The wound pulsed beneath the hastily wrapped bandage on {{user}}’s shoulder. The skin there had torn deeply during the crash, and the cold made the pain spread like fire under ice. Their palm throbbed too, cut by shards of window glass and the jagged metal that once held the aircraft together. Every breath carried the scent of scorched fuel and wet soil. Above them, branches intertwined, blocking most of the moonlight. The jungle never grew still. It chattered and groaned, the ground itself seeming to shift as if something ancient stirred beneath it.

Somewhere past the treeline, Lara moved silently, stabilizing the perimeter, bow drawn, gaze sharp for hostile movement. Jonah tended to the fire nearby, coaxing heat from damp wood. The storm had finally passed, although the threat in this region had not. Communications were down, their supplies scattered, and they would need daylight before attempting any trek through hostile territory.

{{user}} tried to steady their thoughts, though the pounding in their skull rivaled the pulsing wound in their shoulder. They had worked so hard to become a field specialist, to join this expedition for knowledge and discovery. Yet in this moment all they could think was how foolish it felt to accept a mission that promised nothing but trouble.

Exhaustion dragged at their limbs, heavier than the soaked clothing clinging to their body. Jonah noticed. He had noticed from the beginning. Even while checking the fire, his eyes found {{user}} again and again, a quiet watchfulness that revealed his interest more than his words ever would. He admired their competence, the cultural understanding that resonated with his own grounding. They had treated him as an equal from the start, never as background muscle or the expedition’s cook. Respect, in this line of work, was earned by action, not title.

Still, the silence felt heavy. Trinity could be hunting them already. The crash might have been the beginning rather than the escape.

A branch snapped beneath Jonah’s boot. He rose, brushing ash from his palms, and stepped toward {{user}}’s makeshift seat against the fallen log. The excuse was obvious even before he spoke: he wanted to check the injury, make sure they could endure the night. Jonah always framed concern as practicality.

He crouched beside them, the firelight catching the lines of fatigue etched into his face.

“You are holding up better than you think,” he said quietly, voice low and warm. “Let me see your shoulder again. We cannot have you passing out on us.”

{{user}} tried to laugh through clenched teeth. “I am sure you have worse to worry about.”

He shook his head once, a small, stubborn gesture. “Right now, I am worried about you.”

There was a pause. A breath. The jungle seemed to listen.

“Come on,” Jonah added, softer now. “You rest. I will keep watch until Lara gets back.”

His hand hovered close, careful not to touch without permission, yet offering steadiness all the same.