The sun had long since begun its descent when Hassian heard the knock on the door of the conservatory. It was sharp. Urgent.
Tau was already on alert, ears forward.
When he opened it, he found Simon standing there, winded and pale.

“It’s Lyra,” Simon said without preamble. “She’s okay. Kind of. She twisted her ankle out in Bahari. It looked bad, and she didn’t want us to come get you, but—well, we’re not idiots.”

Hassian was already reaching for his boots. “Where?”

“By the west ridge. Near that patch of tall reeds. Saraya and Lexi are with her, keeping pressure off it.”

“I’ll find her.”

Simon opened his mouth to say something more—maybe reassurance, maybe apology—but Hassian was already moving.

He found her within twenty minutes, cradled on a bed of moss beneath a willow tree, her foot propped on a rolled cloak. Lexi was crouched beside her, while Saraya stood nearby with her bow slung loose over her shoulder. The moment Lyra saw him coming, she sat up straighter—too fast, wincing. “Hassian—”

He was at her side in three strides, kneeling. “Don’t,” he said quietly, his hand brushing her knee to steady her. “Don’t move yet.”

“I told them not to make a big deal—”

“Too bad,” he said, his voice a low, tight thing. “They did the right thing.”

She blinked. “It’s just a sprain.”

“You’re limping. You’re in pain. That’s enough for me.”

She quieted, not because she agreed, but because there was something in his expression that stopped her—like if he let himself speak more, his voice might shake. He examined her ankle with practiced hands, gentle but thorough. When she winced, his jaw clenched. He said nothing, just steadied her with a hand on her calf.

Then he stood. “I’m carrying you.”

“Hassian—”

“No argument.”

Saraya stepped forward. “We offered. She was too stubborn.”

Hassian gave Lyra a dry look. “Noted.”

Before she could protest again, he slid one arm behind her knees and the other at her shoulders, lifting her effortlessly. She clutched at his tunic as he stood.

“This is humiliating,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“This is me taking care of you,” he said, beginning the trek toward the conservatory. “Get used to it.”

He walked slowly, careful of every root and uneven stone. His hands never wavered, keeping her balanced and supported, and occasionally, when her grip loosened, he tightened his hold just enough to remind her she was safe.

“You’re spoiling me,” she whispered softly.

“Not spoiling,” he murmured. “Protecting. And you deserve it.”

She tried to adjust, but her ankle throbbed. He noticed, leaning his forehead briefly against hers. “Hold still for me,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”

Lyra’s heart caught at the intimacy of it—the closeness, the care that went beyond mere words. She relaxed slightly against him, feeling safe in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

They passed the old oak where he had once shown her how to track footprints in the mud. She brushed against the bark, teasing, “Remember this?” They reached a narrow stream, and he carefully hopped over, holding her securely. “Almost there,” he murmured. Her fingers gripped his tunic tighter, and he allowed a small smile to curve at her closeness, though his gaze stayed sharp, alert to every step.

By the time he reached the door, Tau had already run ahead, waiting like a sentinel. Hassian nudged it open with his boot and brought her inside, lowering her gently to the bed.

He removed her boots, rolled a pillow beneath her ankle, and fetched a basin of cool water. She tried to protest—“You don’t have to do all this”—but he ignored her.

After wrapping her ankle with a linen strip, he pulled up a chair and sat beside her.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said. “But you’ll have to stay off it for a day or two. I’ll take care of everything else.”

She stared at him. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he said simply. “Hunting. Cooking. Kaja. Tau. You. You just sit there and look annoyed about it.”

She softened. “I’m not annoyed. I just... I hate feeling helpless.”

“You’re not helpless,” he said. “You’re injured. There’s a difference.”

Then, quieter, “And I need you safe more than I need you tough.”

Lyra reached for his hand. He didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled around hers, grounding, solid.
“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her temple. “And I’ve got you.”

Visitors and Warnings

Two days later, Lyra was still under strict orders to rest her ankle. Hassian hadn’t enforced them like a tyrant—but he had carried her from the bed to the couch in the house that morning without asking, tossed a blanket across her legs, and brought her a mug of tea like it was part of his daily hunting routine.

Kaja was curled beside her, Tau nearby at the door, ever watchful.

The quiet was broken when footsteps approached and Saraya’s voice called out, “We come bearing gifts and gossip!”

Hassian glanced up from his seat by the fireplace. “Brace yourself,” he muttered under his breath as Lyra smiled and straightened.

The door creaked open and in poured her friends—Saraya, Simon, Lexi, and Rex—all grinning and laden with snacks.

“We didn’t want our favorite cripple to feel left out,” Lexi announced, dropping a basket on the table with a flourish.

“I’m not a cripple,” Lyra said, laughing. “I’m healing.”

“‘Healing’ while being waited on hand and foot by Mr. Majiri Dreamboat,” Rex quipped. “Honestly? You win.”

Hassian’s eyes were fixed on Lyra. “This patient has an attitude,” he said flatly. “I’m considering releasing her back into the wild.”

Simon chuckled. “You’d miss her after an hour.”

Hassian’s eyes flicked up briefly. “Ten minutes,” he admitted.

That earned him a round of grins.

They settled in, pulling out bundles of fried dumplings and fig jam bars. Kaja immediately started trying to charm treats out of everyone, and Tau looked vaguely insulted by her lack of discipline.

“So,” Lexi said between bites, “we had a wild run-in with a wandering bluebristle yesterday. Thing came out of nowhere, flapping like a demon.”

“And then,” Saraya added, “Simon got his foot stuck in a root and nearly got pancaked.”

“I meant to do that,” Simon said proudly.

Everyone laughed, even Hassian—softly, under his breath.

As the story tapered off, Rex leaned back on his elbows. “Okay, but seriously. I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?” Lyra asked.

He grinned wide. “The Elderwood. Freaking huge lizards that run on their hind legs? We’ve got to see that.”

“Oh,” Lyra said, eyes lighting up. “That does sound like a blast. Count me in—just as soon as I’m steady on this ankle again.”

Saraya held up a hand. “No pressure. We’re not going without you.”

Simon nodded. “We go together. We leave together.” He glanced toward Hassian, as if seeking approval.

Hassian, silent until now, finally lifted his head. His expression was unreadable. “You’re stepping up the stakes. The Elderwood isn’t like Bahari.”

Lexi tilted her head. “We’ve faced dangers before.”

“Not like this,” Hassian said quietly. “There are things in the Elderwood you can’t imagine. That place doesn’t play fair. It’s ancient. Hungry. Smart. It’s taken out experienced hunters before.”

The room sobered.

Lyra looked at him, and though she didn’t say a word, he knew she understood what he meant. His momma, Taylin.

She rested her hand lightly on her bandaged ankle. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, I’m just glad to see you guys.”

The topic shifted after that—stories, teasing, throwing snacks for Kaja and Tau—but the shadow of Hassian’s words lingered.

When her friends finally left with hugs and promises to visit again soon, Lyra sat in thoughtful silence while Hassian stood at the door, watching them go.
He knew exactly what was coming.

After They Leave

The house was quiet again. Tau had settled back by the door, head on his paws. Kaja curled beside Lyra, chewing on a strip of dried meat one of her friends had smuggled in.
Hassian hadn’t spoken since the others left.

Lyra watched him, standing at the door like he was still tracking shadows. When he finally turned, his eyes met hers, unreadable but storm-dark with thought.
She patted the couch beside her. “Come sit. I know you’ve got something to say.”

He did. So he sat.

“I don’t want you to go,” Hassian said, voice low but steady. “Plain and simple. I don’t want you near the Elderwood.”

She nodded. “I figured.”

“But I won’t stop you.” He looked down at his hands, then over at hers, resting near his on the cushion. “That’s not who I want to be with you. I’m here to love you, not to control you.”

Lyra laced her fingers through his. “We’re not heading there to hunt beasts, you know. Just ogopuu.”

“Doesn’t stop beasts from hunting you,” Hassian said. “You don’t have to go looking for danger in that place—it finds you anyway.”

Lyra leaned her head back against the cushion. “Is there a part of it that’s safer? Maybe we can compromise. Still go, but stick to a safer area?”

Hassian sighed, deep and heavy. “There are places that are…. less bad. And places that are worse. But the whole forest is full of old magic and strange things we don’t understand. It’s not just wild, Lyra. It’s wrong in ways that don’t always make sense until it’s too late.”

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “How about this: I promise to stay out of any spot you tell me not to go to.”

His brow lifted slightly.

“I’m serious,” she said. “We’ve hunted across every inch of Bahari, but I’ve never stepped foot in the thickets. Not on purpose, anyway. Once we got turned around, but as soon as I realized where we were I headed in the opposite direction.”

He studied her face, something tight in his chest slowly unspooling. “Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll agree to that. I really don’t have a choice, do I?”

She smiled softly. “Not when you’ve got a woman with a will of steel.”

His mouth quirked, but his next words carried no humor. “Just promise me something else.”

“Anything.”

“Baby, if something doesn’t feel right... if your gut says get out—do it. Don’t wait. Don’t second-guess. Don’t try to be a hero. Just get out. Quickly.”

“I promise.”

He nodded, rubbed the back of his neck, and gave her a dry look. “I can already see I’m going to be making a lot of arrows when you’re out there. Just to keep from pacing a trench.”

Lyra leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. “Guess I better bring you back something special to make it worth all the stress.”

“I don’t need trophies,” Hassian murmured, wrapping his arm around her. “I need you to just be safe.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that—silent, connected, the quiet of the house stretching around them like a shield. Outside, the sun dipped lower, painting the walls with warm gold, and for once, Hassian allowed himself to imagine her safe, smiling, returning from the hunt without incident.