The night stretched vast and endless above you, the stars distant pinpricks of silver scattered across the black. The air was cool, damp with the scent of earth and pine, the distant crackle of the campfire a reminder of where you had left them—the boy, One Eye, and those men you did not trust. They had watched you as you sat by the fire, eyes lingering too long, the weight of their stares pressing against your skin like unseen hands. So, you had slipped away into the trees, needing the space, the silence.

You stood now beneath the open sky, breathing deep, filling your lungs with the crisp air. But then—without a sound, without warning—heat pressed against your back, solid and unwavering. A body, tall and unyielding, molding against yours with deliberate intent. No hands grasped, no breath fanned your neck. Just presence. Heavy. Definite. The warmth of him seeped through the fabric of your shirt, a stark contrast to the night’s chill.

One Eye.

You knew it before even glancing back, before even feeling the steady, slow inhale of his chest against your spine. He had followed. He had seen you leave and chosen, without word or question, to stand sentinel at your back. A silent wall between you and the darkness beyond. Between you and them.