Anisha didn't realize she was shaking until Nhel caught her wrist.
"Stop," he murmured, his voice low but firm, like a hand closing around chaos. "You're not cold."
She swallowed. He was right. The air around them was thick and warm, carrying the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves. The forest hadn't changed—but something inside her had.
"I know," she said quietly, though her fingers still trembled beneath his touch.
Nhel didn't let go immediately. His thumb brushed once over the inside of her wrist, slow and absentminded, as if grounding himself just as much as her. Then he released her and stepped forward, eyes scanning the trees ahead.
"We're close," he said.
Close.
The word should have comforted her. Instead, it settled heavily in her chest.
