Chapter Text
The forest smelled of pine and impending rain. Sophia Reeler adjusted her grip on the supply cart's reins, her enhanced strength making the task effortless. Beside her, Louis scanned the treeline with that infuriatingly perfect posture of his, his dark hair catching the fading afternoon light.
"Would you relax?" Sophia nudged his boot with hers. "Bandits wouldn't dare attack a Royal Knight convoy."
Louis' gloved hand rested on his sword hilt. "Normally, no. But these are—"
An arrow thudded into the cart between them.
Chaos erupted.
Sophia's world became a whirl of shouting, clashing steel, and the sickening crunch of wood as their cart overturned. She reacted instinctively, catching a falling crate that would have crushed Isaac—only to hear Eddy's panicked shout: "Scatter! Regroup at the river!"
Then the mist rolled in. Thick, unnatural, swallowing everything.
When it cleared, Sophia stood alone—except for Louis, whose cloak was torn at the shoulder.
"Well," he said drily, "this is suboptimal."
Sophia's laugh came out shaky. "You think?"
Their fingers brushed as they moved closer, both pretending it was accidental.
"But the storm’s coming. We won’t reach them tonight," he murmured.
Sophia bit her lip. "So we’re stuck here?"
Louis straightened, his dark hair catching the last light of dusk. "Unless you’d like to cuddle a bear for warmth, yes."
She huffed. "I could lift a bear."
"I know," he said softly, and the way he looked at her—like she was something precious, not a weapon—made her stomach flip.
Rain fell in sheets, turning the forest floor to sludge. Sophia's boots sank into the mud with every step, her woman uniform clinging uncomfortably to her legs.
"Here." Louis shrugged off his cloak. "Before you drown in that thing."
Sophia eyed the sodden garment. "That's not any drier."
"But it's mine." His tone left no room for argument.
The wool was heavy with rain and his scent—steel oil and the faint citrus of his soap. Sophia pulled it tighter as thunder rumbled.
Louis suddenly stiffened. "Cave. Up ahead."
The dark mouth of a cavern promised shelter. Also possibly bears.
Sophia lifted a boulder to block the entrance ("Just in case," she said, ignoring Louis' raised brow). Inside, their breath fogged in the chilly air.
"You're shivering," Louis observed.
"I'm fi—"
He caught her hand, turning it palm-up. Her calluses—earned from all the time of controlling her strength—stood stark against her skin. Louis' thumb traced them, his touch devastatingly gentle.
"Always pretending," he murmured.
Sophia's throat tightened. No one else noticed how hard she worked to be careful.
Lightning flashed. In that brief illumination, she saw his expression—not pity, but understanding.