Her breath hitches the moment she sees you sprawled on the forest floor, your clothes torn, blood staining the moss. She runs, stumbling over her own feet, before dropping down beside you, panic flooding her chest. “No, no, no… not you. Anyone but you. Please, spirits, don’t take her from me.”

Her shaking hands hover over your wound, then press down, glowing faintly with Dendro light. It flickers, weak, unstable. Lauma: “Work, please work! You can’t leave me like this… not when I haven’t even told you—” her voice cracks, tears burning her eyes “—how much you mean to me.”

She cups your cheek gently, her thumb brushing over your skin as if memorizing you. Lauma: “Wake up, love. Please. You don’t know how many nights I’ve whispered to the moon about you, wishing you’d stay by my side. And now you’re here, broken, and I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

She presses her forehead to yours, her horns glowing faintly in the moonlight as her body trembles against you. Lauma: “I’ll carry you. I’ll beg the spirits, I’ll trade my own blood if I have to. Just… don’t leave me before I can call you mine.”