young selves being unused to the longer haul of travelling and the added fact that human bodies are generally less hardy than those of elves.
"Finally! I thought my feet were going to fall off if we worked any farther!" Stark gasps, wiping a line of sweat from his brow as he practically collapses into a puddle on the forest floor.
"You didn't even carry any of the heavier materials, Mr. Stark," Fern growls through gritted teeth.
She looks at Stark's much smaller pack with disgust on her face as she thinks of just how many trinkets she had to tote in addition to their food and water supply. After all, someone in their small party had to be the responsible one and manage their rations accordingly where they wouldn't die of dehydration or starvation on their journey across the continent.
"Well, if it wasn't for your mistress collecting treasure at every place we visit and overloading her own bag, perhaps your bag wouldn't be as heavy!" Stark argues, flipping the cap off the waterskin before taking a long, cool drink.
"Well, if it wasn't for your rather weak constitution and fear of real labor, perhaps you could carry more!" Fern snaps back, breaking a granola bar in half and handing the second portion to Frieren.
"As I told you before, it wouldn't hurt you to be a little friendlier! I'm a sensitive soul, remember?" the young red-haired warrior complains, rifling through his backpack to see if he has any rations of his own since it does not appear as if Fern is in a sharing mood this particular evening.
"What a pain in the rear you are!" the young mage exasperatedly shouts.
"What did you call me?!?"
"Children, please stop fighting amongst yourselves," Frieren's voice breaks through the din and chaos of her young charges as the elf comes to physically stand between Fern and Stark to keep them from coming to blows.
"We're adults, not children!" the two young adventurers retort.
"Then stop acting like it and let's get started on making camp for the evening," the legendary mage heavily sighs, her hand coming to rest on her hip and she comes dangerously close to doing Heiter's tongue click of rage. "I'll handle getting a fire started. Fern, you're responsible for finding drinking water for tonight and to refill the waterskins for the journey tomorrow. Stark, you're to go hunting for some dinner. Try your best to find rabbit or a deer," she orders, leaving no room for argument.
"Yes, Mistress Frieren," Fern quietly acquiesces, the tips of her ears turning crimson in embarrassment at the correction she received from her mentor.
"Yes, ma'am!" Stark quickly follows after, grabbing his ax and slinging it across his muscled shoulders, a nervous look playing across his features at the scolding.
Frieren nods in satisfaction before she begins to gather firewood and rocks to build the campfire for the night's cooking and warmth.
Fern and Stark return back to camp at nearly the same time, much to the shock of the two younger members of the newly formed trio. Fern's arms are weighed down with filled waterskins to keep them hydrated throughout the night and she would refill them in the morning before their departure. Stark carries two rabbits in his left hand, his prized ax held firmly in his other hand should he have been ambushed by predators on the trek back to their makeshift camp.
"Rabbits!" Frieren excitedly says, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Fern makes the best rabbit stew over the fire! Will you please make it for us, Fern?" the mage requests, personally thinking that Fern's rabbit stew is one of the tastiest meals she has ever consumed during her vast experiences on the Earth.
Say what she would about Heiter, but she can't deny that that corrupt priest had given Fern a magnificent instruction in cooking during her youth.
"Rabbit stew it is, then, Mistress Frieren. You're lucky I saved some of the potatoes and carrots I bought in the last village two days ago or it wouldn't have been your favorite way," Fern warmly rolls her eyes, pouring a large amount of water into the pot she uses to cook with on the road.
"I can't wait to try it if it's as good as you're making it out to be!" Stark smiles, sitting down on the forest floor before peeling his boots off and rubbing his aching arches.
"You don't believe it's as good as Mistress Frieren claims?" Fern darkly accuses, holding up the ladle in preparation to smack Stark upside the head with it.
"Must everything be a fight with you?" the warrior dramatically sighs, pretending to see right past the angered mage.
"When it involves you, then that does seem to be the common thread, yes."
With the heavenly aroma of Fern's famed rabbit, potato, and carrot stew permeating the air, the trio of adventurers settles down to eat, a hunk of bread rationed out to each of them from Fern's pack. Thunder rumbles in the distance before a fat raindrop lands on Stark's nose, causing the young warrior to sneeze.
"I didn't realize a storm was rolling in," Frieren muses aloud, packing her newest precious grimoire into her bag to keep its pages from becoming even more worn than they already are.
"Neither did I," Fern agrees, pulling her blanket out and placing it over the top of her head like a canopy.
"It will be good for all of the crops, though. Should make for a wonderful harvest in the towns," the elven mage comments, thinking of all the wonderful produce they will encounter on their journey in a few weeks' time.
Stark remains silent, staring wide-eyed into the fire, the thunder sending a chill down his spine. Lightning flashes brightly between the trees nearly above the party and the thunder booms loudly in response, shaking the trees to their core. In a flash, the rain begins, thick torrents streaming from the sky and efficiently smothering the campfire Frieren had built so meticulously to last them the night. Another crack of thunder and lightning ripples through the air, Stark's arm hair standing erect as he scrambles on his hands away from the nearest tree. His breath begins coming out in shallow gasps, the air around him feeling cold despite the sweat beginning to collect on his back.
"This is scary," Stark nervously laughs, tucking his knees to his chest and trying his best not to scream in fright at the sudden torrential downpour thunderstorm wreaking havoc on the forest.
"Really?" Fern incredulously inquires, rolling her purple eyes in the process. "You really are the most cowardly man who calls himself a warrior that I have ever met," she sighs, setting her now empty stew bowl down to be rinsed out by the rainfall.
"Eisen says there's nothing wrong with being scared," Stark says, his voice a ghost of a whisper as he thinks back to another night like this one many years ago when he was small that Eisen had to comfort him as a young apprentice.
"Eisen is a wise dwarf. It would do you well to remember his life lessons throughout our travels," Frieren agrees, a yawn overtaking her lips. "I sleep so well during storms," she yawns again, her eyes closing reflexively.
"You sleep well no matter the circumstances, Mistress Frieren," Fern reminds, rolling her eyes once more.
"But I sleep the best during thunderstorms. I always have."
Not long after that statement, Frieren is fast asleep underneath one of the trees, having casted a spell over the three of them to keep them dry from the rain no matter how long it storms overnight.
She couldn't help but tease Fern when she casted the spell, calling mention to the fact that had it not been for her fascination with collecting "odd spells", they would've been soaked to the bone in no time.
"I envy how well she's able to sleep," Stark murmurs into the darkness some time later, his eyelids heavy but his eyes unable to close due to the darkness closing in on them caused by the flushed out fire and the raging storm.
"Don't we all," Fern scoffs, still not sure how Frieren manages to sleep with such reckless abandon with no desire to ever post anyone on watch even on the nights they camp in the woods.
"I see now why you made such a big deal as to that morning she woke up before midday without any prompting," the young warrior laughs, his amber eyes threatening to close at any second but his lifelong fear of thunderstorms forcing him to remain awake.
"You'll find that most of what I say is for a reason, Mr. Stark," Fern chuckles, propping her forearms underneath her own head to attempt to rest.
"Again I ask that we please drop the formalities, Fern."
"We'll see about that."
If Fern has to hear Stark toss or turn one more time, she is going to throttle him. Frieren will wake up to find their warrior gone and Fern will have weaved a wonderous tale about what happened to Stark, not mentioning that she would be the one to end him and drag his body off to the woods to never be found.
"Fern?" Stark's voice comes out in a near squeak, extremely meek for a warrior of his strength and caliber. "Are you still awake?" he inquires next, his voice dropping to a whisper as he realizes he may have awoken the mage and he fears the consequences of that as he had feared Eisen during their only true fight.
"Hard not to be with all your thrashing," Fern deadpans, rolling over and casting her violet gaze onto Stark's squirming form, at least as well as she can in the darkness.
"Sorry," comes his quiet response, both of them certain that Frieren is still fast asleep, untroubled by even the loudest of noises during her slumber.
A beat of silence passes and Fern finds herself growing more annoyed and impatient by the second, just wanting to finally go to sleep following a long day of travel.
"Is there some reason why you wanted to know why I'm awake?" she inquires in a slightly sharp tone. "Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark, too!" Fern exasperatedly remarks after she realizes that this fear would indeed go hand in hand with Stark's track record of fears.
"Well, I..."
"If your answer is going to be yes, don't even bother answering that question, Stark."
"Hey, you finally used just my name!"
"Do not try and deflect the conversation, Mr. Stark."
"Andddd I ruined it. Why can I never just keep my big mouth shut?" Stark laments, slapping himself in the face at the sheer stupidity of ruining the one situation where Fern voluntarily used just his first name without the honorifics.
"The world would be a much simpler place if Mistress Frieren and I knew the answer to that question," Fern smirks, her verbal barbs coming like second nature.
Noticing that the campfire is still out, Fern casts a spell to dry the firewood and then a secondary spell to relight the pile of sticks, a thrilling blaze appearing and lighting their small campsite. In the glowing embers of the fire, Fern sees Stark's face visibly relax as the warrior rolls to face Fern, their noses nearly touching in the close confines. Frieren's spell keeping them all dry despite the thunderstorm only has a small radius, after all. It most likely was originally only meant to cover a single traveler on horseback.
"Did you--Did you just light that fire for me?"
"I have no idea what you're referring to."
"You just cast a spell to restart the fire, didn't you? I know you and Frieren aren't too worried with keeping it going once we're asleep for the night, something about calling attention to our location to potential enemies."
"You really have no survival instincts, do you?"
"Hey! I'm trying to thank you and you're being crabby!" Stark remarks, narrowing his amber eyes and looking disappointedly at the young mage.
"You're welcome," Fern responds, rolling swiftly over to her other side where her face is no longer nearly pressed to Stark's.
"Will it-- Will it burn out soon, or...?" Stark questions, concern laced in his voice even as he does his best to hide it.
"I've enchanted it to stay burning until daylight," Fern answers simply.
"You truly do care, Fern," Stark smirks, pressing his shoulder against Fern's own.
"Goodnight, Stark," Fern says with a tone of finality.
"Goodnight, Fern," Stark whispers, his amber eyes closing and the tense muscles in his back relaxing as he listens to the quietness of Fern's even breaths.
Frieren surprisingly awakens the next morning before either of them, finding Stark's back tucked against Fern's chest. The purple haired mage's arms are wrapped around the fiery headed warrior's torso, instinctually pulling him close. The famed elf mage of legend wonders what precisely she missed last night that led her two young charges ending up in this position. She is well aware that the two typically fight tooth and nail when awake and does not find it worth the time and effort it would take to act as the mediator between the two of them. However, Frieren knows all of that is just bluster, knowing that Stark and Fern would fight to the death without hesitation to protect one another even as they needle one another constantly. Come to think of it, Fern and Stark remind her of herself and....
"Himmel," Frieren breathes into the early morning air, her breath foggy in front of her. "This will complicate things," she whispers, turning her head upwards to the glorious sunrise that she has found herself enjoying the simplicity of more in the nearly thirty years since Himmel's death.
Frieren softly laughs as she hears Himmel's voice so clearly in her head, almost as if he is standing right beside her and not twenty eight years buried in the ground.
"Complicate, maybe. But what a privilege it is to be able to see those you love deeply realize they are in love with one another," she hears Himmel's voice say and a small smile appears on Frieren's lips at this.
She wonders if that is what she and Himmel could have found if she hadn't been oblivious to his desires and attempts to show his interests that she only realized when he passed. She allows Stark and Fern to sleep as long as they would like this morning. Such tender mornings are few and far between for adventurers and should be treasured when they do occur, she muses.