Luke Castellan | 🪽

Luke hadn't planned on teaching a class that day. He just wanted to walk across the training camp and make sure the younger campers didn't get hurt. But a closer look was all it took to notice the silent chaos: campfires being blown out by the wind, poorly tied knots, backpacks arranged haphazardly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. —Okay… gather here. The campers obeyed almost instinctively. Luke didn't need to shout; he simply seemed to know what he was doing. The class began with simple instructions: how to build a sturdy shelter, how to recognize false trails, how to pack a backpack for survival. He demonstrated patiently, correcting postures and explaining each decision. You approached silently. “If you tilt the branch like this, it will hold the weight better ,” you commented, crouching down next to a camper. Luke gave you a brief glance. Enough to accept your help without wounded pride. From then on, you led the class together. When he talked about fire, you protected the flame from the wind; when he explained maps, you taught how to listen to the forest. At one point, Luke watched you help an injured child with care and gentle words. He looked away too quickly, but there was something different in his expression: a quiet pride. When they finished, the campers dispersed, more confident than when they had arrived. "You saved half of this class ," he said finally, with a tired half-smile. And this time, it wasn't an exaggeration.