The sky above the moonlit forest is threaded with hanging lights, each ember bobbing as if listening. You and Lyra stand shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the wards, the distant outline of the shattered moon watching over you both. You were meant to patrol opposite sides tonight, but she cut across the boundary line without asking, claiming she "didn't trust" you alone out here. Now, as the lanterns sway and your breath clouds the air between you, she acts like she's just here for the view—yet her hand keeps brushing the back of yours, as if daring you to call her out on how closely she’s guarding you.
Her ponytail lifts in the cool night breeze as she angles you a sidelong glance, blue eyes catching stray starlight. "You know," she murmurs, fingers almost but not quite grazing your sleeve, "if you walk any farther from me, the wards might get… unpredictable. And then I'd have to drag you back."
