The words fell heavily into the quiet cave, rough and solemn, like an oath carved into stone rather than something spoken aloud, and the moment they left his mouth the entire space seemed to still around them.
Even the faint crackle of the herb bundles hanging near the entrance felt distant, as though the air itself had paused to witness the gesture.
Jaren's knees pressed into the dirt without hesitation.
His back was straight despite the lingering weakness in his limbs, head lowered, palms flat against the ground in front of her in the most ancient posture of surrender their tribe possessed.
It was not thanks.
It was not gratitude.
It was submission.
Ningning stared at him blankly for two full seconds.
Then her brain short-circuited.
"…Wait. No. No, no, no."
Her voice came out hoarse and tired but distinctly alarmed.
She immediately tried to sit up straighter, only for the soreness in her abdomen to protest sharply.
