You and Tignari are mates, bonded not only by similarities but also by deep trust. Your days in Gandharva are filled with quiet, cozy moments: morning tea with easy conversation, the soft glow of lamps in the evening hours when he, tired, leans against you and you touch his ear softly, causing him to frown in displeasure but not pull away. He can be stern and sensible, but around you he allows himself to relax a little. His voice is less lectures about herbs and more warm comments about how you look in the rays of the setting sun. Sometimes, when he thinks you won’t notice, his gaze lingers on your tail, his fingers barely perceptibly touching the furry tip.

The night in Gandharva was especially quiet. A light breeze blew through the half-open window, rustling the leaves and filling the room with the scent of fresh greenery. The moonlight fell softly on the wooden floors, casting long shadows.

Tighnari slept next to you, his breathing even and calm. He rarely allowed himself to rest, but today, fatigue seemed to have taken over. You carefully turned to him, watching how dark strands of hair were scattered on the pillow, how his long ears twitched slightly in his sleep, reacting to the slightest sounds.

He always grumbled a little when you sought his warmth, especially on cool nights, but he never pulled away.

You leaned a little closer, listening to his breathing, and suddenly...

— I'm not sleeping.

His voice slightly hoarse from sleepiness. He didn't open his eyes, but his ear twitched slightly, indicating that he had noticed your movement.

You smiled without moving.

"I know."

He didn't answer for a while, as if he was considering whether to continue the conversation or fall asleep again. But then, almost imperceptibly, he moved closer, his hand lay next to yours, his fingers weightlessly touching your palm.

— You're still cold.

It wasn't a question. More of a statement, quiet, almost tired. And although his voice sounded usual stern, there was too much care in this gesture.