She's quiet for a long moment, considering. I can see the war playing out on her face—the part of her that didn't want to face this warring with the part of her that knows she has to.
"I don't know," she finally says. "Ask me tomorrow."
"Fair enough."
We sit in comfortable silence after that, the woods quiet around us. Ressa drinks the water slowly, color gradually returning to her face as the panic fully recedes. She'll be exhausted later—adrenaline crashes always leave you wrung out—but for now she's stable.
Good enough.
Eventually I stand, brushing dirt off my trousers. "Come on. I'll walk you back."
She doesn't argue, rising carefully like she's testing whether her legs will hold her. They do, though she's steadier after a few steps.
The walk back to her cabin is quiet. Not uncomfortable, just... settled. We've said what needed saying, and anything else would be unnecessary filler.
I see her to her door but don't go inside. She needs space to decompress, to process everything without me hovering.
"Thank you." She says it quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. "For getting me out of there."
"It's my job."
"It's not, actually. You're my healer, not my keeper."
"Someone has to keep you from doing something stupid."
That earns me an almost-smile before she slips inside, the door closing with a soft click.
I stand there for a moment, making sure I don't hear anything concerning from inside—no immediate breakdown, no sounds of distress. When I'm satisfied she's not about to spiral again, I turn toward the healer house.
The settlement center is still active when I pass, the marking ritual apparently concluded and everyone moving on to whatever other ridiculous activity Drogath has planned. I avoid it, taking the long route that skirts the residential area.
"Falla!"
I stop, suppressing a sigh. Saela jogs up, slightly out of breath, concern written clearly across her features.
"Is Ressa okay? I saw you two leave and?—"
"She's fine." I keep my voice flat, discouraging further questions. "Home now."
But Saela doesn't take the hint, falling into step beside me instead. Her grey-green eyes search my face with uncomfortable perception.
"Thank you," she says after a moment. "For getting her out. For trying with this festival thing. I know she's been..." She trails off, struggling for words.
"Struggling," I supply.
"Yes. That." Saela's shoulders drop slightly. "She won't talk to me about it. Says she's fine but I can see she's not and I don't know how to help her."
"You can't."
The words come out harsh. Saela blinks, taken aback.
I soften my tone fractionally. "What I mean is, you're not equipped to help with this. You're her friend, not her healer. The best thing you can do is exactly what you've been doing—checking in, bringing food, giving her space when she needs it."
"It doesn't feel like enough."
"It's not. But it's all you can do."
Saela absorbs that, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. The silence stretches before she speaks again.
