The alcove was secure, cloaked in shadow. Kael sat near the edge of their position, his rifle resting across his lap, crimson eyes scanning the horizon with relentless focus.

Behind him, Ravik sat rigid against the rock, arms crossed, breathing uneven.

Kael shifted, glancing over his shoulder. He could see the faint sheen of sweat on Ravik’s brow, the way his jaw clenched even in supposed rest. The younger Yawr wasn’t sleeping.

“Ravik.”

Ravik didn’t respond immediately, but after a beat, his violet eyes blinked open, glowing faintly in the dim light. “What?”

Kael tilted his head, studying him. “You need sleep. We’ve got another long day ahead, and I can’t have you faltering.”

“I’m fine,” Ravik muttered, though his tone lacked conviction. He sat up, bracing his elbows on his knees, but his posture screamed exhaustion.

Kael watched him, and saw the tension worn like armor. He wasn’t fooled by the bravado. Something deeper was gnawing at him, and while Kael wasn’t sure if it was the day’s kill or something else entirely, he knew one thing: Ravik wouldn’t admit to it, not outright.

Kael rose, unfastened his jacket, and stepped forward—silent, deliberate. The move caught Ravik’s attention, his sharp gaze tracking Kael’s every movement.

“What are you doing?” Ravik asked, his voice edged with suspicion.

Kael crouched close. Ravik felt his warmth through the chill. Without hesitation, Kael draped the heavy fabric of his jacket over Ravik’s shoulders, the weight settling around him.

Ravik stiffened, his pulse quickening. The gesture carried an intimacy that unsettled him. He wasn’t used to this mix of authority and care.

“You’re not invincible. No one is.”

Ravik swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the edge of the jacket as he gripped it instinctively, his fingers curling around the worn fabric. “I don’t need your help,” he muttered, but the protest was weak, his voice betraying him.

Kael leaned in, his frame looming just enough to remind Ravik who was in control of this moment. His crimson eyes locked onto Ravik’s, steady and unyielding. “Sleep. That’s not negotiable.”

The proximity set Ravik on edge, but not in the way he expected. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, his muscles tensing as his breath hitched. Kael’s position—crouched over him, close enough to block out the rest of the world—felt charged, dominant in a way that made Ravik’s pride scream and something deeper stir.

“You’re hovering,” Ravik said sharply, his tone defensive as he shifted slightly.

“Is it working?”

Ravik’s jaw tightened, his hands gripping the jacket more tightly. He hated how exposed he felt in this moment, how much Kael’s presence unsettled him—not because it was unwelcome, but because he didn’t want to admit how much he liked it.

Kael’s smirk faded. His tone dropped. “Ravik… You’re strong. But even the strongest need someone to lean on every now and then. This isn’t weakness. It’s survival.”

Ravik’s chest tightened. He looked away, his violet eyes darting to the rocky ground. “I don’t want to be seen like this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Kael’s hand settled on Ravik’s shoulder—firm, grounding. “Then don’t let anyone see… Except me.”

Ravik’s gaze snapped back to Kael’s, his breath catching at the intensity in the older Yawr’s crimson eyes. There was no judgment there, no pity—just unwavering resolve and something deeper, something that made Ravik’s pulse quicken.

Kael held his gaze. Steady. Unmoving. “You don’t have to carry this alone. Not here. Not now.”

Ravik hesitated, his pride warring with the undeniable comfort Kael’s words offered. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of exhaustion. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t push Kael away, either.

Kael’s grip on his shoulder tightened briefly before he stood, stepping back but not far. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here.”

Ravik nodded, pulling the jacket closer around him as he settled back against the rock. His mind still churned, but the warmth of the jacket and the steady presence of Kael nearby dulled the edges of his thoughts. Ravik closed his eyes as Kael’s steady footsteps kept the dark from closing in.

The wind dulled before dawn, no longer tearing; just sighing low across the stone.

Ravik sat at the edge of their alcove, Kael’s jacket still slung over his shoulders. His rifle lay across his knees, hands steady now, though the tension hadn’t left him. The canyon stretched ahead, empty, layered in shadow.

Behind him, Kael slept. Upright, head tilted slightly, weapon within reach. The commander looked different at rest. Less guarded. Still Yawr, but quieter.

The moment kept replaying: the sudden weight, the flash of steel, the breath caught in someone else’s throat. The sims never accounted for warmth. For weight. For silence after.

Would Zarion know? What I did? What it cost? The thought bit sharp. Would he mention it in the next transmission? Would he care... or worse, understand?

Of course he knows. And he better not call me adequate this time.

Ravik scanned the horizon again, seeking a distraction. Kael’s words echoed—feeling this doesn’t make you weak—but they didn’t erase the blood from memory.

A rock fell in the dark. Ravik’s rifle snapped to position. His breath hitched, then steadied. Nothing moved but the wind. Behind him, Kael shifted in sleep, the sound quiet but grounding.

Ravik breathed deep, letting the cold settle into his chest. He couldn’t relax, but he didn’t feel entirely alone now, either.

That mattered more than he wanted to admit.