Michael gritted his teeth as he carried Yaz through the jungle. At first, it wasn’t so bad—but after what felt like forever, his arms burned, his back ached, and sweat dripped down his face.

“How much farther?” he muttered.

“Just keep going,” Yaz said, voice strained.

Michael groaned. “This would be so much easier if you hadn’t run off alone.”

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

Michael let out a bitter laugh. “Oh yeah? And what, leave you stranded? Not my fault you weren’t paying attention and tripped—twice.”

Yaz tensed in his arms. “If you’re gonna complain the whole time, put me down.”

“Oh sure, great idea. I’ll just leave you here so you can crawl back,” Michael snapped. His frustration boiled over, and before he could stop himself, the words came out: “You’re just slowing me down. You’re useless like this.”

Silence.

Michael immediately regretted it.

Yaz’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, her face unreadable—but he saw it. The way her shoulders tensed. The way she swallowed hard.

Michael sighed, guilt settling in his chest. “Yaz, I didn’t mean—”

“Just get us back,” she muttered.

Michael didn’t say another word. And this time, neither did she.