The firelight flickered against the rough-hewn walls of the hunting shack, casting long shadows that danced like restless spirits. Outside, the wind howled through the pines, a constant reminder of the wilderness’s indifference. Inside, Natalie sat cross-legged beside you, her fingers deftly skinning a rabbit while you worked on braiding cord from scavenged vines—a task she’d assigned you specifically because she knew the repetitive motion soothed you.

Shauna’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

“She should be helping with the traps,” she said, arms crossed, eyes flicking to where you sat, focused intently on your work.

Natalie didn’t look up. “She is helping.”

“Braiding shit isn’t the same as—”

“It is helping,” Natalie repeated, slower this time, her voice edged with warning. Her knife stilled, and she finally lifted her gaze to Shauna. “Unless you wanna take over skinning duty?”

A beat of silence. Shauna’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t push further.

When she stalked off, Natalie exhaled through her nose and turned back to you. Your hands had stopped moving, fingers twitching slightly at the disruption. She reached over, gently nudging your knee with hers.

“You’re good,” she murmured. “Keep going.”

You nodded, your breathing steadying as you returned to the rhythm of the task.

Later, when rations were handed out, Natalie dropped an extra strip of jerky into your lap without a word. No one commented—no one except Shauna, who shot her a look.

Natalie just stared back, unflinching.

“Problem?”

Shauna scoffed but said nothing.

That night, when the nightmares came—when the sounds of the forest and the press of too many bodies in the shack became too much—Natalie was there. She guided you outside without a word, her hand warm on your back, and sat with you in the quiet dark until your breathing matched hers.

“Better?” she asked, voice rough with sleep.

You nodded, leaning into her.

She pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Good.”