The morning didn't arrive cleanly.
It seeped in through smoke and heat, turning the sky a dull copper instead of blue. The battlefield lay quiet. It was not peaceful, just exhausted. Fires burned where no one bothered to put them out yet. Med teams moved in straight lines, methodical, stepping over shattered stone and collapsed bodies of beasts and humans.
Recovery had begun.
Ren sat on a broken slab of rock with his boots in ash, elbows on his knees. Someone had wrapped his forearm properly this time. The sting had faded into a deep ache. It was annoying, manageable.
Elara was a few steps away, kneeling beside a wounded Solaran scout, tightening a bandage with careful hands.
"Not too tight," the scout muttered.
"If it hurts, you'll tell me," Elara said. "If you pass out, I'll assume it was fine."
The scout huffed a weak laugh.
Ren watched her longer than he meant to.
