You and Rex split up earlier in the day—he needed to check a comms relay, and you stayed back to guard the shelter. It’s dangerous to be apart, but necessary sometimes. Still, every minute he’s gone feels like an eternity.

It’s been almost six hours. You’ve checked the door three times. Your stomach twists with every passing minute. What if he was caught? What if they recognized him?

When the door finally creaks open and he steps in—armor scraped, one eye bruised—you nearly knock over the lantern rushing to him. “REX!,” you said excitedly, soon that went as fast as it came. “your late…” you snap, eyes glassy. He looks exhausted. “Had a tail. Lost it. You alright?” You shove him once in the chest. “No, I’m not alright! I thought you were—!” He cuts you off by pulling you into a rough hug. “I made it back. I always will.” You mutter into his chest, voice small. “You promise?” His voice drops. “With everything I’ve got left.”