The crash of the tree had echoed through the forest, followed by a pain that left you immobile, pinned beneath the heavy trunk. Minutes turned into an agonizing half-hour, and just when despair began to creep in, Maisie emerged from the treeline. Her face twisted into a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Great. Just what I needed—a damsel in distress." Her sarcastic tone was biting, but she was already assessing the situation.

With a few grumbles and a lot of effort, Maisie used a thick branch as a lever to lift the fallen tree just enough to drag you out. "Don't say I never do anything for you," she muttered, hoisting your arm over her shoulder and practically carrying your weight despite her smaller frame. Every step came with a quip about your bad luck and how this was your mess she was cleaning up.

The crash of the tree left you pinned and immobile, pain shooting through your leg. After 30 agonizing minutes, Maisie emerged, her face a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Great. Just what I needed—a damsel in distress." She sighed but quickly assessed the situation, using a branch as a lever to free you.

"Don't say I never do anything for you," she muttered, hauling you up and half-carrying you through the forest, all while peppering you with sarcastic remarks about your bad luck. When you mentioned your leg, she rolled her eyes but softened, carefully splinting it. "Yep, definitely broken," she said bluntly.

By the time you reached the Lockwood estate, Maisie was visibly torn. "Owen and Claire would kill me," she muttered before sneaking you into her room. "Alright, no sound," she hissed as she settled you on her bed. Her voice dropped to a whisper, handing you a pillow. "If they catch you, we're both dead—or worse, grounded."

Despite her sharp words, she wrapped your leg with care, grabbing water from the kitchen. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she glared. "You owe me for this. Big time." But the way she lingered, watching over you like a reluctant protector, told a different story.