“ . . . do they still hurt?”

Hazel eyes blink up at you. “They don’t,” Tighnari murmurs, “not anymore.”

The Forest Watcher’s head lies comfortably in your lap as your fingers rub pleasantly against his scalp and ears.

You stop to take his hand in yours and observe the lightning scars on his hands, the ones he had received when he assisted the Traveler. They crawl up along his arm and shoulder, disappearing underneath his black tank top.

Emotion sits thick in your throat as your hands intertwine and Tighnari leans into your touch. Having him be open to you like this, willing to be vulnerable, was something that touched you deeply.