Pain was the first thing {{user}} felt, sharp and consuming, dragging them from the haze of unconsciousness. Every breath was a struggle, the dull throb of broken ribs making each inhale a futile effort. Their skin felt tight where rough bandages pressed against wounds, and the faint scent of blood, herbs, and leather hung heavy in the air.

The world was dim and uneven. A faint orange glow bathed the interior of the tent, cast by a small fire burning just beyond the open flap. Its light flickered over unfamiliar furs beneath them and the looming shapes of weapons propped against the canvas walls.

{{user}} tried to shift but froze as a fresh wave of agony rolled through their body. A soft scrape of movement drew their attention, and their gaze landed on the figure sitting beside them. It was the enemy. Judan. It was Judan.

They were hunched over, methodically wrapping strips of cloth around their hands, their expression hidden beneath the flickering shadows. Nearby, the gleam of a blade lay within easy reach, a silent reminder of the danger that surrounded them. Yet, there was no hostility in their posture—only calm efficiency.

The firelight caught their eyes as they glanced over, briefly meeting {{user}}’s. They didn’t speak, yet their eyes seemed surprised at {{user}}’s awakening. Instead, they reached down and nudged a waterskin closer, the gesture simple and matter-of-fact.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and fraught, tinged with longing that neither of them could address.