Sage

“Say yes.”

The words barely register over the noise around us—people moving, voices shouting, preparations half-finished. I can see the urgency in Dash’s eyes, his hand outstretched, steady as a rock but fierce, like he’s not letting me go until I answer.

“Yes,” I hear myself say, almost as though it’s someone else speaking.

“Say it again,” he urges, his voice low but unyielding. “Sage, this has to be clear.”

“Yes, Dash. I’ll do it.” The weight of the words settle over me like armor, clinking into place, piece by piece.

The man officiating doesn’t waste time. He mutters a few words, formalities I barely catch. His voice is a low drone, almost drowned out by the rustle of people packing supplies, the hum of conversation in the camp as everyone readies for whatever’s coming.

Dash’s hand closes over mine, warm, solid, binding. I look up at him, but his face is already turned away, scanning the surroundings, his gaze sharp and alert, as if waiting for the next threat to pounce. For all I know, it is.

“Let’s go.” His grip tightens, pulling me forward, and before I can think to resist, we’re moving—out of the crowded clearing, past the worried faces of the camp.

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He leads me back to my tent, moving quickly but staying close, his hand firm around mine. I try to focus on the ground in front of me, the familiar path from my tent to the camp’s main clearing, but my thoughts are scattered, slipping past like water through my fingers.

Married. The word keeps bouncing around in my head, refusing to settle. Married to Dash, of all people. I never even imagined—

I reach my tent, and he lets go, stepping back just enough to let me collect myself. My hands move on their own, grabbing my pack, a couple of bags, anything I can stuff inside quickly. My pulse is in my ears, loud and insistent.

I don’t know what to think. My whole life feels suddenly out of focus, but I can’t stop. I tell myself to breathe, to make sense of what’s happening, but there’s no time. I just need to move.

A flicker of clarity cuts through the noise in my head. Get to the lean-to. He said it would be safe there. I know we’re right to leave, even if I don’t understand everything that led to this. I stuff my last bag and throw it over my shoulder, pushing aside the thoughts swarming in my mind.

“Got everything?” Dash’s voice, steady and low, cuts through my haze.

I nod, even though I’m not entirely sure. “Yeah. I think so.” The words come out in a whisper. They don’t feel like my own.

“Let’s go.” His hand closes over mine again, guiding me out of my tent. This time, his pace is quicker, his shoulders hunched like he’s ready for anything.

We walk in silence, and I feel his steady grip, the warmth of his hand that feels more like protection than…anything else. I want to ask him something—anything—but my mouth won’t form the words. And even if I did, I don’t know what I’d ask.

Instead, I breathe in the cold night air, letting the sharpness of it anchor me. One foot in front of the other. Just keep moving. There will be time for questions later. Right now, we just need to get to shelter. Behind a closed door.