The fire crackled softly beside the small canvas tent, its amber glow trembling across the rough earth and the tangled roots of pine trees that surrounded the clearing. Shadows leapt and twisted against the worn fabric walls, mirroring the restless dance of leaves overhead. The scent of burning wood mingled with the sharp, resinous pine, heavy in the cool evening air that crept down from the darkening sky.

Inside the tent, Jasper Jordan lay propped up on his elbows, his pale face drawn and slick with sweat. The ragged edges of blood-soaked bandages wrapped tightly across his chest. Despite the steady drip of crimson staining the cloth, his breathing had evened out, less ragged than before. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured waves, each inhalation a quiet victory against the dull ache that still gnawed at his ribs.

The faint light caught the curve of his jaw, the sharp line softened only by the flush of exertion and the sheen of faint sweat. His dark hair fell in loose strands across his forehead, damp and unkempt from hours of exertion and blood loss. His eyes, deep pools of stormy gray, remained fixed on the small opening of the tent where movement stirred.

You approached silently, the soft crunch of pine needles underfoot muted by the damp earth. Kneeling beside him, you offered the canteen with hands steady despite the tension coiling in your chest. The cool metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from his skin, the quiet clink of water inside a small comfort in the otherwise still evening.

Jasper’s gaze lifted to meet yours, catching the fading light of the sunset that filtered through the trees, a dusky gold halo framing his face. There was something fragile in the way his eyes searched yours, something raw beneath the veneer of his soldier’s grit. Whether it was the haze of painkillers or the genuine warmth of his smile, your heart skipped, a sudden flutter that took you by surprise.