[Third Person].
Draven watched redith finish the last spoonful of porridge like it was a chore she had been sentenced to.
Then, she pushed the bowl toward him with a dramatic sigh. "There. I did it. Are you satisfied now, Healer?"
Draven took the bowl, set it aside calmly, then reached for the tray again. Without a word, he lifted the lid he had earlier closed with such finality.
The aroma hit redith instantly once again.
Draven didn’t look at her. He picked up a small portion of the at, tore it carefully with his fingers, and brought it toward her mouth.
"Open," he said.
She blinked. "I can feed myself."
"I know," he replied evenly. "But not now."
Her lips parted anyway. The first bite made her groan softly before she could stop herself.
Draven arched a brow. "Dramatic."
"You denied this on purpose," she accused, chewing. "That’s psychological warfare."
"No," he said, already preparing the next bite. "That was dical discipline."
Draven fed her slowly, deliberately—at first, then grains, then roots—watching her reactions like he was asuring more than appetite.
But every ti she reached for the plate, he pulled it just out of reach.
She glared at him. "You’re enjoying this."
"I won’t deny it," he said quietly.
That shut her up. She ate what he offered, when he offered it, rolling her eyes only once when he insisted she chew properly.
A few monts later, he asked with his eyes peering into hers, "How do you really feel?"
Instantly, redith understood the question and what exactly he was asking about.
She hesitated for a mont because saying her feelings would make it real. Then, she swallowed a gulp.
"I feel... tired. Embarrassed. And stupid right now."
Draven paused. "I know why you feel those. But I want you to know sothing: I can deal with betrayal. I can deal with secrets."
Then, he took in a sharp breath and continued honestly, "But watching you lie there, not breathing properly—" His jaw tightened. "That’s not sothing I can train myself to endure. So, don’t feel those."
She looked down, guilt blooming fresh in her chest. "I’m truly sorry for everything."
"I know." His voice softened instantly. "That’s why I’m here. Not angry. Just... shaken."
Her eyes burned. But before she could say anything else, the door creaked open.
Dennis’s head poked in, ssy-haired and squinting like the light personally offended him.
"Well," he drawled, scanning the room. "Good news—you’re alive. Bad news—my head is still banging."
redith let out a small laugh despite herself.
But then, Dennis froze mid-step. His eyes dropped to the tray. Then to Draven’s hand. Then to redith’s mouth.
"Oh."
A slow grin spread across his face. "So this is what nearly drowning gets you. Personal feeding services."
Draven finally looked at him, giving him a flat warning look.
Dennis raised both hands. "Relax. I’m just impressed. I didn’t even get water brought to when I was dying last night."
"You were hungover," Draven said. "That was self-inflicted."
Dennis walked in anyway, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. His eyes flicked over redith carefully now—checking her colour, her posture, the fact that she was upright and eating.
"...You scared us," he said, quieter.
redith smiled weakly. "I scared myself."
Dennis nodded once, then imdiately ruined the mont.
"Still," he added, pointing vaguely toward the river’s direction, "thank the moons my brother forced you into swimming lessons months ago. Otherwise, today, we would be having a very awkward fun—"
Draven closed his eyes. "Dennis," he said slowly, "if you finish that sentence—"
"I’m kidding!" Dennis laughed. "Mostly. Look, she is alive, breathing, and being fed like royalty. That’s a win."
redith snorted. Draven glanced at her, caught the sound, and shook his head. "You’re encouraging him."
"He’s... distracting," she admitted. "In a good way."
Dennis bowed dramatically. "My greatest talent."
He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, lowering his voice just a little. "But seriously. Don’t pull stunts like that again. You’re allowed to be terrifyingly powerful, just not suicidal."
redith’s smile faded. She nodded. "I didn’t an to—"
"I know," Dennis cut in gently. "That’s what scares us."
The room fell quiet again.
Then, Draven picked up another piece of at and held it out to redith without looking away from Dennis. "She’s resting today."
Dennis nodded, then shifted his gaze to redith. "Good. Then I will leave you two alone before Alpha Overprotective here decides to ban visitors."
He paused at the door, glanced back, and added lightly, "For the record? If you ever want to scare him again, just keep almost dying. Works like a charm."
"Out," Draven said.
Dennis laughed and slipped out, shutting the door behind him.
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this ti. Draven turned back to redith. "Open."
She did, then murmured around the bite, "He ans well."
"I know," Draven said. "That’s why I tolerate him."
She smiled faintly.
---
When Draven finished feeding redith, he set the tray aside and wiped his fingers on a cloth. His expression shifted subtly, but she caught it.
"I think we should return ho tomorrow," he said.
redith frowned slightly. "Tomorrow?"
"I’m not comfortable staying longer," he admitted. "Not after what happened today."
She didn’t argue. Truthfully, the thought of staying near the river or any body of water made her chest tighten.
The mory of being dragged under, of helplessness, still lingered like a bruise she couldn’t see.
"I understand," she said quietly. Then added, "But you will have to speak to my grandma about it."
He nodded. "I will do that later."
Then he straightened and looked at her with that familiar, unreadable calm. "For now, we are going for a walk."
Her brows shot up. "No, we are not. I’m tired."
"You’ve been sleeping all day," he countered evenly. "And you just ate enough food to feed a small pack."
"That’s dical recovery," she argued.
"That’s an excuse."
Before she could protest again, he reached out toward her.
redith squeaked and imdiately rolled to the other side of the bed, narrowly escaping his grasp.
"Oh no you don’t," Draven said, already moving.
She laughed despite herself, scrambling across the mattress. "You’re cruel. Absolutely cruel."
He lunged forward, but she grabbed his arm instead, harder than she intended, and yanked.
Draven lost his balance. And for a split second, there was only surprise. Then he fell forward, landing squarely on top of her.
The bed dipped beneath their combined weight. redith let out a breathless laugh, her hands instinctively bracing against his chest.
Draven froze, hovering just enough not to crush her, his arms planted on either side of her head.
Their faces were suddenly very close. Too close. Then, her laughter faded into sothing quieter.
Draven looked down at her, his expression unreadable, then sothing warm flickered there. "You cheated."
She smiled up at him with uneven breath. "You started it."
For a mont, neither of them moved. The tension between them wasn’t sharp this ti; it was soft, threaded with exhaustion, relief, and sothing fragile they were both afraid to na.
Finally, Draven exhaled and shifted his weight slightly so he wasn’t pressing her into the mattress.
"Five minutes," he said. "Then we walk."
redith groaned dramatically. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re not getting out of it," he replied. But he didn’t get up right away.
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