Felicity woke to the uncomfortable realisation that she was being stared at.
Not in a sharp way. Not the hungry way. The careful way. The kind people used when they weren't sure if you were fragile or dangerous and didn't want to guess wrong.
She kept her eyes closed a moment longer out of spite.
Whoever held her hadn't shifted. Not when her breathing changed, nor when her fingers flexed. That told her more than opening her eyes could.
Victor. Relief laced with resignation settled in her chest.
She exhaled and leaned into his certainty, steady arm around her, warmth at her side. He was a solid wall of heat and muscle, immovable in the quiet way mountains were.
Her ribs protested, but the pain was muted, as if her body hadn't decided if drama was warranted.
"You're awake," Victor said quietly.
His voice was low enough that it didn't carry across camp. It vibrated against her back more than it reached her ears.
She hummed in acknowledgment, then frowned.
