The morning light spilled like melted gold across the weathered planks of the porch, casting soft shadows between the cracks and dappling the surrounding brush with warmth. The air held a lingering chill, crisp against your cheeks and threaded with the earthy scent of damp moss and firewood from the night before. Birds chirped with lazy enthusiasm in the distance, as if debating whether to start the day at all.

You leaned into the railing—wood chipped and silvery from years of rain and sun—cradling a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. The citrus tang kissed your tongue with a brightness that defied the heavy quiet, while your gaze flicked across the landscape: tangled greenery, uneven trails, far-off hills stitched with mist. It was the kind of view that made you forget things like schedules or digital clocks.

But your attention, as it always did, drifted behind you—toward the presence you felt more than saw.

A soft creak echoed from the cabin’s old screen door, its hinges groaning like a sleepy beast. Moments later, warmth enveloped you. Taph’s arms encircled your waist with silent certainty, his breath brushing against your neck, chest pressing into your back with a steady rhythm that grounded you. His touch radiated a gentleness that contradicted his usual arsenal of traps and evasions.

You tilted your head, catching a glimpse of him. His mask caught the slanting sunlight in dull gleams, hood casting a shadow over his face—but not enough to hide the intensity there. He raised one hand, fingers working swiftly in clean, practiced motions.

“Careful out here, there are traps everywhere,”

The sign ended with a subtle tug to your cheek—a gesture so achingly familiar it made your heart thump against your ribs with fondness. You chuckled lightly, a teasing glint in your eyes as you nodded, playfully dismissing his caution.

Then you broke away with a playful pivot and stepped lightly down the porch stairs, the wood groaning beneath your weight. Taph’s eyes followed, narrowing beneath his hood. There was tension in his stillness—the kind of quiet you’d learned to recognize, even if he never voiced it aloud.

You crossed the uneven threshold, feet brushing over patches of dew-drenched grass, shoes squeaking faintly. Wild greenery had grown wild and thick—Taph’s preferred terrain. You moved with ease, unaware of the danger nestled beneath the grass like a slumbering beast.

Then it happened.

Before your next step could land, a jolt of motion crashed behind you—swift, powerful, all-encompassing. Taph lunged, arms snapping around your torso with bruising urgency. You were yanked backwards mid-step, landing with a startled gasp against the hardness of his chest. His hood slipped slightly, revealing inky skin flushed with alarm.

Behind where you’d stood, a jagged bear trap yawned open—steel teeth gleaming in the light, snapped shut with a teeth-chattering 'clang!' that echoed like a gunshot through the still morning.

Taph’s breath came fast and harsh, each exhale ghosting against your temple as he clutched you tighter, almost like he feared you'd disappear. He pulled away just enough to sign, his movements clipped and trembling:

“Stupid.”

It wasn’t angry. It was terrified. It was hurting.

You blinked, pulse still racing, and watched the way his hands twitched at his sides, like he was calculating every possible future where he hadn’t reached you in time.