Talking to them got easier.
Not *easy*—my cheeks still burned every time someone smiled at me—but easier in the way a tight knot loosens one careful tug at a time.
Elowen kept me on her hip, steady and warm, the star blanket tucked around my shoulders like a cape that refused to be heroic.
The girls stayed on the hearth rug, voices gentle, questions slower, like they could tell I was balancing on the edge of courage.
Lysa told me about a silly game they played on the road—counting cloud shapes and naming them after scary things to make them less scary.
Etta admitted she was afraid of silence at night, so she hummed to herself until she fell asleep.
Marin tried to act tough, but kept glancing at the door like she didn't trust it.
Noa barely spoke, but whenever she did, it was blunt and honest.
Tali had a soft laugh that sounded like someone trying not to be loud.
And somehow… I kept answering.
Small replies.
Mumbled replies.
Replies with pouting.
But replies.
Elowen's presence stayed like an anchor in my ribs. Every time my voice wobbled, her hand rubbed my back once—slow and steady—and my loop calmed again.
After a while, my body started to feel… heavy.
Not dormant-heavy.
Just tired.
Safe-tired.
The kind of tired that sneaks up when you've been holding yourself together for too long and only now realize you can stop.
I blinked slowly.
The hearth's warmth crawled up my back.
Elowen's cloak smelled faintly like winter air and steel and something comforting I couldn't name.
Etta was saying something about honey candy again—very cruelly, in my opinion—when my eyelids dipped.
I forced them open.
"I'm listening," I insisted.
Noa squinted at me. "You're blinking like a sleepy cat."
"I'm not sleepy," I lied, and my voice came out softer than usual.
Elowen looked down, eyes warm. "Rin."
"What," I whispered.
Elowen's thumb brushed my cheek lightly. "You're safe."
My throat tightened, and I didn't know why. The words weren't a spell, but they hit like one.
I tried to respond with something dignified.
Instead, my body did something it had apparently been wanting to do all day.
I shifted closer.
Then closer.
Then—before my pride could throw itself in front of the action—
I nuzzled into Elowen's neck.
Not a careful lean.
Not a polite cuddle.
A full, small-baby nuzzle, forehead rubbing lightly against her collarbone, face tucking into that warm space under her jaw like it was instinct written into my bones.
The room went silent.
I froze mid-nuzzle.
My brain screamed.
**OH NO.**
I lifted my head slowly, cheeks burning so hot they hurt.
Five pairs of eyes stared at me.
Marin's mouth was open.
Etta's hands were pressed to her cheeks like she might explode.
Lysa looked like she'd just witnessed a sacred moment.
Tali's eyes were shining.
Noa just stared, expression flat—but her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.
Sable, across the room, made a strangled sound and turned away like she couldn't handle reality.
Maera didn't look up from the map.
But her voice drifted over without mercy.
"Contain your adorableness. This is a secure facility."
I made a distressed noise and tried to hide my face.
Too late.
Elowen had gone very still.
Not stiff.
Just… surprised.
Then her arms tightened around me gently, supportive and warm, and she lowered her voice so only I could hear.
"It's okay," she murmured.
My voice came out tiny and horrified. "My friends saw."
Elowen's tone softened even more. "They're not upset."
I peeked at the girls.
Etta squeaked. "That was so cute—!"
"I am not cute!" I snapped automatically, but my voice was weak and sleepy and betrayed me.
Marin giggled. "She nuzzled. She did the baby thing."
Tali whispered, reverent, "Like a kitten."
Noa nodded once. "You did."
My face went so red it felt like a fire spell.
"I— I didn't mean to," I stammered. "It was an accident."
Elowen's hand rubbed my back slowly, steadying. "It's not something you need to apologize for."
I tried to argue.
But my eyelids were getting heavier again, and the warmth of Elowen's neck and cloak kept pulling me back like gravity.
I fought it.
I truly tried.
"I'm not—" I whispered, words slipping, "I'm not… a kid…"
Elowen's voice was gentle and sure. "I know."
That was the last thing I clearly heard.
Because my head tipped forward again.
My cheek pressed against her shoulder.
And my body—traitorous, exhausted, safe—gave up.
I let out a small sigh that sounded ridiculously content.
Then I fell asleep.
Not dramatic.
Not forced.
Just… gone, like a child dozing off mid-conversation.
The room stayed quiet for a beat.
Then Etta whispered, like speaking in a chapel, "She fell asleep."
Marin whispered back, "In her mommy's arms."
Tali covered her mouth, eyes sparkling. "That's precious."
Noa said simply, "She trusts her."
Elowen didn't move.
She just held me carefully, shifting her stance so my neck was supported, blanket tucked up under my chin again.
Her face softened in a way that didn't belong to a Heroine in war.
It belonged to someone holding something fragile and beloved.
Sable whispered to Maera, "She's sleeping. That means we win, right?"
Maera replied, still deadpan, "It means we stop talking."
Sable nodded immediately—rare obedience—then mouthed silently to the girls: *quiet.*
The girls nodded too, suddenly solemn, like they'd been entrusted with a secret.
Elowen carried me toward the quieter side room without waking me, steps careful, one arm cradling my back, the other supporting my legs.
And as she passed the hearth, she whispered so softly it barely existed:
"You're safe, Rin."
Even asleep, my core loop hummed steady at the sound.
Even asleep, I leaned in closer—tiny, instinctive—like my body remembered the place it belonged.
For now.
In her arms.