---
He nodded once and reached for her bandage. He loosened it slightly to keep the pressure correct as the swelling changed. His fingers brushed her skin in a way that was not intimate and felt like it anyway. She drew in a small breath and let it out as if the air itself had learned a new route inside her.
"Thank you," she said, very quiet.
The air in the shelter shifted again, not with wind. With awareness. He had been smelling her all day without naming it. Clean cloth. Leaf shade. Sun skin. Now the scent changed because closeness changes scent. It warmed and deepened. It added the salt of fear unclenching and the soft sweetness of gratitude unafraid to be gratitude. His own scent answered because bodies answer. It carried heat and the residual fire of the fight. He did not pretend to be above such things. He did not pretend not to notice the part of him that wanted to reach for the accident had already taught his mouth to want.
