The road to Lioria was long and sun-drenched, carved between endless fields of grass. Birds followed overhead, their wings casting brief shadows over the dirt path.
For seven days, it had just been the two of you—you and Gepard.
Just footsteps, quiet laughter, and the strange comfort of his steady presence beside yours.
The morning had a stillness to it—like the world was holding its breath.
"You walk like a squirrel," Gepard muttered as he adjusted the sword at his hip.
You blinked. Squirrels are fast. "That's a compliment, right?"
"No, they're twitchy and suspicious," he said, squinting at you with a mock-serious expression. You keep looking at everything like it's about to jump out and eat you."
"That's because the last village did try to eat me. I'm not risking it again."
Gepard let out a soft laugh. It was rare to hear but warmer than you expected.
The past days had brought out a softer side of him—one you weren't sure he even noticed. He didn't speak much at first. But now, he waited when you paused to look at wildflowers.
He caught your wrist when you stumbled on uneven ground. And once, just once, you caught him smiling at you when he thought you weren't looking.
You walked in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke again.
"You always walk ahead of me. You trust me that little?"
"No," you said, slowing your steps, ''I just like leading the way. I… don't like when people walk behind me. Makes me feel like I'm being chased."
He didn't respond immediately. Then—"Alright then, I'll walk beside you."
Your eyes flicked toward him. He wasn't smiling this time. Just... looking ahead, as if that simple statement settled something between you both.
The wind rustled the tall grass, brushing against your hands like a whisper. For a moment, the world felt too peaceful.
And that's when the first arrow struck the dirt inches from your feet.
Gepard shoved you down just as a second arrow cut through the air. You fell against him, breath knocked from your lungs, and he cursed under his breath.
'"Ambush! Down—stay down!''
Three masked figures burst from the brush, blades drawn, feet silent on the grass. Gepard drew his sword in one motion and stepped in front of you. You barely had time to catch your breath before the first attacker lunged.
Steel clashed. Gepard blocked and parried, his movements were so fast and practiced—but there were too many. He gritted his teeth, catching a blade on his shoulder to protect your side.
Blood sprayed.
"Gepard!" you shouted, reaching out instinctively—but he snapped back.
"Run! Get to the trees!"
You hesitated. Just a second. Just long enough for one of the attackers to grab your wrist.
And then Gepard was there. His sword met flesh with a sickening sound, and the attacker crumpled. He didn't even look at them—his eyes were only on you.
"Now!" he barked, wincing as he staggered forward.
You grabbed his arm, and together, you ran.
The forest wasn't far—but it felt endless. Branches whipped your face. The wind picked up behind you, howling through the trees like the sky itself was breaking.
Gepard's breathing was ragged. Blood stained the side of his coat. You could feel the heat of fever already building in his skin.
You didn't let go of him. Not once.
By the time you stopped running, you were deep in the woods—far from the road. The light was dim here, caught between the leaves. The storm clouds were rolling in now, dark and fast.
Gepard collapsed against a tree, groaning.
"You're hurt," you said, kneeling beside him.
"I've had worse," he muttered—but his skin was pale, and sweat had already gathered at his brow.
You reached for your satchel, tearing strips from a spare shirt, trying to remember what Corporal Mireya once taught you about field bandages.
"I'm not… very good at this," you whispered.
Gepard glanced at you—his eyes softer than they had been all day.
'"You're doing fine, Wanderer."
You bit your lip. "You got hurt protecting me. Again."
He leaned his head back against the bark, exhaling.
"That's the job, isn't it? Protecting the weak."
You didn't laugh.
"I'm sorry," you said. I should've seen it coming. I let you walk into danger."
He opened his eyes. For once, there was no teasing in them.
"I chose this. You didn't make me. So don't carry that guilt, alright?"
Thunder cracked in the distance. You both looked up as the first raindrops began to fall, soft and cold against your skin.
"We need shelter," you said.
"Give me a minute. Just… let the world stop spinning first."
He smiled faintly.
And for a moment, the storm was quiet.
You found an old abandoned cabin deeper in the woods—nothing more than four walls and a leaky roof, but it was enough. You helped him inside, your shoulder pressed tight beneath his arm. He was burning up. His wound had reopened during the run. You set him down on the dusty cot and covered him with your cloak.
Gepard's eyes fluttered.
"You're staying?" he murmured.
"Of course."
You pressed your hand to his forehead. Too hot. You dipped a cloth into your canteen and laid it gently across his brow.
He sighed.
"You're not as twitchy as a squirrel anymore."
You smiled.
"And you're not as grumpy as a captain should be."
His lips twitched into a weak grin.
"Wanderer," he whispered, eyes already drifting closed. Thanks."
You didn't answer. You just sat beside him, hand resting on his, listening to the storm rage outside. The thunder didn't scare you tonight.
Because for once, someone had stayed.