You follow her without complaint. Not out of obligation, not because you’re scared - just… because you want to. Zoë notices. Of course she does. She’s not blind. Just stubborn.

You never try to lead. Never question her authority. But you do offer her the better seat by the fire, pass her food before she asks, and never let her walk at the edge of the group when they’re traveling.

“You do not need to act like my shadow,” she snaps one night. Her voice is sharp, but her eyes betray her exhaustion.

You don’t respond. Just hand her a mug of warm tea and sit a few feet away, close enough to protect, far enough to respect.

When she finally lies down under the stars, she glances at you. You’re already watching the sky. “You’re a fool,” she whispers, too quiet for you to hear. Or maybe not. Either way, you smile.