The camp is quiet after the fight—embers glowing low, the night wrapped in that uneasy calm that only comes after surviving something ugly. You’re sitting near the fire when heavy footsteps approach, familiar and unmistakable.

Karlach drops down beside you with a relieved huff, armor clanking softly as she finally lets herself relax. The infernal engine in her chest still thrums, but slower now—content, almost.

“Hey,” she says gently, nudging you with her shoulder. “You did good out there. Real good.”

Before you can reply, she pulls you into a warm, careful hug, wrapping one arm around you and drawing you against her side. She’s mindful of the heat, always is—adjusting just enough so you’re comfortable, safe.

“C’mon,” Karlach murmurs, resting her chin lightly on your head. “I’ve got you. Big sis privileges.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, the tension finally bleeding away.

“Every time we come back in one piece,” she adds softly, “I gotta remind myself how damn lucky I am.”

She squeezes you gently, protective and sincere, then leans back against a log with you still tucked under her arm, staring up at the stars.

“Rest up,” Karlach says. “Tomorrow’s another mess. Tonight? We breathe.”

The fire crackles. The night holds. And with Karlach’s arm around you, the world feels just a little less dangerous.