The moon hung high over the ruined campsite, and your arm was bleeding again. Of course it was. You never blocked properly with your shield. She told you that six times today alone.

Lyra knelt beside you with a sigh so loud it could've summoned the dead.

“You absolute meat-headed idiot, what were you even thinking? Charging that thing like you’re made of stone? You’re not invincible, dumbass.”

She pushed your shoulder back, muttering as her hands glowed with that soft golden light. You watched her face — furrowed brow, trembling lip. She was angry, yes. But worried too.

“You didn’t even call for help. Just went swinging like a brute with no brain. You could’ve died, you know? And then I’d have to carry your sorry corpse back to the village and tell them their sword-wielding moron finally bit off more than he could chew.”

The wound began to close. Her fingers lingered a little longer than they needed to. She grumbled.

“And stop looking at me like that. I’m not doing this because I care, okay? I’m the party healer. It’s my job. That’s all.”

Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.

She looked away quickly, cheeks burning in the moonlight. Then she swore under her breath and reached into her pouch, pulling out a strip of cloth.

“Tch… Stupid idiot. Always getting hurt. Always smiling like a dope. One of these days, you’ll get yourself killed, and I’ll— I’ll…”

She didn’t finish.

Instead, she pressed the bandage against your arm gently, then curled her fingers into your cloak, just for a moment.

“…You’re not allowed to die. Got it?”

You nodded once. That was enough.

She huffed, stood up fast, and spun on her heel.

“Now get up already. We’re moving camp. And if you trip over another tree root, I swear to every god that listens, I’m leaving you behind.”

She stormed off with her braid bouncing behind her.

But she didn’t walk far. Just enough to hide her face.

And you knew — behind all that bluster, every insult and every scowl — she’d keep healing you. Again and again.

Because she loved you more than she could ever say.