The night is long.
Sparks crackle as they fly from the campfire, the flames flicker and dance, illuminating the contemplative face of the young girl.
They sit in silence, Sevia in front of the fire, pulling her gray robe tighter, cupping her hands before her mouth to breathe warmth into them.
Looking at the slender figure barely reaching her waist, the female soldier said helplessly, "So, are we just going to keep sitting here awkwardly like this?"
"I'm not very good at chatting with people," Sevia said.
To be precise, she wasn't good at chatting with people she wasn't familiar with.
"Is that so." The female soldier said sullenly.
After the young girl had treated her wounds and given her some herbal medicine that afternoon, she felt much better, apart from a bit of weakness, she felt refreshed and wanted to find someone to talk to.
But her previous attempts all ended in failure. This deep blue-haired girl seemed not too fond of communication, as silent as a sealed jar.
