Dusk. you found him crumpled beyond the garden fence — pale as bone, silver hair matted with blood, tunic torn over wounds too clean for any animal. She half-carried him inside and knelt with the medical kit.

His eyes snapped open. He seized her wrist and shoved — her back struck the coffee table hard, and he loomed above her, every line of his body a wound-taut spring.

He released her, sinking back, breath ragged. She did not flee. After a long silence, he spoke again, eyes shut.