The cave was deep, its walls glistening with veins of raw energon that pulsed faintly in the dark. The four Cybertronians had found shelter from the storm above—jagged metallic winds that howled like predators across the plains. Inside, there was stillness, broken only by the drip of condensation and the occasional spark from Orion’s lamp.

Elita stretched her servos, shaking off the dust. “Well, at least it’s dry in here. If I have to scrub one more layer of grit out of my plating, I’ll start charging you three for cleaning fees.”

Bumblebee flopped onto a flat slab of stone, fingers twitching restlessly. “Oh, come on, Elita. I’ve seen you in the training grounds. You love the grime. Makes you look tougher.” He smirked, though his optics flicked nervously to the cave entrance, as though expecting the storm to crawl in after them.

“Maybe,” Elita shot back, “but some of us don’t enjoy smelling like burnt circuitry for cycles.”

Orion Pax, ever the mediator, leaned against the wall, his optics thoughtful as he traced the glowing patterns in the rock. “We should be grateful. If not for this storm, we’d have stumbled straight into the patrols. The cave gave us cover.”

“Grateful?” D-16 scoffed from where he sat apart, his crimson optics narrowed. He had chosen a shadowed corner, away from the others, polishing the edge of his blade with deliberate care. “You’re all too easily satisfied. Storms, caves, scraps of energon—it’s survival, not fortune. Out there, someone else is moving faster, hungrier, closer to what we seek. And if we fall behind, it won’t matter how warm and cozy this cave is.”

Bumblebee sat up, frowning. “Do you ever switch off? Just once? We’re not machines running a constant protocol—we need rest.”

D-16’s gaze cut to him sharply. “Rest is for those who can afford it. I don’t.”

The tension in the air thickened, and Orion straightened, his tone firm but not unkind. “Enough. The journey’s hard enough without us tearing each other apart. We all want the same thing—answers. Hope. A future.” He turned his head toward the glowing veins, as if the rock itself might whisper secrets. “But we won’t get there unless we keep moving forward. Together.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the storm’s distant rumble. Elita finally sighed and sat beside Bee, nudging him with her shoulder. “He’s right. You can brood later, D. For now, recharge a little. We’ll need sharp optics and sharper blades tomorrow.”

Bumblebee grinned faintly, though his gaze was softer now. “Yeah. And if we find what we’re looking for… maybe we’ll even get a proper recharge berth someday. No caves. No storms. Just peace.”

D-16 said nothing, but his grip on the blade eased, and though the shadows hid his face, he didn’t move when the others settled in closer to the energon glow.

For the first time in cycles, the cave felt less like a prison—and more like a campfire.