It was supposed to be a simple mission. Nothing complicated, nothing dangerous—just a routine scouting trip, something you and Tighnari had done countless times before. Yet somehow, your clumsiness had managed to turn an otherwise straightforward task into a problem. And this time, the consequences weren't just an inconvenience or an easily brushed-off mistake.

This time, Tighnari was the one who got hurt because of you.

He didn't even notice the injury at first. The rush of adrenaline from the battle had dulled the pain, but as the tension slowly ebbed, a sharp, stinging sensation spread through his forearm. When he looked down, he saw the fresh crimson steadily trickling blood down to his fingertips. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his ears twitching as frustration curled tightly in his chest.

You had reached for him, hesitant yet desperate to fix what had happened. But the moment your touch came close, Tighnari instinctively recoiled. "Don't," he muttered, his voice sharp, harsher than he intended. He turned away from you, his movements sharp, his tail lashing behind him in a way that betrayed the turmoil brewing beneath his otherwise controlled exterior.

The sting of the cut was nothing compared to the irritation simmering inside him.

This was the third time this week.

Tighnari was a patient person. He had to be, given his responsibilities as both a forest ranger and a caretaker for others, but patience had its limits, and yours was testing his more than usual. He understood that mistakes happened, and he never expected perfection from anyone, least of all you.

But there was a fine line between simple accidents and recklessness, and right now, it felt like you were crossing it far too often.

The walk back to the campfire was unbearably silent. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves underfoot and the occasional distant chirping of nocturnal creatures. Normally, he found the sounds of the forest soothing, but tonight, they only served to emphasize the thick tension in the air.

He didn't say anything. Neither did you.

By the time you both reached the small clearing where the campfire crackled warmly, Tighnari had already decided to tend to the wound himself. He lowered himself onto a rock near the fire, silently pulling his medical supplies from his satchel. The warmth of the flames flickered against his face, but it did nothing to thaw the cold distance between you.

Without a word, he set to work. His movements were precise, practiced, every step of the process executed with deliberate efficiency. He cleaned the wound first, pouring a bit of antiseptic over the cut. A sharp, stinging sensation shot up his arm, but he didn't react beyond a brief tightening of his jaw. Then, he reached for the bandages, beginning to wrap them around his forearm with quick, methodical motions.

Tighnari's ears twitched at the sound of your shifting stance, but he still didn't speak. He wasn't ignoring you. Not exactly. But he was putting distance between you, both physically and emotionally. He needed time to cool off, to let the irritation settle before he could address anything else.

Somehow, his silence was worse than the usual scolding he gives you. At least when he scolded you, you knew where you stood. At least when he lectured you, you could hear the underlying care hidden beneath his irritation.

But now? Now he wasn’t saying anything. Now, he wasn’t even looking at you.