Elara met him with the same certainty. The river and the smoke and the long day of holding a child's life in her hands fell back.
For a few breaths there was only the solid weight of him and the relief of no longer pretending the pull was something she could schedule around the work.
When they separated he rested his forehead against hers.
"The dens still need checks through the night," he said quietly.
"Then we check them." Elara's hands stayed fisted in the front of his shirt. "And when the fever finishes breaking, we stop pretending this is only the work."
"Agreed."
They made the night rounds together. The boy remained stable. The other dens continued to improve on clean water and the adjusted drafts. Torren's settlement had moved every household to the upstream markers without further argument. The river-sage piles burned down to ash.
