Cold.
That was the first thing Arin felt.
Cold that seeped into his bones.
Cold that made his body tremble without control.
Cold that refused to leave.
His eyelids fluttered slowly.
Heavy.
Weak.
Reluctant.
Gray light filled his vision.
Soft.
Blurry.
Unfamiliar.
For a moment—
He did not remember where he was.
Then—
The memory returned.
The fall.
The river.
The rushing water.
The endless spinning.
Fear tightened in his chest.
His eyes snapped open.
He lay on damp ground beside the riverbank.
Mud clung to his clothes.
Water soaked through his skin.
The air smelled of wet earth and moss.
The river flowed nearby.
Slow now.
Calm.
As if nothing had happened.
But his body knew the truth.
Every muscle ached.
Every breath hurt.
Every movement felt heavy.
He tried to sit up.
Pain shot through his arms instantly.
Sharp.
Blinding.
A small gasp escaped his lips.
"Don't move," a voice said.
Familiar.
Steady.
Protective.
The knight.
Arin turned his head slowly.
The knight sat beside a small fire.
Flames crackled softly against the cold morning air.
Thin smoke drifted upward into the pale sky.
His clothes were still wet.
His armor scratched and dented.
A deep bruise darkened the side of his face.
But his eyes remained sharp.
Alert.
Alive.
Relief washed over Arin instantly.
Warm.
Powerful.
Real.
"You made a fire," he whispered.
The knight nodded once.
"You were freezing," he replied.
Arin looked down at himself.
A rough blanket covered his body.
Warm.
Protective.
Carefully placed.
"You saved me again," he said quietly.
The knight did not answer immediately.
Instead—
He stared into the flames.
Silent.
Thoughtful.
Then he spoke.
"That is my duty."
The words sounded simple.
But carried weight.
Responsibility.
Commitment.
Arin swallowed slowly.
He remembered the jump.
The moment the knight had turned in midair.
Shielding him from the rocks.
Taking the risk.
Taking the danger.
Protecting him.
Always protecting him.
A sudden cough escaped his chest.
Dry.
Painful.
The knight stood instantly.
Alert.
Concerned.
He stepped forward and placed a steady hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Easy," he said.
Arin nodded weakly.
The knight handed him a small wooden cup.
Steam rose gently from its surface.
Warm.
Comforting.
"Drink," he instructed.
Arin lifted the cup with trembling hands.
The warmth seeped into his fingers.
Slowly.
Steadily.
He took a careful sip.
The liquid tasted bitter.
But soothing.
Warmth spread through his chest.
Chasing away the cold.
Restoring strength.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Herb broth," the knight replied.
A brief pause.
"It will help you recover."
Arin nodded again.
Trusting.
Silence settled between them.
Peaceful.
Temporary.
The sun rose higher.
Light spilled across the river.
Golden.
Gentle.
Deceptively calm.
Birds began to chirp in the distance.
Life continuing.
Unaware.
But the knight's expression remained serious.
Because survival did not mean safety.
Arin noticed immediately.
"Are they still chasing us?" he asked.
The knight scanned the tree line carefully.
Listening.
Watching.
Calculating.
"Maybe," he answered.
The uncertainty felt heavier than fear.
Arin looked toward the forest.
Tall trees stood quietly.
Still.
Silent.
But danger could hide anywhere.
He tightened his grip on the blanket.
"I was scared," he admitted.
The words came out softly.
Honest.
Unfiltered.
The knight looked at him.
Not surprised.
Not disappointed.
Understanding.
"Fear is normal," he said.
A brief pause.
"It keeps you alive."
Arin considered the words carefully.
Then he asked:
"Were you scared?"
The knight remained silent for a moment.
Then—
He nodded once.
"Yes."
The answer surprised him.
Strong people felt fear too.
Even warriors.
Even protectors.
That realization changed something inside him.
Fear was not weakness.
Giving up was.
The knight walked toward the river slowly.
He knelt beside the water.
Washing blood from his hands.
Cleaning dirt from his wounds.
His movements were controlled.
Precise.
Disciplined.
Even injured—
He remained prepared.
Arin watched carefully.
Learning without being told.
After a moment—
The knight stood again.
His gaze lifted toward the horizon.
Clouds gathered slowly in the distance.
Dark.
Heavy.
Threatening.
A storm was coming.
He turned back to the boy.
"We move soon," he said.
Arin nodded.
Determined.
Despite the pain.
Despite the exhaustion.
Despite the fear.
Because stopping was no longer an option.
The knight stepped closer.
His voice firm.
Steady.
Unyielding.
"Remember this," he said.
Arin listened carefully.
"Survival is not about strength."
A brief pause.
"It is about endurance."
The words settled deep inside his mind.
Like a rule.
Like a truth.
Like a promise.
Far away—
High above the forest—
A lone rider watched the river valley through a narrow spyglass.
His expression cold.
Focused.
Certain.
He lowered the glass slowly.
Then spoke a single sentence.
"Target located."