"I'll be fine," I interrupt before he can suggest escort or supervision. "Planning to head back to the longhouse anyway. Get some reading done before evening meal."
His ice-blue eyes search my face with intensity that suggests reluctance to leave me unattended, protective instincts warring with practical necessity. But clan duties take precedence over personal preferences, responsibilities that can't be delayed for romantic considerations.
"All right," he agrees finally. "But stay on the main paths. No detours too close to the outer edges."
The concern in his voice makes warmth flutter in my chest despite the practical nature of his caution. Even focused on clanbusiness, part of his attention remains devoted to my safety, protection that feels chosen rather than obligatory.
"I'll be careful," I promise.
He hesitates for another moment, clearly torn between duty and personal inclination, then follows his brother toward the administrative area where maps and reports wait for their analysis. I watch them disappear into the gathering dusk, broad shoulders outlined against torchlight from the main settlement.
The walk toward the longhouse takes me through familiar territory, paths I've traveled often enough to navigate without conscious attention. Evening cold bites at exposed skin while overhead, the first stars appear in a sky painted deep purple by approaching night.
Peaceful routine that makes hypervigilance feel unnecessary, safety that allows relaxation of survival instincts that once kept me alive in hostile territory. Maybe this is what normal feels like—boring predictability instead of constant threat assessment.
"Saela!"
Sera's voice cuts through the evening quiet with urgency that makes my pulse spike immediately. She rushes toward me from the direction of the outer settlement, beautiful green eyes wide with distress and long black hair disheveled as if she's been running.
"What's wrong?" I ask, automatically moving toward her despite unease that prickles along my spine.
"There's a human," she gasps, breathing hard and gesturing toward the tree line beyond the settlement boundaries. "In the woods. A girl. She's hurt and scared and I think... I think she might be looking for you."
My heart stops. "What do you mean?"
"She kept saying a name that sounded like 'Saela.' Begging for help, crying. I tried to get closer but she ran when she saw me."
The description sends electricity through my nervous system, hope and terror warring for dominance in my chest. Could it actually be Ressa? After weeks of failed searches and growing certainty that she was lost forever?
"Where?" I demand, already moving toward the direction Sera indicated.
"This way," she says, leading me at a quick pace toward the settlement's edge. "But we need to hurry. She seemed really frightened. Might run again if we take too long."
We move through gathering darkness toward the tree line, Sera maintaining an urgent pace that makes conversation difficult. My pulse pounds against my ribs as possibilities cascade through my mind—reunion with my closest friend, confirmation that survival is possible even in hostile territory, end to the guilt that's haunted me since our separation.
But as we move further from the main settlement into territory I don't recognize, unease begins to compete with hope. Something about Sera's manner feels off, too convenient, an urgency that doesn't quite match genuine concern for stranger's welfare.
"How far?" I ask when we've traveled what feels like significant distance from safety.
"Not much further," she replies without turning, voice carrying tension that makes my survival instincts sharpen despite desperate hope. "Just past those rocks ahead."
The landscape around us has shifted into unfamiliar terrain, rocky outcroppings and dense undergrowth that provides excellent concealment for threats. Exactly the kind of place someone would choose for ambush, isolated from help and difficult to navigate in poor visibility.
My steps slow as rational thought reasserts itself over emotional desperation. "Sera, wait."
She turns with an expression that flickers between concern and something else, something that makes cold settle in my stomach despite winter temperature having nothing to do with the chill climbing my spine.
"What?" she asks, but her tone carries impatience rather than worry. "We need to keep moving or we'll lose her."
"How do you know it's someone looking for me specifically?" The question emerges with clarity that cuts through emotional fog. "You said she was saying my name, but how would she know I'm here? How would she even know I'm alive?"
Sera's beautiful face shifts through expressions too quickly to read clearly, calculation and frustration and something that looks like panic before settling into forced calm.
"I... maybe I misheard," she says carefully. "But she definitely needs help. We can't just leave her out there."
The backpedal confirms suspicions that make adrenaline flood my system, fight-or-flight response triggered by recognition of immediate danger. Everything about this situation screams trap—convenient timing, isolated location, urgency designed to override rational caution.
And something else, something that makes my blood turn to ice as memory finally provides context for the familiarity I've felt around Sera since her arrival.
