POV: APHRODITE
I hold Lyra while she cries, feeling her body shake against mine. My own legs are trembling from exhaustion, my body still recovering from days of starvation, but I refuse to let go.
She tried to leave. My best friend, the person who's been my anchor through all of this, almost walked away because she thought she was a burden.
The thought makes my chest ache worse than hunger ever did.
"Come on," I say when Lyra's sobs finally quiet. "We need to talk. Really talk."
I lead Lyra away from where she was packing, away from camp, to a fallen log at the edge of the clearing where we can have privacy. My body protests every step, but I push through it. This conversation is more important than rest.
We sit side by side, close enough that our shoulders touch. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Just breathe together in the darkness.
