Luke returned at dawn on the fifth day, when the sky was still pale with thin light and the dew clung heavy to the grass.
His steps were steady but slow, the weight of his pack dragging his shoulders down. When Gideon saw him coming along the main dirt road toward the clinic, he pushed the door open and stepped outside, his eyes narrowing as if to make sure it was really him.
"You cut it close," Gideon called out, his voice low but edged with relief.
Luke dropped his pack with a grunt. "Could've been worse. I made it back in one piece."
Lena came to the doorway, her hands still stained with crushed leaves from the remedies she had been preparing.
When she saw Luke, her expression softened, though her voice carried its usual bluntness.
"You look like hell."
"Thanks," Luke replied dryly, brushing dust from his jacket.
