The road east was long and mostly forgotten.
Few merchants used it.
Fewer knights patrolled it.
That was why Edward chose it.
Elsa walked beside him, small pack on her shoulders, cap pulled low.
She did not complain.
She rarely did.
The morning air was cold, and fog clung to the fields like something
reluctant to let go.
"Are we running?" she asked suddenly.
Edward didn't look at her.
"No."
She watched his face carefully.
"It feels like running."
His jaw tightened slightly.
He adjusted the strap of his sword instead of answering.
After a moment, he said quietly—
"Running is leaving because you're afraid."
She waited.
"This," he continued, "is leaving because I choose to."
She tilted her head.
"That's different?"
"Yes."
She thought about that.
Then nodded once, as if accepting his explanation even if she didn't
fully understand it.
---
They reached the border town three days later.
It was rough stone and uneven streets.
Mercenaries.
Travelers.
Men who asked fewer questions.
Perfect.
Edward registered at the local Adventurer's Guild without hesitation.
He used his real name.
False names attracted attention.
Ordinary men did not.
The guild officer skimmed his record.
"You've moved often."
"Work moves."
The officer shrugged.
"As long as you finish contracts."
Edward inclined his head.
He never failed contracts.
That was how he survived.
---
The room they rented was smaller than the bakery loft.
One bed.
One narrow window.
One table.
Elsa set her bag down and walked to the window.
She opened it slightly.
The breeze that entered was colder here.
Different.
She touched her cap unconsciously.
Edward noticed.
"You can take it off inside," he said quietly.
She hesitated.
Then removed it.
Her horns were longer now.
Still small.
Still black.
But no longer easy to hide with thin cloth.
She touched one lightly.
"Will they grow forever?"
Edward didn't answer immediately.
"I don't know."
She turned toward him.
"You never know."
He almost smiled at that.
"I'm not a scholar."
She walked closer.
"Are you scared?"
The question was direct.
Children grow sharp when they live in caution.
Edward looked at her properly then.
She had grown taller.
Her features sharper.
There was something elegant in her stillness.
Something that did not belong to humans.
"Yes," he said honestly.
She blinked.
He continued.
"I'm scared every day."
She absorbed that quietly.
"Of me?"
The words were softer this time.
The kind that could cut.
Edward stepped forward immediately.
"No."
He knelt in front of her.
Placed both hands on her shoulders.
"Never of you."
Her golden eyes flickered faintly before settling back to brown.
"Then what?"
He exhaled slowly.
"Of the world."
She studied him for a long moment.
Then said something that unsettled him more than fear ever had.
"Then I will protect you."
His breath caught.
He shook his head gently.
"That's not your job."
She didn't argue.
But she didn't agree either.
---
Weeks passed.
Edward took contracts outside town whenever possible.
Monsters.
Bandits.
Escort missions.
He avoided royal roads.
Avoided knight patrols.
Avoided attention.
He trained Elsa in the evenings.
Not to fight wildly.
To control.
Control breath.
Control emotion.
Control strength.
"Again," he would say.
She moved with unnatural balance now.
Not fast like a blur.
But precise.
Deliberate.
When she grew frustrated, the air warmed.
When she calmed, it cooled.
She was learning.
And that frightened him.
Because growth meant visibility.
---
One evening, as the sun dipped low—
A group of mercenaries blocked their path near the well.
Drunk.
Curious.
"Nice cap," one of them muttered.
Elsa stiffened.
Edward stepped slightly in front of her.
"It's just cloth."
The mercenary smirked.
"Then she won't mind taking it off."
The air shifted.
Subtle.
Warm.
Edward felt it immediately.
He placed his hand lightly over Elsa's.
Not forceful.
Just grounding.
"Go inside," he said softly.
She didn't move.
The mercenary reached forward.
That was enough.
Edward moved first.
Not flashy.
Not dramatic.
One step.
A twist.
A controlled strike to the wrist.
The man dropped to his knees with a yelp.
The others froze.
Edward's voice remained level.
"She's a child."
Silence followed.
Then the men backed away, muttering.
Edward did not chase them.
Did not escalate.
He turned slowly.
Elsa was watching him.
Not afraid.
Studying.
"You're getting slower," she said quietly.
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"Probably."
She looked at the mercenary still groaning.
"I could have handled it."
"I know."
She blinked.
He continued.
"But I want to."
That seemed to confuse her.
He rested his hand gently on her head.
"That's what fathers do."
Something flickered behind her eyes then.
Not anger.
Not heat.
Something softer.
---
Far away—
In the capital—
Jack read the updated guild logs.
Edward's name appeared again.
Different town.
Border region.
Repeated relocations.
Jack closed the ledger slowly.
This was not coincidence anymore.
He stood.
If Edward was hiding something—
It was not for selfish reasons.
That much he knew.
Which meant—
It was worse.
He began preparing for travel.
---
That night—
Elsa lay awake longer than usual.
Edward's breathing was steady beside the wall.
She stared at the ceiling.
Her hand drifted to her horn.
It felt warmer lately.
When the mercenary reached for her—
She had wanted to hurt him.
Not slightly.
Not defensively.
Completely.
The urge had been instinct.
She swallowed it.
Because her father's hand had been steady.
Grounding.
She closed her eyes.
And whispered softly—
"I won't cry."
Not because she was sad.
But because she understood something now.
If she lost control—
He would have to protect her again.
And he was getting slower.
---
Outside the border town—
A knight rode beneath a darkening sky.
Not hunting.
Not yet.
But following.