By the time the light went copper, Elara's hands smelled of river mud and crushed stem. Felix walked her back toward the shelter the local healers had given them. The path was narrow. Their shoulders brushed with every other step.
"You didn't push harder," he said.
"Pushing harder would have made him dig in. He needs to see the other dens improve while his stay sick. Pride is easier to move with evidence than with authority I don't fully have here."
Felix was quiet for a few steps. "You sound like you've done this before."
"I watched my sister do it with elders who wanted blood instead of patience. Different scale. Same principle."
They reached the shelter. It was a single room with two low cots, a table, and a stove already lit against the evening cold. Felix set the medical kit down and turned. For a moment the small space made the months of careful distance feel artificial.
