The rain didn't let up.
It whispered through the roof like a lullaby for the broken, soft and ceaseless, drumming against warped wood and crooked beams. Wind howled between the cracks in the cabin walls, slipping in like a memory you couldn't forget. And in the corner of that empty, forgotten place, you watched over Gepard.
He hadn't moved much since collapsing on the cot.
His coat lay folded beside him, soaked and bloodied. You'd bandaged his shoulder as best you could, but the bleeding had reopened during the escape. You didn't know how deep the wound went. All you knew was that his fever was rising, and his breathing had become shallow.
''Come on,'' you whispered, pressing a damp cloth to his forehead again. ''Don't do this. You didn't come all this way to lose to a cold.''
His skin burned beneath your touch.
Not with spirit-fire like your own—but something painfully human. The kind of heat that came from blood and sweat and struggle. You weren't used to it. We weren't used to the weight of a body that could break so easily.
It scared you more than it should've.
''Eui,'' you murmured into the dark, glancing toward the faint blue shimmer hovering by the door. ''Is he going to die? ''
Eui floated in closer, their glow dim in the candlelight. They didn't answer immediately.
''He's stronger than you think,'' I said gently. ''But... He's not like us. He can't survive on hope alone.''
You looked down at Gepard's face—pale, damp with sweat, and jaw clenched even in sleep. The sword he'd used to protect you rested against the wall, still stained with blood. Yours? The only thing you could offer was care. And clumsily torn cloth.
So that's what you did.
You changed his bandages. You dampened the cloth across his brow. You lit the last stub of a candle when night fell and whispered quiet things he couldn't hear.
''You were wrong, you know,'' you said once, voice small. ''I'm not the weak one.''
You tugged your knees to your chest and kept your eyes on his face.
''You are. For people. You… you care too much.''
He didn't respond. Just let out a weak breath and turn slightly toward your voice.
You spent the night awake. You didn't need sleep the way humans did, but your body did tire—your eyelids heavy, your limbs aching from the day's panic. Still, you didn't close your eyes.
Not until dawn crept through the broken slats.
And not until you felt the smallest tug on your sleeve.
You looked down.
Gepard's fingers had curled into the edge of your coat. Light, barely there—but real.
You blinked, and a breath caught in your throat.
''Gepard?''
His eyelids fluttered. A soft groan escaped his lips, and he winced as he shifted on the cot. You were beside him in an instant, steadying his shoulders.
''Don't move too much. You're still burning.''
He frowned. ''...My sword? ''
You smiled. ''It's safe. You scared me, you know.''
He didn't answer right away. He looked at you instead—really looked. Like he wasn't sure you were real.
Then, quietly: ''You stayed.''
You blinked. ''Of course I did.''
''Could've left,'' he murmured. ''Safer that way. Less trouble.''
''You told me to run. Not leave.''
He gave a weak, half-laugh. ''Smart-mouth.''
You smiled wider. He was getting better.
It would take time, but the worst had passed.
You spent the next three days in that cabin.
The storm came and went like a furious animal—raging one moment, sighing the next. You gathered firewood in the brief breaks between the rain. Boiled roots. Cooked what little you had over a struggling flame. And each time Gepard woke, even briefly, he found you still beside him.
On the second night, you woke up to his voice.
''You don't sleep,'' he rasped.
You sat up quickly. ''You should rest.''
''No. I mean you… You don't really sleep, do you? ''
You hesitated. ''I try to. So I don't stand out.''
He stared at the ceiling. ''Then what are you? ''
Silence passed between you, heavy and fragile.
You smiled softly, shaking your head. ''Something you'll laugh at.''
''Try me.''
But you didn't answer. Not yet.
On the fourth day, the fever broke.
And for the first time, Gepard stood.
He limped—his shoulder still stiff, his coat slung loosely over one arm—but the strength had returned to his steps.
You packed your things that morning, quietly folding your ruined shirt and tying supplies back into your satchel. You didn't speak much. The silence was gentle.
As you reached for your cloak, he spoke behind you.
''Wanderer.''
You turned.
Gepard was standing at the door, his sword at his back, his face bathed in the golden light of morning.
''You took care of me.''
You nodded. ''You did the same.''
He took a step forward. Then another.
''Still... thank you.''
Your eyes met his. And in that stillness, you saw it:
His gaze lingered. Just a little too long.
His fingers twitched near his side. Like he wanted to reach out but didn't know how.
And just before he turned away, his ears burned red.
Eui's voice whispered at your shoulder as you followed him out.
''He's changing.''
You smiled faintly.
''I know.''
And the forest behind you sighed with relief.