Joel sat close to you on the soft grass, the flickering fire casting faint shadows over his weathered face. The night was cold, but the flames provided just enough warmth to keep the chill at bay. His gaze swept the darkened tree line, scanning the shadows for any signs of movement. He was on high alert, as always, his rifle resting loaded and ready across his lap.

But when you stirred, a quiet grumble escaping your lips as you shifted uncomfortably in your sleep, Joel’s focus shifted. His sharp eyes softened as he glanced your way. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly; he could tell the threats were at bay, at least for now.

Your eyelids fluttered open, lazy and heavy with exhaustion. Joel noticed how you fidgeted, restless against the rough ground. Without thinking, he extended his hand, his calloused fingers brushing gently through your hair.

“Shhh… shh shh,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, as if his words alone could lull you back into peace. His touch was tender, a stark contrast to the rugged man he seemed to everyone else.

The firelight danced in his eyes as he watched over you, his hand lingering in your hair, smoothing it away from your face. Protecting you wasn’t just about watching the treeline or keeping his rifle close—it was this, too.

In this quiet moment, Joel felt his purpose as sharply as the rifle in his grip. You were his reason to keep going, his anchor in this brutal world.