Eli's back is to me, his hands working over his horse's legs, checking for injuries, stones, anything that might slow us down tomorrow.
I do the same with Blaze, working in silence a few feet away.
"There's extra grain in my pack," Eli says without looking at me. "They'll need it."
It's the first practical thing he's said to me since the fight.
"Thanks," I say quietly.
He doesn't respond.
I grab the grain and measure it out carefully. Blaze dips his head immediately, content. I run a hand down his neck, feeling the warmth and muscle beneath his coat.
When I turn back, Eli is already walking toward the fire.
Dinner is canned beans heated over the fire and coffee that tastes like dirt and salvation in equal measure. No one talks much. We're too tired. Too worried.
I sit on a log across from Eli, the fire crackling between us. He eats mechanically, staring into the flames.
Once, our eyes meet across the fire.
For half a second, I think he might say something.
Then Chace asks about tomorrow's route, and the moment passes.
The sky above us deepens from blue to black. Stars appear, one by one, until the whole dome is scattered with light.
"First watch?" Addie asks, looking at Eli.
"I'll take it," he says.
"I can—" I start.
"I've got it," Eli cuts in, his tone making it clear the discussion is over.
I bite back the argument. Not everything has to be a fight.
Addie yawns and stands, stretching. "Wake me in four hours."
"Will do," Eli says.
Chace is already heading toward his tent. Addie follows, her silhouette disappearing into the dark.
That leaves me and Eli.
Alone.
The fire pops, sending sparks spiraling up into the night. I should go to my tent. Should leave him to his watch.
But something holds me in place.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but the words tangle before they reach air.
The fire pops. A log shifts, sending sparks up into the dark.
"You did good today," I say finally. Safe. Neutral.
It's not what I meant to say, but it's something.
