CHAPTER 419: THE CONNECTION

The first pale light of dawn crept over the horizon, spilling into the camp in a wash of silver and gold. Shaya stirred, blinking away the remnants of sleep. For the first time in what felt like years, her night had been undisturbed—no shadows clawing at her dreams , no jolting awake in a cold sweat. Just deep, unbroken rest.

A rare gift.

Perhaps it was the lingering haze of citronella and cinnamon that drifted like a protective veil over the camp. Lara had, in her usual ingenious way, pressed citronella and cinnamon bark into thin, compact blocks that smoldered without flame, releasing a slow curl of fragrant smoke through the night. It kept away the mosquitoes, insects, and, it seemed, the nightmares too.

Shaya stretched languidly, wiggling partway out of her sleeping bag but unwilling to leave its embrace just yet. Half of it was luxuriously padded with the soft, cottony fibers of kapok pods, the other half a thin, blanket-like layer perfect for warmer nights. It was practical and comfortable—a rare combination in her life.

She was still half-lost in that cozy haze when movement caught her eye. A silhouette stood outside her tent. Her muscles tensed instantly. She’d pitched her tent beside Lara’s, so the figure could be friend or foe. The campfire still glowed faintly—its embers stubborn against the predawn chill.

Her hand closed around the hilt of her sword, and she checked the smaller knife strapped to her thigh. Moving with practiced silence, she rose and slid to the flap of her tent. In one fluid motion, she swept it open—her blade leveled at the intruder’s heart.

The man froze.

"It’s you, Sir Bener. I am sorry." Shaya said in an apologetic way as she sheathed the sword.

"I’ll accept your apology," he said, a wry smile playing on his lips, "if you stop this habit of calling me ’Sir.’ Just Bener—I’ve asked you countless times." His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and earnestness as he leaned slightly forward, emphasizing his request.

"But everyone else calls you Sir Bener," she countered. "Why would I be an exception?"

"Because you are different." His tone was steady, but there was weight in the words. His gaze shifted to the small bundle in his arms, a fur ball of black that stirred gently and created soft whimpers.

"A pup?" Shaya asked, the excitement in her voice palpable.

"I heard some strange sounds when I woke up earlier. When I checked, I found this pup a few feet away from my tent, alone and pitiful. He is injured, so I want my sister to take a look."

"But it looks like Lara is still asleep." Bener’s gaze flicked to the tent to his right and then to the pup in his arms.

"Give it to me. I can heal that pup." Shaya said in a commanding tone.

Bener hesitated for a heartbeat before placing the pup in her arms. Their hands brushed, and a subtle current ran up her arm, leaving a heat that had nothing to do with the firelight. She looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush on her cheeks.

But the man was looking at her, the glow of the dying firelight reflecting on her face. He smiled when he noticed that she was shy.

Shaya focused on the small creature cradled in her arms. Coal-black fur—typical of a wolf pup—but when it lifted its head, the eyes that met hers stole her breath. Deep, vivid blue. Not the pale hue of newborns, but a shade so intense it was almost unnatural.

The little pup whimpered softly, its hind leg marred by a deep wound that glistened with a mix of blood and dirt. Shaya knelt beside it, her heart aching for the fragile creature.

Without a word, she ducked back into her tent, laying the pup gently on her sleeping bag. She rummaged through her rucksack until she found the small jar she needed. The wound on the pup’s hind leg was ugly but not fatal.

With nimble fingers, she opened the small jar of medicinal paste, the familiar scent of herbs wafting up to her as she dipped her hand into the cool salve. Carefully, she spread the soothing balm over the tender wound, watching as it absorbed into the fur and began to ease the pain.

Afterward, she wrapped the bandage around the leg, her hands steady and reassuring, as she whispered soft words of comfort to the trembling pup.

When she looked up, Bener was crouched at the entrance, watching her with quiet interest. There was something in the way he looked at her that she could not place. Was it admiration?

"Is it bad?" His voice was softer now.

"If not treated, it would be. But since I am here, Blue Eyes will definitely be healed." She said with confidence, as she cleaned the bloodied fur with a damp cloth."

"Blue Eyes?" He frowned slightly.

"Its name." Shaya carried the pup as she took the few steps to Bene, her body crouched low to avoid hitting the flimsy support of the tent. "I had never seen eyes as blue as his."

"Aren’t all pups’ eyes blue when they’re young?" Bener asked, looking at the pitiful thing in Shaya’s arms.

"Yes," she said, her gaze never leaving the animal’s face. "But not like this. His are... different."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes lifted to meet Bener’s. For a moment, the world beyond the tent seemed to dissolve, and time itself hesitated between one breath and the next.

Shaya broke the moment first, looking back down at the pup as though its tiny, trembling body demanded her full attention.

Bener cleared his throat softly and shifted his weight, ducking to the side just far enough that the early light caught the sharp line of his jaw. "You name things too quickly," he said, watching the way her hands lingered protectively around the animal.

"It’s not naming," she replied without looking up. "It’s... recognizing. I feel connected to this wolf-pup, and I hope I can keep him."