The return to the cabin was a calvary of silence, broken only by Hayjin's heavy breathing and the crunch of Rhaegalur's boots on the carpet of pine needles. The sun was now sinking behind the jagged peaks of Exilia, tinting the sky a bruised purplea lmost the same color as the contusions beginning to bloom across the boy's body. Rhaegalur carried Hayjin as if he were a precious but fragile bundle, holding him steady against his armored chest to prevent the jolts of the path from worsening his rib injuries.
Hayjin, despite the searing pain in his shoulder and the taste of iron still coating his mouth, was awake. His eyes, glassy from the receding adrenaline fever, stared at the treetops passing above him. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt like a survivor. Every jolt extracted a stifled groan, but there was a spark of pride in his gaze: he had looked death in the eyes and defeated it with an equation.
When the reassuring silhouette of the cabin appeared through the evening mist, the door swung open almost instantly. Elara was on the threshold, the warm light of the lanterns behind her casting a dark and menacing shadow. As soon as she saw Hayjin's state the torn tunic, the clotted blood on his thigh, and the limp arm her face shifted from relief to primordial fury.
"Rhaegalur!" she screamed, her tone so sharp that even the nocturnal birds fell silent. "What have you done? What did you do to him?!"
Rhaegalur entered the house without a word, laying Hayjin down with extreme gentleness on the fur-lined bench near the fire. The moment he straightened up, Elara was upon him.
"I told you to train him, not send him to the slaughter!" she cried, her voice breaking with anguish. "He's a child, Rhaegalur! A child who knows nothing of these beasts! Look at the state he's in!"
Rhaegalur tried to open his mouth. "Elara, listen, he had to understand variation..."
CRACK.
The sound of Elara's fist striking Rhaegalur's jaw echoed through the ceiling beams. It was a sharp, precise blow, fueled by all the frustration of a woman who had waited for hours fearing the worst. The giant's head snapped sideways, but he remained motionless, taking the hit with infinite patience.
Hayjin, despite the pain in his ribs, couldn't help himself. Seeing the imposing Dragon God the one who could pulverize mountains take a right hook from a peaceful healer of Exilia without batting an eye was simply too much. He began to chuckle, a hoarse and painful laugh that made his chest heave.
"You find it funny, do you?" Elara turned toward him like a predator.
Before Hayjin could respond, he felt a sharp flick on his forehead not a real punch, but a very energetic punitive tap that made him groan. "And that's for you! For following this brainless muscle-head on a suicide mission! You're both idiots, that's what you are!"
She straightened up, smoothing her apron with a brusque gesture, her eyes still shooting sparks. But then, her gaze suddenly softened, returning to that of the woman who healed every wound with love. "Dinner is almost ready. Root stew and wild ox meat. And woe betide you both if you don't clean your plates."