Hours later, when the camp had fallen silent and most were asleep, Emberlyn woke from her fitful slumber. She had managed only a short rest, her mind troubled by thoughts of the mission, the dangers ahead, and inexplicably, Ethan.

  Rising from her tent, she walked aimlessly through the camp, checking on the sleeping hunters.

  As she walked, her feet carried her back toward the river. Wait, why am I coming here again? Ethan must be asleep by now...

  Her thoughts trailed off as she spotted a figure by the water. Ethan was still there, sitting alone now.

  She crouched slowly, moving closer through the undergrowth. Through the darkness, she saw Ethan applying healing oil to his injuries, his face contorted in pain as he struggled to reach his back.

  Emberlyn’s breath caught in her throat as the moonlight illuminated his back, raw, crimson welts crisscrossed over bruised flesh, some wounds still glistening faintly where the blood had only just dried.

  Jagged gashes marked his skin, unmistakable traces of the Treant’s brutal assault.

  Those wounds... they’re from when he protected me, she realized, her heart twisting.

  The memory surged back. During their desperate retreat, Ethan had suddenly thrown himself behind her. She’d heard the sickening thud, seen the flicker of pain in his eyes, masked by a strained, reassuring smile.

  He had taken the blow meant for her, and never said a word.

  Emberlyn stepped out from her hiding place, startling Ethan with the sudden movement.

  He quickly tried to hide the oil and cover his back, turning away from her. "Emberlyn?" Ethan asked, surprise evident in his voice. "You're not asleep yet?"

  Emberlyn walked toward Ethan, ignoring his question. "Let me help," she said, her hand extended toward him, asking for the oil.

  "Huh?" Ethan's confusion was clear on his face.

  Emberlyn shook her hand impatiently, her request wordless but insistent.

  When Ethan didn't comply, she stepped forward and firmly took the oil from his hand, which he had hidden behind his back. With gentle force, she made him turn so she could see the full extent of his injuries.

  "Wait, Emberlyn, I can do it myself," Ethan protested, wincing as the movement pulled at his wounds.

  "Can you shut up for a minute?" Emberlyn said, her voice low but forceful. "I said I'll help. Just accept my generous offer."

  Ethan looked into her eyes, those same amber eyes he had fallen in love with years ago, and gave up his resistance, turning to allow her access to his injured back.

  Emberlyn opened the jar, the sharp, herbal scent of the healing oil filling the air between them. She moved to sit behind him, positioning herself close enough to tend to the wounds along his back with ease.

  She poured some oil onto her hands, warming it between her palms before beginning her work, then paused, suddenly aware of the intimacy of what she was about to do.

  "I can do it myself," Ethan offered again, noticing her careful preparation.

  "No," she said firmly, pushing aside her uncertainty. She placed her hands gently on his wounded skin, feeling him tense beneath her touch before gradually relaxing.

  As her fingers made contact, a curious sensation washed over her, an unexpected comfort in the action, as if her hands knew exactly how to move, which areas needed the most attention.

  "This is gonna sting," she warned softly, though she was already applying the oil with surprisingly practiced movements.

  Ethan nodded, bracing himself. Despite the pain, he couldn't help but savor her touch, the gentle pressure of her fingers, the warmth of her hands.

  It had been so long since she had touched him with such care.

  They remained in silence as she worked, the only sounds being Ethan's occasional sharp intake of breath and the gentle flow of the river beside them.

  The moonlight bathed them in soft silver, highlighting the contours of his damaged skin.

  Emberlyn gently smoothed the last bit of healing oil across his back, her touch careful and precise. But as her fingers reached the edge of the wound, she noticed it extended further, wrapping around his ribs toward his side.

  She paused, realizing she couldn't reach it properly from behind him. "I need to..." she murmured, moving around to sit cross-legged beside his right side, angling herself so she could access both his back and the wounds that curved around his ribs.

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  "Why did you really take that hit for me?" she asked suddenly, her hands still working methodically, now tracing the tender skin at his side.

  Ethan was quiet for so long that Emberlyn thought he might not answer. Finally, he spoke, voice low and steady. "Because I couldn't bear to see you hurt."

  The simple honesty in his voice made her pause. From her position at his side, she could see his profile in the moonlight, the way his jaw tightened slightly as he spoke.

  "You barely know me," she whispered.

  Something flickered in Ethan's eyes as he turned his head slightly to meet her gaze, sadness, longing, she couldn't tell. "Sometimes," he said softly, "you feel connected to someone without understanding why."

  Emberlyn felt her heart quicken at his words. They resonated somewhere deep inside her, like an echo striking against an empty cavern.

  For a moment, she found herself leaning slightly closer to him, drawn by some inexplicable force.

  Their eyes met, and time seemed to slow. The night air around them felt charged with unspoken emotion.

  Emberlyn's breath caught in her throat as she realized how intimate this moment had become, sitting so close to him, her hands on his skin, their faces only inches apart.

  She broke the gaze first, returning her attention to his wounds with renewed focus, though her hands trembled slightly. "These injuries... they're serious, Ethan," she managed to say, her voice not entirely steady.

  "Others needed more attention," he replied quietly. "Kira, Jane, and Dren were in worse shape."

  "That's not good enough," Emberlyn chided, though her touch remained gentle as she worked the healing oil into a particularly nasty bruise.

  "A team is only as strong as its members. If you collapse tomorrow because you didn't treat your wounds properly tonight, what good would that do us?"

  Ethan smiled slightly, though she could see it in his profile. "You're right. I'm sorry."

  They fell into silence again as Emberlyn continued tending to his injuries. The oil's herbal scent enveloped them, creating a small bubble of intimacy amid the vast forest.

  "Thank you," Ethan said quietly, "for coming back for me."

  Emberlyn's hands paused briefly before continuing their work. "What do you mean?"

  "Most people wouldn't have noticed I was injured," Ethan explained. "You did."

  Emberlyn frowned slightly, confused by her own actions. Why had she been so concerned about him? Why had she sought him out in the middle of the night?

  There was something about Ethan that pulled at her, something she couldn't name or understand.

  "I notice everything," she said finally, her voice softer than intended. "That's my job as team leader."

  Ethan nodded, accepting her explanation. "Of course."

  As Emberlyn's hands moved across his back, her Smolder Sense, the ability to detect heat signatures, picked up on something unusual. Ethan's skin was warm, as expected, but there was a pattern to the heat, oddly familiar, though she couldn't understand why.

  Her body seemed to respond to him in ways her mind couldn't comprehend, as if following the echo of a dance it once knew.

  "Almost done," she murmured, applying the last of the oil to his lower back. Her fingers lingered longer than necessary, reluctant to break the connection between them.

  "You should be able to move more freely tomorrow, but don't push yourself too hard."

  "I won't," Ethan promised, already feeling the soothing effects of the oil and, more importantly, her care.

  When she finished applying the oil to the last of the wounds along his ribs, Ethan slowly turned to face her, careful not to strain his injuries.

  The movement brought them closer than either had anticipated, her cross-legged position and his turn leaving their knees almost touching as they sat beside the river.

  The moonlight caught in his blue eyes, making them shine with an intensity that made Emberlyn's breath catch.

  "Emberlyn," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out slowly, as if afraid she might bolt, and gently tucked a strand of her flaming red hair behind her ear.

  The touch was so light, so tender, that Emberlyn felt a shiver run through her entire body.

  For a moment, she didn't pull away. Something about his touch felt right in a way she couldn't explain, like coming home to a place she'd never been.

  Her eyes searched his face, finding kindness and something deeper, something that made her heart race.

  "I—" she began, but the words died on her lips. What could she say when she didn't understand the feelings churning inside her?

  Instead, she handed him back the oil bottle, her fingers brushing against his. "Get some rest, Ethan. Tomorrow won't be any easier than today."

  Ethan nodded, watching as she turned to leave. "Emberlyn," he called softly, stopping her.

  When she looked back at him, he simply said, "Thank you."

  A small smile touched her lips, gentle and genuine. "You're welcome."

  With that, she walked away, heading back to the camp and her tent.

  Ethan remained by the river a while longer, the ghostly feeling of her touch still lingering on his skin.

  Hope bloomed in his chest, a dangerous, wonderful hope that despite everything, something between them remained.

  ***

  In her tent, Emberlyn lay awake, staring at the canvas above her. Her hands still tingled from touching Ethan, and her mind raced with questions she couldn't answer.

  Why did he feel so familiar? Why did her heart race when he looked at her with those kind, patient eyes? And why did she feel such inexplicable jealousy at seeing him with Lucy?

  The feelings were intense and confusing, a strange pull toward a man she barely knew, or thought she barely knew.

  Her body seemed to react to him in ways her conscious mind couldn't explain, as if responding to old patterns her thoughts couldn't access.

  Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of flying knives, protective arms, and a pair of blue eyes that seemed to see into her very soul.

  Tomorrow would bring new challenges in Black Wood Forest, but tonight, a small spark had ignited between them, a tiny flame that neither of them fully understood.