The light changes.
We're inside.
It smells like him in a way the rest of the territory doesn't—denser, layered, the cedar gone deep into the furs and the wood and the air itself.
"Here."
He's setting me down. Furs under me. Soft. Deep. The bed is wide. The whole space is dim.
He's still close.
"Kestria. Stay with her."
"I'm staying."
"Don't let her up."
"I won't."
"If she needs anything—"
"Keer." Kestria. Quiet. "Go."
He doesn't go yet.
His hand is on my face again. The blood is mostly dried now. He's looking at me and his eye is back to ordinary and I cannot read what's in it. I cannot read anything right now.
"Melori."
"I'm here." It comes out wrong. Too quiet.
"You're safe here."
I nod. I think I nod. My head moves a little.
"I have to go."
I nod again.
He doesn't move.
"Go run your pack." It comes out by itself. I don't even know if I meant to say it. "I'll be here."
He doesn't move.
His thumb traces my eyebrow. Once. Slow. The pad of it warm and the blood on his hand dry now.
He doesn't lift the thumb right away.
Stays there. At the corner.
"I'll be back."
"I know."
His thumb drags down—barely—to the bone at my temple. Stops there. The hand isn't ready to come off me yet and he's making it.
Then it's gone.
