Chapter Text
Bloom settles on the forest floor with a sigh. He can still see the flickering of the party's fire where they've set up camp for the night. A warm, comforting glow.
Zorro curls up next to him, his head on Bloom's thigh who starts scratching the dog's ears absentmindedly, letting his thoughts drift. They play for a moment, with birds, weather, coming day, before settling on what they always seem to, lately.
"You know, Zorro, I keep looking at him. All the time. I don't know why. And when I'm doing something else I still think of him. It's strange."