Tuesday, Midday:
As they rest by the riverbank, Ivy Mae pulls out a small, worn notebook. “I was saving this for today,” she says.
“What’s today?” Jas asks.
“Your birthday,” Ivy Mae says softly.
Jas blinks. “Oh. I guess it is.”
Roman looks up from his carving. “I didn’t forget. I made you something.” He hands Jas a small pendant carved into the shape of a salmon, smooth and polished. “It’s for strength and resilience.”
Jas fingers the pendant, their voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”
Tuesday, Evening:
As the sun sets, Ivy Mae brings out her creation: a flatbread cooked on the fire, drizzled with honey she traded for weeks ago. She sets it down on a piece of bark decorated with wildflowers.
“It’s not much,” she says, “but you’re 19, Jas. That’s something to celebrate.”
Jas smiles, their eyes bright with emotion. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
They sit together, sharing the simple meal. Roman tells a story about his first carving, a clumsy attempt as a child, and Ivy Mae shares memories of Jas as a baby.
For a moment, the weight of their journey lifts, replaced by warmth and connection.
Tuesday, Night:
Later, under the stars, Jas ties the pendant around their neck and holds it tightly. “I wish I knew what the future holds,” they say.
Ivy Mae places a hand on their shoulder. “One step at a time. That’s all we can do.”
Roman nods. “And you’re not alone. We’re here, Jas. Always.”
The three of them sit in silence, watching the stars, the bond between them stronger than ever.