Auriel climbed the ridge before sunrise, her medic bag heavy against her hip. For three weeks she had guarded these paths and the wounded creature who walked them with her. This morning, she meant to close the distance for good. She passed the small elm-wood shelter she had claimed at the tree line. Its blue trim glowed faint in the dark. She did not stop for tea. She did not stop for anything. The predator lay beneath the willow arch where the glowing leaves trailed down like rain. Its left hind leg was twisted wrong. It watched her come and did not rise. It did not even try. Auriel knelt slow. She set down her satchel of salves and bound moss, the small lantern still warm from her fire. She reached out one hand. The animal let her touch its shoulder. The distance was gone.