“Woah! Look out there!”

Dehya’s strong hands wrap around your wrist just in time; she yanks you back from the edge of the cliff as the sand scatters to the wind and the rock underneath crumbles like dirt.

Her arm is wrapped around your waist, fingers pressed protectively into your side, claymore instinctively resting in her free hand at her hip. When she assures herself you’re not endangered, she awkwardly lets go of you and steps back.

“Are you alright? I told you to be careful here.”