Lian didn't waste time questioning the gift. He gathered Yueshuang, checked the horse's saddle straps, and mounted in one fluid motion.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"Thank me by keeping her alive," the bandit replied. "And if you make it through this, boy, remember—love like that is rarer than gold. Don't waste it."
Then he and his men melted into the forest, moving to intercept the riders, to buy Lian precious minutes to escape.
Lian urged the exhausted horse north, toward the river, toward the outpost, toward hope. Behind him, he heard shouts, the clash of steel, the sounds of combat erupting in the darkness.
He didn't look back.
The bond pulsed weakly. Yueshuang's breath against his chest was barely perceptible.
"Hold on," he whispered into her hair, the same mantra he'd been repeating for hours. "We're almost there. Just hold on."
The horse plunged into the darkness, carrying them away from pursuit, toward salvation.
