asahsa)

The journey back to camp felt long, every step echoing in the stillness of the woods. The evening air was cool, but it did little to calm the restlessness that gnawed at Gale’s insides. His hands were still shaking, the adrenaline of earlier lingering in his veins like an old wound that refused to heal.

With every rustle in the trees, every snap of a twig underfoot, his heart skipped a beat. His body tensed, his eyes darting to every shadow that passed between the trees. He could feel his nerves on edge, a quiet hum of anxiety that never quite left. It wasn’t just the panic from before; it was everything—the thought of Kayla missing, the uncertainty of what might be out there, and the weight of the fight with Sage still heavy on his chest.

“Hey,” Sage’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft but firm. “You good?”

Gale flinched at the sound of his name, his heart rate kicking up a notch. He snapped his head toward Sage, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, just... jumpy, I guess.”

Sage didn’t buy it for a second. He noticed the way Gale’s body tensed every time they passed by a patch of thick brush or when a bird flapped its wings in the distance. It wasn’t just jumpiness. Gale was still holding onto that edge from earlier, the fight with the panic, and the worry about Kayla eating at him.

“Dude,” Sage said, his voice low but insistent, “you’re not fooling anyone.”

Gale grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. I just... everything’s a little off right now, okay?” He paused, looking down at the ground, then up at the darkening sky. “I’m fine. Just, you know... feeling every little thing out here.”

Sage studied him for a second, his brows furrowed in concern. He wasn’t sure what exactly was going on inside Gale’s head, but he could see how on edge he was. It was more than just nerves. There was something deeper, like a fuse that had been lit but hadn’t quite burned out yet.

Gale’s eyes flicked to the trees again, his jaw tightening, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to bolt. The sound of a bird flapping its wings in the distance made him jerk his head in that direction, his body locking up as if preparing for an attack.

Sage’s hand reached out, catching Gale’s shoulder before he could react. “Gale. Hey. Chill.”

Gale’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. His pulse was still racing, the noise from the forest closing in on him like a suffocating blanket. “I—I can’t,” he muttered. “It’s like everything’s a threat. Every sound. Every shadow.” His voice was tight, strained.

Sage didn’t let go. Instead, he gave Gale a firm but gentle shake, trying to pull him out of his head. “You’re still here. You’re with me. This isn’t the arena. This isn’t... that place. Just breathe.”

Gale’s breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts. It was like his body didn’t want to listen to the words, like the memory of the fight, the whistle, and the pressure of everything that had happened before still clung to him. His body was stuck in that moment, trapped between what was real now and what had been.

“Gale,” Sage said again, quieter this time, but with more patience. “Focus. Breathe. You're not back there. You're here. With me.”

The words started to work their way through the fog in Gale’s head, and slowly, he could feel the tension starting to ease. His breath, still unsteady, began to slow. He wiped a hand over his face, muttering to himself, trying to get the panic under control.

"God," he whispered, shaking his head. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I hate this."

Sage gave him a nod of understanding, his hand still on Gale's shoulder. “You’ve been through hell, man. It’s gonna take time.”

Gale nodded, but his mind kept racing. It was hard to slow it down, to make sense of it all when everything felt so unstable. Every little noise felt like a threat, and his body was still waiting for something bad to happen. He hated that feeling—the feeling of being on edge, of not knowing what to expect next.

The trees loomed over them, the path back to camp feeling longer than it should have. Gale’s eyes kept darting between the darkening shadows, as if the world was closing in around them. He could feel the weight of the night pressing down on him, the isolation of the woods like it was suffocating him.

Sage gave Gale a sympathetic look, his grip loosening. “You’re good, man. We’re almost back to camp. Just stay with me.”

Gale glanced at him, the briefest of smiles crossing his face. “Yeah... yeah, I’m good. Just need to keep moving, you know?”

Sage nodded, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their footsteps crunching on the dirt. But the tension was still there—unspoken, lingering in the air between them.

As they made their way back to camp, Gale’s senses were still heightened, but with each step, he felt a little more grounded. Slowly, the panic ebbed away, and the familiar sounds of their camp reached him—distant voices, the crackling of a fire.

It wasn’t much, but for the moment, it was enough.

Kayla didn't know when, but she ended up meandering back the way she'd come. She slowly began to hear the sounds of a town of some sort in the distance and followed it. Once she broke from the trees, she saw it was the same place. Kayla sighed, at a loss, before heading back to camp

Gale slumped down onto the log, his back against it, his hands folding behind his head as he tried to settle into a more comfortable position. The fire crackled before him, casting warm light on his face, but the warmth didn’t seem to reach the tightness in his chest. His breath was still ragged, coming in short, quick bursts as if he couldn’t quite catch up with the frantic rhythm his body had set.

His brow furrowed in concentration, but no matter how hard he tried to calm himself, the tension in his chest remained. It was like his body was still stuck in that moment of panic, as if the feeling of the blade in his hand and the echo of the whistle wouldn’t let him go. His heart beat too fast, too erratic, and every small sound—every movement in the trees—sent a jolt of adrenaline rushing through him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. He exhaled slowly, but it was shallow, the air seeming to catch in his lungs as he tried to focus on something other than the wild thumping in his chest.

It was then that he heard the familiar sound of paws padding softly against the dirt. Gale’s eyes flicked open, and without having to turn his head, he knew who it was. Varys.

The massive black wolf moved toward him, his sleek fur gleaming under the firelight. Varys sat beside him without a sound, as he always did. The wolf’s piercing yellow eyes, bright and unblinking, were fixed on the flames, his massive form casting a shadow across the ground.

Gale didn't look at him right away, instead choosing to focus on the fire, letting the shifting light distract him from the tightness in his chest. But he could feel Varys there—always a quiet presence, a steady one.

Varys sat quietly beside him, his posture relaxed, his attention on the fire. His steady presence helped, though Gale couldn’t quite explain why. There was something about the way the wolf simply was, without expectation, that calmed Gale’s erratic thoughts, even if only for a moment.

Gale let his head fall back against the log, staring up at the dark sky above him. The stars were dim, hidden by the thick canopy of trees, and the air around him felt thick and heavy, as if something was still out of place. His chest still heaved with every breath, but he focused on the rhythmic crackling of the fire, trying to let it ground him. It wasn’t easy—his thoughts kept spiraling, flicking back to the sound of the whistle, the fight, and everything that had gone wrong.

Varys didn’t speak, didn’t try to comfort him. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to remind Gale that he wasn’t truly alone in this. The wolf, in his silent way, was a reminder of the balance that had always been there, a solid, steady force when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

Gale exhaled, his breath still unsteady, his mind racing, but for a moment, he allowed himself to just be—to rest, to let the fire’s warmth seep into him, and to just breathe.

Varys turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watched the flames, but his presence remained constant, steady beside Gale. There was an unspoken bond between them, forged through countless nights like this, when the world felt too heavy and the silence was too loud.

Gale closed his eyes again, hands still behind his head, trying to pull in a full breath, but it was still shallow, still quick. His chest was tight, the panic lurking just under the surface, threatening to rise again. But for now, he wasn’t alone.

“God,” Gale muttered to the quiet night, his voice rough, “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me.”

Varys didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He was there, as solid as ever, and in that moment, it was enough. Even if the world felt off, even if Gale couldn’t shake the weight in his chest, Varys was with him. He had always been with him. And for some strange reason, that was enough to keep the worst of it at bay.

Gale let out another breath, this one slower, a little deeper, and for the first time that night, he felt a small flicker of calm. The shadows in the forest still stretched long, but for the moment, they were just shadows, and nothing was closing in.

For now, it was just him, Varys, and the fire. And that was enough.

Kayla arrived back at camp and didn't speak as she put her bow in the tent along with the arrows. She dropped one of her daggers onto the cot before going back into the woods to think. She was still slightly frightened, but also curious as to why Gale would react so harshly. Sage's explaination had been rushed, causing her to really understand bits and pieces at a time

Gale stayed there in silence for a while, the fire crackling as it slowly began to die down, leaving a soft glow that danced across the trees. His fingers drummed against his knees as the cool night air began to settle in, the weight of everything still hanging heavy in his chest.

The warmth from the fire had started to fade, but Varys remained at his side, a solid, unwavering presence. Gale let his eyes close for a moment, the flicker of the flames behind his eyelids offering the slightest comfort. He had never been good at sitting still with his thoughts, but something about the wolf's quiet company helped. It didn’t make the guilt or the panic go away, but it made it… manageable. A little more bearable.

His breath evened out gradually, though his body still felt like it was on edge. The memory of almost harming Sage, of the knife slipping through the air and the blood spilling too easily—it haunted him, replaying over and over in his mind, no matter how much he wished it would stop. He knew Sage had left, disappeared into the woods, probably to distance himself from the chaos.

But even now, the thought of Sage’s pained expression, his own hands trembling as he stood there, still tore at Gale.

"God, I don’t know what to do." Gale murmured, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been this shaken, this lost. How did you go on after something like that? After pushing someone so far that they nearly became a casualty of your own weakness?

Varys let out a low growl, as if to remind him he wasn’t entirely alone in this. Gale glanced down at the wolf, meeting the creature’s yellow eyes for a brief moment.

"Yeah," Gale said softly, leaning back into the log. "I guess I have you, huh?" He didn’t expect a response—Varys didn’t speak, after all—but the presence was enough. In a way, the wolf was a silent reminder that maybe it wasn’t the end of the world. There was still something left. Still something worth fighting for.

The sounds of the forest around him—the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant calls of birds settling for the night—finally started to pull at Gale’s mind, slowing the rapid spin of his thoughts. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to bring his head out of the fog for a moment.

His fingers dug into the dirt beneath him as he tried to center himself. His breathing finally slowed, even if the heaviness in his chest lingered. He knew he had to make things right with Sage, somehow. That was the only way forward. He couldn’t let this fracture between them be the end.

“I’ll fix this,” Gale muttered to himself, not sure if he believed it yet. But the words felt good, even if they were only a small step toward redemption.

He rose to his feet slowly, the weight of his thoughts still heavy on his shoulders, but the presence of Varys made it just a little easier to move. The wolf gave him one last glance, then stood and padded a few steps forward, as if waiting for Gale to follow.

Gale took a deep breath, wiped the sweat off his palms, and nodded to himself.

"Alright," he said quietly, walking toward the edge of the camp. "I’m coming. Let’s find him."

As he moved through the forest, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above, Gale’s thoughts were still scattered, still shaken by what had almost happened. But he was moving forward. He was going to make it right. And this time, he wouldn’t let fear or guilt hold him back.

He wouldn’t let Sage slip away—not when he still had a chance to fix things.

Kayla climbed a nearby tree and took a branch before mindlessly carving, letting the small pieces that came off fall to the ground silently. She had a small smile playing on her lips, the kind that only existed in contentment

*(* BLACKWATER CAMP **

(*) MAIN FIREPLACE (*)

The fire had burned low, the crackling embers casting fleeting shadows around the camp. Gale’s eyelids felt heavy, like they were made of stone, but the quiet whispers of the night—the rustling of the trees, the distant calls of owls—kept him tethered to the present. His thoughts were still scattered, a jumbled mess of guilt, fear, and lingering panic. But as he sat there, his back pressed against the log, Varys’ steady presence next to him began to soften the sharp edges of his mind.

The warmth of the fire on his skin and the cool night air helped. It wasn’t a cure, it wasn’t going to fix what had happened with Sage, but it was something—something he could hold onto for now. His chest still felt tight, and his breath was a little too quick, but the darkness of the night seemed to wrap around him, softening the chaos inside.

The wolf sat beside him, quiet and patient, his golden eyes flicking between the fire and Gale, never straying far. There was no need for words. Varys wasn’t here to talk; he was here to be, and that was more than enough.

Gale shifted slightly, adjusting his position as he tried to find a more comfortable spot on the log. It didn’t work. His body ached with exhaustion, but his mind—his mind was still running, never quite able to stop. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his face, and let out a slow, steady breath.

The silence stretched on, only broken by the crackling of the fire and the occasional whisper of the wind. Gradually, his breathing started to slow, the tightness in his chest loosening ever so slightly. He closed his eyes again, but this time, he didn’t force himself to fight the exhaustion.

Gale wasn’t sure how long he sat there, half-conscious, just staring into the dying fire, his thoughts half-formed. The world around him blurred, the weight of the day, the panic, the fear—it all seemed distant now, like it was happening to someone else.

He felt the soft brush of Varys’ fur against his leg, and something in that simple contact made his eyes flutter closed. The wolf’s steady presence anchored him, pulling him away from the spiraling thoughts that usually kept him awake. The warmth from the fire on his skin, the cool air around him, and the quiet comfort of the camp—it all worked together to coax him into a fragile, dreamless sleep.

His head tilted forward slowly, chin resting against his chest, as his breath finally evened out. His body felt heavy with the pull of exhaustion, and despite the chaos that had been tearing at him only moments before, Gale let himself drift into the darkness.

He didn’t know how long it would last, this fragile peace. But for now, it was enough. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Gale let the weight of the world fall away, just for a little while.

The last thing he felt was the reassuring presence of Varys sitting beside him, watchful, waiting in the quiet of the night.

Kayla kept mindlessly carving, her thoughts not even there unlike how they usually were. She sighed, dropping the stick and hopping gently out of the tree. She slowly walked back to camp, went into the tent, and sat on the floor. She leaned against a tent pole, closing her eyes

*(* BLACKWATER CAMP **

(*) MAIN FIREPLACE (*)

Gale’s eyes fluttered open, the dark sky above him a blurry smear of stars. His first thought was that something felt off—his body was heavy, like it was made of stone. He tried to move, to stretch out, but his limbs didn’t respond. His fingers, which he could usually wiggle without thinking, were completely still, locked in place.

Panic flared in his chest, cold and sharp, the tightness in his throat reminding him of the moments before a panic attack. He tried to call out, to shout, to make some sound, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. His throat remained still, his voice trapped inside, a hollow scream that couldn’t escape.

He tried to inhale deeply, but the air felt thick, like it was trapped behind a wall. No matter how hard he tried to move his chest, his ribs, his lungs… nothing. Everything stayed frozen. His heart was racing, but he couldn’t do anything to calm it. He couldn’t even feel the beat beneath his skin, just the frantic pounding in his chest.

His mind was wide awake, fully aware, but his body? It felt like it belonged to someone else. He tried to focus on the sounds around him, but everything was quiet. No fire crackling, no wind whispering through the trees, no rustling of leaves. It was as if the world itself had gone mute.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Each time, his vision shifted slightly, but nothing changed. His eyes, though able to blink, couldn’t focus. They were working, but not in the way he needed them to. He wanted to call out, to scream, to beg for someone to notice that he was stuck, that he was trapped in his own body—but nothing happened.

He tried to force his legs to move, but there was nothing—no muscle response. He tried to shift his arms, to reach out, to do anything, but they felt like they were made of lead, too heavy, too unyielding. He couldn’t feel them anymore, couldn’t feel his fingers, his toes, his legs.

The terror began to rise in his chest, tight and suffocating. Was this some kind of spell? Had something happened to him? Or was this… a nightmare?

His mind raced, spinning in confusion. He tried to look around, to move his head even a little, but his neck wouldn’t obey him either. All he could do was blink, the soft flutter of his eyelids the only sign that he was even awake at all.

It felt like hours passed, though it was probably only minutes. Each blink felt like a small victory, but it was a hollow one. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t move anything.

In that moment, all Gale could feel was the horrifying, claustrophobic weight of being completely helpless. His heart pounded, trapped inside his chest, but he couldn’t even scream out for help.

Was he truly stuck in his own body? Or was this just another nightmare, one that he’d wake up from in the blink of an eye?

Sage appeared,Gale shifting to sit up.

Sage had his head in his hands,a even worse look in his eyes then when Gale tried to end him.

"Sage,Sage what is it?" Gale asks frantically,looking over at him.

Sage sighed and locked onto Gale's gaze.

-No,not something bad-

"The king never died."

Gale's eyes went wide,him remembering being chained,poisoned,broken,tortured,hurt,cut,branded. "No,no we need to get moving.Right now.If the king is still alive then he'll be looking for me mainly,Kayla,who is his daughter,and you.Since you've done almost equally things as me." Sage looked at him,standing with a look.

"Gale,he's not going to know where we are.We're safe here." He tried explaining,Gale standing and shaking his head.

"No,we aren't.Who's the one who was captured by the king?Who's the one who has been broken only once an that was by the king?It was me,Sage.You have no idea what he'll do behind closed doors.We're leaving.Get your stuff before I leave you behind." Gale snapped,walking into the tent and pulling on his cloak,putting his daggers in their sheaths,and slinging his two bows across his back.He walked out,grabbing a flask and calling over Varys.

"Kayla?" Gale called out,looking around.

Kayla awoke, hearing Gale's voice. She placed bothof her daggers on her hips before following his voice to him. Her hand slightly twitched toward her dagger, still a bit scared