The forest felt different after blood had soaked into its roots.
Quieter. Watching.
Morning light filtered weakly through the canopy, turning the clearing into a pale wash of gold and gray. The air smelled of ash, damp earth… and healing.
Nera slept against a tree trunk, bandages wrapped tightly around her ribs. Her breathing was steady now, stronger than it had any right to be after a wound like that.
Dante sat beside her, back straight, eyes alert. He hadn’t moved in hours.
He hadn’t blinked much either.
Lina approached slowly, carrying water in a metal cup. “You should rest,” she said gently.
“I am resting,” Dante replied, not looking away from Nera.
“That’s not rest. That’s… guarding.”
“Same thing.”
Lina knelt beside them. “She’s healing fast.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “Too fa
