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His eyes glowed with a quiet intensity in the sporadic light. “These storms can last for hours,” he said, his voice barely rising above the din outside.
I nodded, feeling a strange sense of safety despite the chaos raging beyond the cave mouth. Yet an itch of restlessness crawled under my skin—a gnawing reminder I couldn’t hole up here.
“I need to find a place to set up camp,” I said, breaking the hush that fell between us. “Somewhere safe from this storm.”
Zunnik regarded me with a thoughtful tilt of his head. With a thoughtful tilt of his head, Zunnik told me, “You can stay here for the night.”
The offer hung in the air, generous and inviting. The thought of spending a night in this alien haven tugged at me with an irresistible allure. A part of me clung to my independence, to the plan I meticulously crafted before setting out on this expedition.
“I appreciate it,” I replied, hesitating as another crash of thunder shook the ground beneath us. “But I have equipment out there that needs securing.”
A look of understanding crossed Zunnik’s features, and he moved closer to me. “Then we will go together,” he said. “The storm is no friend to either of us.”
I could hardly argue with his logic. Besides, something about Zunnik that inspired confidence—his stature, his calm amidst chaos, his subtle but undeniable protectiveness.
We ventured out into the tempest, Zunnik leading the way with an uncanny sense of direction. Rain pelted us relentlessly, soaking through my clothes within moments. The wind howled like a wounded animal as we navigated through trees bending in its grip.
My heart raced with each crackle and boom overhead, but Zunnik remained unfazed, a steady force against nature’s fury. He found my scattered gear with ease—a testament to his familiarity with these woods—and helped me secure it under an overhang shielded by thick foliage.
“There,” he said once we finished. “It should be safe here.”
I nodded my thanks, catching my breath as we both took shelter from the relentless downpour. The rain showed no signs of letting up, each dropping another note in nature’s symphony of power.
“I’m enchanted by your cave,” I admitted during a brief lull in the storm’s assault. “And I'm grateful for your help tonight.”
Zunnik’s eyes softened for a moment before another bolt split the sky outside our refuge.
“Tonight you are under my protection,” he replied simply. “The storm will pass.”
I awoke to smelling earth and the sound of rain’s gentle patter against the cave entrance. Zunnik’s steady breathing resonated in the dim space, his form a shadowy outline in the pre-dawn light. Gratitude welled up inside me, mingling with a sense of duty. I needed to repay his kindness.
I slid out from the makeshift bedding and tiptoed over to my backpack. I rummaged through it, my fingers finding the pouches of freeze-dried foods I packed for the trip. Today’s menu: scrambled eggs and dehydrated hash browns.
Zunnik’s fire pit beckoned. I watched him start a fire last night with practiced ease. Embers still glowed faintly beneath the ash, their warmth a silent promise. Gathering small twigs and dried leaves, I breathed life back into them, coaxing flames from slumber.
The fire crackled to life, its light flickering across the cave walls. I filled a pot with water from my supplies and set it over the flames. The sizzle of rehydrating food soon joined the symphony of rain and fire.
As I stirred the eggs, their aroma filled the cave—a stark contrast to the rawness of nature outside. My stomach growled in anticipation, but more than hunger spurred me on. The desire to connect struck me, to share something of my world with Zunnik as he shared his with me.
A rustle from behind startled me. Zunnik stood there, his towering frame silhouetted against the dying darkness. Surprise etched his features as he took in the sight before him—me, at his fire pit, cooking breakfast felt like the most natural thing in the world.
His eyes narrowed at the pot and then at me. “You’re using my fire,” he stated, more an observation than an accusation.
I offered him a tentative smile. “Good morning,” I said cheerfully. “I thought I made us breakfast to say thank you for... well, everything.”
Zunnik stepped closer, curiosity overcoming his initial surprise as he watched me tend to the meal. “What is this?” he asked, gesturing toward the pot.
“It’s called scrambled eggs,” I explained, stirring with renewed vigor as they set. “A simple dish from where I’m from.”
He remained silent for a moment, then moved to sit across from me by the fire. His gaze shifted between my face and my hands, working methodically over our breakfast.
“I’ve never seen food prepared this way,” Zunnik admitted.
I laughed. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
As the relentless patter of rain softened to a whisper, I zipped up my backpack, securing the last of my gear. The morning air held a freshness that only comes after a storm, the scent of pine and wet earth intermingling in a cleansing breath.
“Thank you, Zunnik,” I said, hoisting the pack onto my shoulders. “Your hospitality saved me from a soaked night out there.”
