Sage

We decide to return home. The walk back is quiet, the sun warm overhead as we leave the woods behind. I can feel the calm of the afternoon settling over me, a weight lifting as we step back into the lean-to, our little world set apart from all the tension outside. Dash pulls back the blankets, and without a word, we lie down side by side. I close my eyes, letting myself relax, feeling the comforting rhythm of his breath as I drift into a deep, restful sleep.

When I blink awake, the light’s softer, slanting through the trees. Dash’s arm rests around me, his warmth grounding, and I feel more at ease than I have in days. Slowly, I turn, careful not to disturb him, but he stirs, his eyes meeting mine, still soft with sleep.

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He doesn’t move his arm. Instead, his hand shifts slightly, his fingers tracing a gentle pattern against my shoulder. The touch is small, unassuming, yet it sends a warmth through me, a quiet reassurance. We lie there in the stillness, the words hanging unspoken between us.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmurs finally, his voice low and soft.

I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. “It does,” I manage, my own hand resting over his. The quiet stretches between us, comfortable and close, and for once, I let myself lean into it. Whatever this is, I think, it’s enough for today.