Gale did'nt say anything else,just turned and left.

She watched him leave and went back to his tent, sitting in her usual spot and sighing. She wanted an explaination as to why he was so angry looking whenever he spoke to her

The warmth of the campfire flickered against the cold night air, but Gale could feel the chill seeping deeper into his bones, the weight of exhaustion pressing harder with every breath. He had survived, but he wasn’t out of danger yet. The bandits had left him with more than just bruises—his body ached in ways he hadn’t felt before, his injuries deep and unforgiving.

Through the haze of pain, he could hear movement, the sound of leather rustling, the scrape of a blade being sharpened. The man who had pulled him from the fight was working, methodical and quick, his movements efficient as he checked Gale’s wounds.

“Hold still,” the man’s voice cut through the fog, low but commanding. Gale barely managed a nod, his eyes half-lidded as the world seemed to tilt.

The rescuer—tall, with a rugged face hidden beneath a dark hood—pulled Gale’s cloak aside and examined the wound on his shoulder. It was deep, the crossbow bolt still lodged in his flesh, a reminder of how close he had come to not making it back. The other cuts on his arm and chest were just as severe, but nothing compared to the agony of the bolt.

“Not much time,” the man muttered to himself. “If I don’t get this out soon, it’ll fester. You’ll bleed out before morning.”

Gale didn’t have the energy to respond, but he felt the rough hands on his shoulder as the man gripped the crossbow bolt and gave a sharp tug. Gale gasped, his vision flickering as pain shot through his body, but somehow, he remained conscious.

The man wasted no time. He reached for a small vial of antiseptic and poured it over the wound, the sting making Gale flinch despite himself. The man’s hands were steady, moving with the kind of precision born from experience.

“You’re lucky,” the man said, his voice softer now. “Luck’s been on your side tonight.”

Gale, barely able to lift his head, let out a weak laugh. "Doesn’t feel like it."

The man didn’t respond, continuing his work. He dressed the wounds swiftly, tightening the bandages around Gale’s shoulder and chest. Gale’s breathing steadied, though the fatigue still gnawed at him. His thoughts kept slipping, hazy, but he felt a strange sense of gratitude toward this stranger who had saved him.

“You could’ve left me,” Gale managed, his voice hoarse from pain and exhaustion.

The man paused for a moment, as if considering the words. Then, without meeting his eyes, he said, “No one deserves to die out here alone. Not like that.”

Gale closed his eyes for a moment, his mind drifting. It felt good to hear something that wasn’t about survival. The weight of the world had been pressing down on him for so long—his past, his purpose, the constant need to be ready for the next fight. It was rare to hear something that reminded him he wasn’t just a weapon or a target. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to rest, to hope.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

Suddenly, the crackling of the fire grew louder, and Gale's eyes snapped open. He tensed, instinctively reaching for his dagger, but the stranger was already standing, his hand on the hilt of his own blade, eyes scanning the darkness beyond the camp.

“Stay down,” the man said, his voice tight. “We’re not alone anymore.”

Gale’s heart pounded in his chest. More? Already?

There was no time to process it. The sound of footsteps on the soft earth echoed through the clearing, slow and deliberate, but too many to be a simple wanderer. The man beside the fire, still crouched low, readied himself for a fight.

A dark figure emerged from the trees, a silhouette against the fading light. Gale's heart skipped a beat. His vision was still blurry from the injuries, but the figure’s presence was unmistakable. One of the bandits from earlier.

The man stepped forward, his eyes locking with Gale’s for a brief, painful moment. “I should’ve finished you earlier,” the bandit hissed, a malicious grin forming beneath his hood. His voice was raspy, filled with venom.

Before Gale could react, the bandit moved, a crossbow aimed straight at him. He felt his heart skip, his body frozen in place. He was too slow—too beaten. But just as the bolt was released, the stranger lunged from the shadows, moving with terrifying speed.

The bandit barely had time to register the shift before the stranger was upon him, his blade cutting through the air with a deadly swiftness. The man’s strike was clean, precise, and the bandit crumpled to the ground with a grunt, blood seeping out from the wound in his side.

The stranger didn’t wait for the body to fall. With a sharp kick, he sent the crossbow flying out of the bandit’s hand and quickly checked the surrounding area, his posture tense as if expecting more to follow.

Gale's vision swam again, dizziness hitting him harder now. He could hear the stranger’s voice, distant, as if from underwater.

“We can’t stay here,” the man said, sounding urgent. “You’ve been too long in the fight. I’m not letting you die here.”

But Gale couldn’t respond. His thoughts were scattered, and his body was shutting down, each breath more labored than the last. He could feel the blood still seeping from his wounds, the pain dulling everything else, until everything became dark.

---

Gale woke to the sound of the wind rustling the trees, the air cooler than before. His body felt sore, aching, but he was lying on something soft now. A bedroll. His injuries were bandaged, his limbs wrapped in cloth to keep him warm. His camp, the fire, the stranger—all distant memories.

He tried to sit up, but a hand pushed him back down gently.

“Easy,” the man said, his voice more familiar now. “You’re still healing.”

Gale blinked, the world coming back into focus slowly. He saw the stranger sitting by the fire, his back to him. A small pot bubbled over the flames, and the scent of something cooking filled the air. It was quiet, peaceful—strangely so.

"Where..." Gale started, his voice hoarse.

"You’re safe for now," the stranger replied. "We’re in the hills, not far from Iekburgg. You needed time."

Gale closed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion wash over him. He had survived—barely. But there was still a long road ahead.

And in that silence, with only the crackling fire to keep them company, Gale realized that despite everything—the blood, the pain, the fight—he was still alive.

The night was falling over the large camp, its vast expanse stretching out under the pale light of the moon. Gale’s camp had never been small—more a collection of tents, campfires, and people than a single homestead. It was a place that had grown over the years, a haven of sorts for those who sought refuge or had nowhere else to go. Gale had spent his whole life here, learning to survive in a world that always seemed on the brink of chaos.

Sage sat by the fire, sharpening his blade with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. His presence was always a comfort—steady, unbothered, and always ready with a quip. Gale, though exhausted, had finally made it back to camp after their ordeal with the bandits. His injuries were still fresh, the weight of battle having left him drained, but the familiar sight of the camp—his home—made it easier to breathe.

“Did you bring the whole forest with you?” Sage teased, tossing a glance over at Gale, who was settling by the fire. “You’re covered in dirt and blood. Again.”

Gale didn’t respond at first, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his cloak, the rough fabric irritating the raw skin from his wounds. The dull ache in his side reminded him just how close he had come to not making it back. But the familiar sound of the camp—voices calling out in the distance, the crackle of distant fires, the hum of life—was enough to push that thought away. For now, at least.

“I’m fine,” Gale muttered, his voice hoarse, though there was an underlying gratitude in it. “I made it, didn’t I?”

Sage didn’t seem convinced, though he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he continued to work on his blade, his movements as smooth as ever. “You always make it back, somehow. You’ve got more lives than a damn cat.”

Gale allowed a small chuckle to escape him, though it quickly turned into a grimace as his side protested the movement. His laughter faded, but the smile remained, albeit a faint one.

“I don’t know how,” Gale said, the fatigue in his voice more evident now. “It feels like every time I come back, there’s always something more waiting.”

“That’s the way it goes,” Sage replied, his voice light but knowing. “You’ve got a knack for finding trouble. But that’s why I’m here.”

Gale glanced over at him, his eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion. “And you’re not sick of it by now?”

Sage smirked, wiping the blade with a cloth and sheathing it. “Nah. Someone has to keep you alive. Besides, you’d probably get yourself killed without me.”

“True,” Gale muttered, half-smiling again. “I owe you one.”

Sage stretched and leaned back, glancing up at the stars that were beginning to emerge in the sky above. He took a deep breath, the quiet sounds of the camp enveloping them both.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sage said after a beat. “You’ve always had my back, too. It’s not about debts, it’s just...what we do.”

Gale’s gaze drifted across the camp, his eyes scanning the familiar faces—the soldiers, the traders, the wanderers who had settled here just like he had. He knew every person by name, had fought alongside many of them, shared meals and stories, had watched as others came and went. It wasn’t a perfect place, but it was home. For better or worse, this camp was where Gale had grown up, where he had learned to fight, to survive. It was where he had learned the hardest lessons of all—the ones that didn’t come from books or from teachings, but from experience.

As he let his gaze wander, his mind wandered as well, his thoughts circling back to the bandits from earlier. He knew that his path wasn’t just about survival anymore. There was something bigger out there, something he was meant to do. But for now, the camp, and Sage, were enough.

“I can’t stay here forever,” Gale said quietly, more to himself than to Sage. “I’ve always known that.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, looking over at him. “You planning on leaving? Again?”

Gale shrugged, his fingers absently brushing over the worn leather of his quiver. “I don’t know. Maybe. I feel like there’s more out there. Something I need to find.”

Sage didn’t respond right away, just watching Gale with a thoughtful expression. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable; it was just a pause, a moment where neither of them had the answers they needed.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Sage finally said, his voice steady, unwavering. “Whatever it is. I’ve got your back, always.”

Gale met his friend’s gaze, the weight of their bond settling between them. There were few people Gale could truly trust, but Sage was one of them. A best friend who had been through it all with him—the losses, the victories, the moments when it seemed like they wouldn’t make it. The kind of person you could depend on without question.

For a moment, Gale allowed himself to relax. Just a little. He wasn’t alone in this fight. And that made all the difference.

Kayla slowly drifted into a light sleep

Kayla kept sleeping

The night passed slowly, and Gale’s rest was fitful at best. His body ached in ways he hadn’t anticipated, each movement bringing sharp reminders of the battle with the bandits. The silence of his tent felt suffocating at times, the quiet only broken by the occasional rustle of the camp outside. The firelight from the campfires outside flickered through the canvas of his tent, casting shadows on the walls.

Gale shifted on his cot, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was no use. The pain in his side flared every time he moved, and his muscles felt tight and sore from the earlier fight. He hadn’t realized how much he had pushed himself until he tried to sleep, but now that the darkness was around him, the weight of it all pressed in.

He had only just closed his eyes when a faint sound from outside caught his attention—a soft voice, calling his name.

“Gale?” It was Sage’s voice, cutting through the quiet of the night, low and laced with a touch of concern. “You in there?”

Gale groaned softly, his body stiff as he rose from the cot. His movements were slow, reluctant. It was clear from the tone of Sage’s voice that his best friend wasn’t going to let him lie around and rest in peace. It wasn’t unusual for Sage to check in on him—he always did after a rough day—but Gale wasn’t sure he was ready for another conversation about his wounds.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Gale called back, trying to keep his voice steady. He swung his legs off the cot and stood up, letting out a sharp breath as the room tilted. The dizziness that had accompanied his earlier exhaustion had not quite passed, but he steadied himself against the tent pole.

Another pause followed before Sage’s voice called out again. “I figured. You good to move? I’ve been looking for you.”

Gale groaned, half-laughing at the irony. "Looking for me? I’m not sure I can even move right now."

He took a deep breath, forcing his stiff legs into motion. The pain in his shoulder and side were persistent, gnawing at him with every step, but he wasn’t about to let Sage think he was down for the count. Not now. Not when Sage had already saved his skin one too many times.

Gale moved toward the entrance of the tent, the flap brushing against him as he stepped out into the cool night air. The camp stretched out before him—dozens of tents, campfires still glowing dimly in the distance, people talking in low voices, moving about in their usual night rhythms. It was a familiar sight, and for a moment, Gale felt a small pang of comfort. He wasn’t alone here, not with Sage and the others around.

A few paces away, Gale spotted Sage standing near the edge of the camp, looking around, clearly waiting for him. He was as unbothered as usual, his arms crossed, his bow resting casually against his shoulder.

“About time you showed up,” Sage remarked with a smirk, though there was a note of concern in his voice. “I was starting to think you had crawled off somewhere to die quietly.”

Gale managed a weak smile, though the effort was painful. “You make it sound so dramatic.”

“You know I don’t do anything halfway,” Sage shot back, his grin widening. “But seriously, you alright? You look like you just wrestled a bear.”

Gale stood up straight, wincing as his body protested the movement. “A bear? Try a dozen bandits. Same thing, really.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t need to joke about it, you know. You took a hit. More than one, by the look of it. You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine just because we’re back in camp.”

Gale sighed, shaking his head, but the faintest trace of a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fine, Sage. Just sore. But I’ll live.”

Sage’s eyes softened, though his usual teasing expression never quite left his face. “You sure about that? You look like you could use more than just a little rest. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re barely holding it together.”

Gale rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as the motion pulled at his shoulder. “I’m getting there. I just need a bit of quiet.” He paused, glancing around at the camp again, the faint sounds of the night enveloping them. “What are you looking for me for, anyway?”

Sage shrugged, uncrossing his arms. “Thought we could check on a few things before calling it a night. I know you’ve got a million things running through your head, but we need to talk about the bandits. And... other stuff, too.”

“Other stuff?” Gale raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “Like what?”

Sage looked around briefly, as if checking to make sure no one was listening. “Like what you’re planning next,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You know, after all this. You’ve been talking about leaving the camp for a while now. I figured it’s time to get serious about it.”

Gale stiffened at the mention of leaving. The thought had been at the back of his mind for weeks now, but the idea of actually acting on it made him uneasy. He had always considered the camp his home, despite everything that had happened here. And leaving? That meant something entirely different.

“I don’t know yet,” Gale replied, his voice uncertain. “I haven’t had the time to think about it. I’m just trying to get through one fight at a time.”

Sage nodded, his face serious now. “I get it. But you can’t ignore it forever. You’ve been talking about finding something more, something bigger. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed it.”

Gale exhaled slowly, his mind racing as he thought about the road ahead. He had always known there was something more, something out there beyond the safety of the camp. But the truth was, he didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know if he was ready to face it all.

“Maybe,” Gale said quietly. “Maybe it’s time to stop running from it.”

Sage’s expression softened, but he didn’t push the issue further. “Whenever you’re ready, Gale. I’ll be here. Just don’t try to do it alone, alright?”

Gale nodded, his chest tight but his heart strangely lighter. Whatever lay ahead, he wouldn’t have to face it alone. Not with Sage by his side.

Kayla slept, dreaming of Gale

Gale’s mind lingered on the conversation with Sage as he slowly made his way back to his tent. The cool night air bit at his skin, and his muscles still felt stiff, but the lingering ache in his body was easier to ignore now. His thoughts drifted between the questions Sage had raised—about leaving the camp, about the next steps, about something bigger that had been tugging at him for so long. But as he approached his tent again, his attention shifted, and the restlessness of the world outside seemed to fade into the background.

As he slipped back inside the familiar canvas walls, a quiet sense of comfort washed over him. The warmth of the space, the smell of cedarwood, and the soft rustle of the camp breeze outside—these things were his constant, his refuge. But it wasn’t just the tent itself. It was what—or who—was inside.

Kayla.

She was lying on the side of his cot, curled up in a quiet, peaceful sleep. She had been with Gale for only a week now, but in that short time, it felt as though she had been a part of this world for much longer. Her face was relaxed, no longer clouded by the tension that had marked their first few days together—those long days after he had taken her, forcibly pulled her from the life she had known and brought her to this camp. She had fought him then, refused to understand, but now, in her sleep, she looked as though she had somehow come to accept it, at least for now.

Gale stood quietly by the entrance, watching her for a moment. He had been so focused on the turmoil of his own thoughts, the weight of the decisions he had to make, that it was easy to forget the people who depended on him. Kayla wasn’t just another face in the camp—she was more than that, something deeper. She was someone he’d dragged into a world she hadn’t chosen. And the guilt hit him again, heavier than before.

A week ago, he had made that choice for her. He had taken her away from her home, from everything she knew, and brought her into the camp—into this dangerous, unpredictable world. Not entirely comfortable, but resigned, maybe. Or perhaps just exhausted. The defiance had faded, replaced by something else—something Gale wasn’t sure how to name.

As he moved toward the cot, the weight of his own guilt felt suffocating. He had taken her freedom, taken her choice. She didn’t ask for this, he thought, his chest tightening. I made her part of this life.

He knelt down beside the cot, his gaze softening as he watched her sleep. The steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair framed her face—she looked so much younger in this moment, so vulnerable. Gale’s fingers brushed against the edge of her blanket, and a strange sense of protectiveness stirred in him. But that protectiveness was tainted by the knowledge of what he had done.

He had only brought her here a week ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

Gale exhaled a shaky breath. "I’m sorry, Kayla," he muttered under his breath, though the words felt small, insignificant compared to the weight of his actions. “I should’ve never dragged you into this. You never asked for any of this... I never gave you a choice. I’m sorry.”

His voice was barely a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud somehow made the apology feel more real. His chest tightened at the thought of what he had done, what it had cost her. The world he had pulled her into was one of constant danger, and no matter how hard he tried to protect her, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Gale couldn’t erase the guilt. It gnawed at him, kept him up at night, made every interaction with her feel like a reminder of how he had failed her.

He leaned in closer, watching her sleep for just a moment longer. He didn’t deserve her trust, didn’t deserve her kindness or her patience. Yet, she was still here, still breathing, still in this tent. And that alone—her presence—made the guilt feel a little less suffocating.

Gale gently adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, his movements slow and careful, not wanting to wake her. He didn’t know what she dreamed of, what went through her mind when she wasn’t guarding herself, but he hoped that, for just a moment, she could find some peace. She deserved that much at least.

“I’ll make it right,” he whispered quietly, his voice almost breaking. “Somehow. I’ll figure out a way to make things right for you.”

He didn’t know how he would do it, didn’t know if he even could, but the words felt like a promise, even if it was just to himself. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but he would try. He had to.

With one last lingering look, Gale slowly pulled back, rising to his feet. He stood there for a moment, watching her, before slipping quietly out of the tent, leaving her to her sleep. Outside, the night was still, but inside him, the turmoil remained.

Maybe he had taken her away from her life, but maybe, just maybe, he could still give her something worth staying for.

Kayla woke a couple hours later, and got up. She placed the blanket on his bed and stood. She stretched slightly, walking out and to the spot she liked in the forest