For a long, quiet moment, neither of them spoke. The ambient noise of the tribe seemed to recede into a peaceful, distant hum.
The cool night breeze rustled the autumn leaves overhead, carrying the faint scent of wild orchids and cedar smoke.
Under the flickering golden torchlight, they simply stood there together in total, unhurried peace, their eyes locked, sharing a quiet warmth that didn't need grand words or martial titles to exist.
A sudden set of heavy, crunching footsteps echoed from the nearby gravel path as a pair of late-night patrol guards walked past, carrying tall flint spears.
The squad leader paused, snapping his fist to his chest in a crisp, respectful salute toward Sol and Kira, before continuing past the terrace toward the outer stockade.
The movement broke the trance.
