That was all.
Meeyn sat up fully and let out a low breath.
"Well," he said, brushing dirt from his sleeves, "this place still looks like something a Titan sneezed on."
He stood, stretching slowly, spine cracking faintly as he reached upward.
He glanced down at her.
"Come on. Up."
Annie blinked.
He offered no explanation. Just turned, walking out of the hut with that same lazy, thoughtless grace that somehow felt more in control.
She followed.
Of course she followed.
Outside, the clearing was quiet again. Broken trees, scattered stone, makeshift walls leaning just enough to feel temporary.
Meeyn took a slow look around, hands on his hips.
"We need better support beams," he said, mostly to himself. "And the roof leaks. That branch ceiling won't hold through a real storm."
He paused, glanced sideways at her.
"You any good with lashing joints?"
Annie gave a small nod. "I trained in field shelters… once."
"Hm. Then you'll manage."
He stepped toward the edge of the clearing, pointing to a bundle of saplings still intact among the debris.
"We'll use those. Strip the bark — bend the trunks. We'll tie them into the corners and brace the roof. It'll stop it from caving in."
She nodded again, already moving.
Not asking why.
Not hesitating.
It felt strange — this quiet obedience — but also… right.
He gave commands without harshness. She obeyed without shame.
As she knelt by the trees, pulling at the bark with deft fingers, Meeyn moved to the half-formed wall and tapped one of the leaning supports. It shifted, groaning faintly.
"We'll tear this side down," he called. "Rebuild it tighter. Angle the base inward."
Annie looked up. "And the entrance?"
"We'll use the hill's slope. Dig a shallow ramp down. Less visible. Easier to defend."
She stood and carried the saplings over, dragging two at once, dirt scuffing her heels. She moved quickly, efficiently — but always glanced back, waiting for his next instruction.
And Meeyn noticed.
He said nothing.
But he saw it — the way she responded.
How her posture had changed.
No longer the closed, guarded fighter.
But someone… willing.
Maybe not trusting yet — but close.
She wanted to be useful.
No — more than that.
She wanted him to see her as useful.
As needed.
As something more than just a runaway monster.
He could feel it in the way she looked at him, waiting for approval.
Waiting for praise she wouldn't ask for.
After a while, he stepped back, watching her lash the new beams into place.
She worked in silence, breath steady, hands skilled.
The makeshift shelter was slowly taking shape — tighter, cleaner, less like a ruin and more like… a home.
He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly.
"Not bad," he said after a moment.
Annie froze for half a second — the faintest pause in her movement.
Then she dipped her head.
Meeyn stood just outside the hut, arms stretched above his head in a lazy yawn. The morning light dappled through the trees, soft and golden, brushing against the jagged wall Annie had built.
His cloak rustled faintly behind him.
Annie leaned against the frame of the hut, arms crossed, the cloak still draped loosely over her shoulders. Her bruises had begun to fade.
Meeyn glanced over his shoulder at her.
"Well," he said, brushing a few twigs off his shoulder. "I've got something to take care of."
Annie frowned faintly. "Where?"
He didn't answer immediately. Just stepped a few paces forward and looked toward the sky.
"North. For now," he said. "Don't worry. I'll be back soon."
Annie narrowed her eyes. "You're just going to leave?"
Meeyn turned toward her again, hands sliding into his pockets. "Not for long. I just need to check on a few things. Scout ahead."
He paused, then added, "Besides, I figured you'd appreciate a little peace and quiet without me rattling around in your head all the time."
She didn't smile. But she didn't argue either.
"...How long?"
"Idk Couple days. Maybe less Maybe More."
He started walking — slow, unhurried — then stopped halfway past the barricade.
Without turning, he said over his shoulder, "Keep the fire going. Keep yourself hidden. And if anyone shows up — don't hesitate."
Annie's gaze followed him silently. "...You think they'll come for me?"
Meeyn chuckled low in his throat.
"They'll try."
Then he vanished between the trees — no crack of leaves, no crunch of underbrush. Just gone, like he'd merged into the forest.
Annie stood still for a while, staring after him, until only the breeze remained.
She drew the cloak tighter around herself, then turned and walked back toward the hut.
...
High above the fields and forests, Meeyn stood on top of Wall Rose — the wind tugging at his cloak, hair tousled, eyes sharp against the morning light.
From this height, everything looked calm. Too calm.
"Should be about now," he murmured. "Beast Titan's making his first real move. Utgard's under siege."
He turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the distant east — toward the crumbling silhouette of Castle Utgard. He couldn't see it from here.
"So," he said aloud, flatly. "Time to move."
His boots tapped softly against the stone as he began walking east along the top of the wall, hands tucked loosely into his coat pockets.
As for why he was bothering to go?
Well...