Morning had barely broken through the thick canopy of trees surrounding the camp when Halsin noticed your absence from the morning routines. You were always up before dawn, ready to greet the day with purpose. Unease crept into his mind as he made his way to your tent, the scent of damp earth and pine filling the air.

Pulling back the flap, Halsin’s sharp eyes immediately took in the sight of you, pale and trembling, your breaths shallow and labored. Concern washed over him as he crouched beside you, his large hand gently brushing your damp forehead.

“You should have told me something was wrong,” he murmurs, “Nature’s strength cannot heal what we do not face.”