Elena

As the soft light of dawn filters through the trees, I stir against the warmth of Rafe’s chest, reluctant to wake fully. His arm is still draped across my waist, and even in my half-asleep state, I feel the comfort of his steady breathing behind me. It’s peaceful, calm, and for a moment, I let myself indulge in the quiet warmth of it all.

But then, somewhere in the distance, a sharp crack cuts through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of rustling—like something large moving through the underbrush. My body tenses immediately, the cozy cocoon of warmth around me shattered by the sudden jolt of adrenaline.

Rafe is already awake. I feel him stiffen beside me, his arm tightening slightly around my waist before he releases me completely and sits up, his eyes scanning the treeline. Another loud rustling sound, closer this time, makes my heart race. The air is thick with damp leaves, and I hear his breath slow as he hones in on the noise.

“What is that?” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I push myself up onto my elbows. The cold morning air hits my skin, making me shiver, but I ignore it, focusing on the sound of something—or someone—moving closer.

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his expression unreadable but alert. His hand is already on the hilt of his sword, his movements quick but quiet. “Not sure,” he mutters, his voice low. “Stay close.”

The calm of the morning has vanished, replaced by a thick tension that clings to the air. I grab my staff, gripping it tightly as the rustling grows louder, followed by a series of sharp snaps—branches breaking underfoot. Whatever’s out there, it’s moving fast, and heading straight for us.

We stand side by side, both poised for whatever might emerge from the trees. The snap of another branch, then the heavy footfalls reach a fever pitch. My heart pounds as a figure stumbles through the underbrush, crashing into the clearing.

It’s not a creature or a threat, but a man—disheveled, breathless, and wide-eyed with panic. He collapses to his knees in front of us, gasping for air.

“Help…” he croaks, clutching his side. “Please… they’re coming…”

Rafe steps forward, sword still drawn but his voice steady. “Who’s coming?”

The man looks up, his eyes wide with fear, as he struggles to speak. “Bandits… A whole group. They’re attacking the village.” His voice is thin, a hoarse whisper from what seems like hours of running. The man’s face is smeared with dirt and sweat, his chest heaving with each breath.

I exchange a quick glance with Rafe, my stomach sinking. The quiet, peaceful morning is over, and whatever plans we had for today have just been swept away.

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Rafe’s expression is grim, but there’s a calm determination in his eyes. “Looks like we’re not making it to the village under peaceful terms,” he mutters.

I nod, already gathering my gear. “Let’s go.”

The village inn is cozy, warm with the scent of woodsmoke and stew drifting from the hearth downstairs. After the chaos of the morning and the skirmish with the bandits, this quiet feels like a luxury. The innkeeper, grateful for our help, insisted we take the room for free, and I didn’t need much convincing. A real bed, after days of travel and cold ground, feels like a blessing.

We settle in, and even though the fire keeps the room warm, Rafe and I still find ourselves close. It’s not about the temperature anymore. It’s just what we do now.

I stretch out on the bed on my back, feeling the ache of muscles that haven’t quite recovered from our fight earlier. Rafe moves beside me, his presence calm and steady as always, but this time, there’s something different in the air—a quiet satisfaction that lingers after a job well done. He lies on his side next to me, his hand resting on my stomach. I lift my legs and drape them over his thighs, our bodies falling into a natural rhythm.

“That was some impressive sword work earlier,” I say, breaking the silence. My voice is soft, almost sleepy, but there’s genuine admiration in it. “You looked terrifying out there. I think the bandits were already reconsidering their life choices before you even swung your sword.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Scaring them is half the battle. Less work for me.” His lips twitch into a small smirk, and I catch a glimmer of dry humor in his eyes.

I smile, rolling onto my side to face him. His arm slides across my waist like it’s second nature, and I settle into the warmth of him, our legs tangling a bit. “Guess I’m lucky you’re on my side, then.”

His hand tightens slightly on my waist, his expression softening. “You weren’t so bad yourself. That spell you cast… took out half their numbers before they knew what hit them.”

I grin, my heart warming at the compliment. “Guess we make a pretty good team,” I murmur, the words slipping out without much thought.

Rafe’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there’s something unspoken between us. “Seems like it.”

We’re quiet again, the crackle of the fire filling the space between us. It feels different, lying here in a bed instead of under the stars. More intimate, somehow. The walls around us seem to press closer, making the space feel both smaller and safer.

Rafe’s hand tightens slightly on my waist, his gaze softening as he looks at me. “You really saved the day back there,” he adds after a moment, his voice quiet. “If we’d met the seer with all those injuries, we’d have been in no shape to ask for help.”

I smile at his compliment, feeling that same warmth spread through me. It’s not just about surviving the fight—it’s about how we worked together, how easily we’ve fallen into this rhythm. And as strange as it sounds, I’m grateful for it. Grateful for him.

“We did good,” I whisper, my eyes feeling heavy. “And now we have a good lead on our next move. That seer seemed like the real deal, wouldn’t you agree?” I mumble.

Rafe hums in agreement, his body relaxing against mine. The tension of the fight fades, replaced by a quiet satisfaction, and I let my eyes close as his warmth lulls me closer to sleep. There’s something grounding about the weight of his arm on my waist, something that feels like an anchor in the midst of our unpredictable journey.

In the fading light of the fire, as the room settles into darkness, I realize that it’s not just our survival I feel grateful for. It’s these moments—quiet, shared, with someone who understands the weight of what we’re doing.

As sleep begins to claim me, I feel him shift slightly, his thumb brushing absently along my side. The gesture is almost tender, and it sends a warmth through me that lingers.