Sarah's nose twitched as she glanced between me and Tiamat, her sharp eyes narrowing.
"You guys smell like sweat," she said, her voice laced with that familiar mix of sarcasm and something sharper, unspoken.
She lowered her head, focusing on the meat stick sizzling over the campfire, turning it with a practiced flick of her wrist.
The flames crackled, casting flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the tension in her jaw.
"You made this? Since when?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, trying to steer the conversation back to something normal.
The air between us felt thick, charged with the aftermath of what Tiamat and I had just shared in the woods.
Tiamat lounged nearby, her scales still glistening faintly in the firelight, utterly unperturbed.
"I couldn't wait for you, so I made a snack," Sarah replied, resuming her meal with deliberate bites.
She tore into the steak, chewing slowly, avoiding our eyes.
Her words hung there, a subtle jab that made my stomach twist.
