The moment my feet hit stone I was already sweeping the cave, eyes cutting from one figure to the next until they snagged on Narg, and relief came at me hot and immediate enough to make my chest unclench.
He was alive.
For a second I let myself picture the worst: Zzok's pale stillness, the hollow look of someone gone, and the image almost tipped me over.
I had been afraid Narg would end up the same.
But he sat propped against the cave wall, bandages wrapped tight around his torso and arm, the cloth stained dark where the blood had soaked through.
He was breathing and blinking and very much there — fragile, yes, but alive, and that little, stubborn fact steadied me more than any victory ever could.
He saw me first — which was typical of him — and one flare of surprise crossed his face before he tried to stand straighter, like some reflexive gesture of respect.
