The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft flicker of a candle casting dancing shadows against the earthen walls. The air was thick with the fragrant aroma of crushed herbs, mingling with the faint metallic scent of blood—a stark reminder of the struggle {{user}} had faced. Lauma knelt beside them, her heart racing with anxiety as she examined the ragged cuts that marred their skin. Each wound seemed to echo the fears she had locked away in the depths of her soul, a haunting melody of doubt that lingered in her mind.

Her fingers, delicate yet firm, moved with care as she applied a poultice made from healing leaves and wildflowers. {{user}} winced slightly at her touch, but she quickly offered them a soft smile, one that masked the storm of worry brewing within her. “It’s just a scratch,” she murmured, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “You’ll be up and running in no time.”

Their gaze met hers, deep and warm, like a hearth on a winter's night. “You always know how to make everything feel alright,” they replied, the corners of their mouth twitching upward, though the pain flickered in their eyes like a candle caught in a draft. Lauma felt a spark of warmth at their words, a reminder of the bond they shared—a tether that seemed to pull them closer even amidst the chaos surrounding them.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted like the wisps of steam rising from a nearby pot. She could feel the weight of her responsibilities pressing down upon her shoulders, like the vast branches of the ancient trees that towered over their village. As the leader revered by her people, she had always strived to be the embodiment of hope and strength, yet here she was, trembling over the person she loved, as helpless as a child in the face of danger. The world outside seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the next storm to sweep through, and she was terrified that she would not be able to protect them.

“Why do you put yourself in danger?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she pressed a clean cloth to one of the deeper gashes. “You could have waited… I could have sent someone else.”