Page 53 of Alien Guardian's Vow

"Not just endure. Recover." She pressed a makeshift cup of water to my lips. "Drink."

I complied, too weak to argue. The water tasted of minerals and smoke from the purification process, but it soothed my throat.

"Let me see your wound again."

My instinct was to refuse, to insist I could tend to myself, but that would be foolish pride speaking. I nodded once and shifted to give her better access.

Rivera's touch was gentle as she peeled back the makeshift bandage. Her sharp intake of breath told me what I already suspected.

"The infection's spreading. The skin around the wound is hot and red." Her fingers probed delicately around the edges. "I need to clean it again, and I found some plants that might help draw out the infection."

"You recognize these plants?"

"My markings do." She gestured to the silver lines tracing her collarbone. "They... respond to certain plants. The same ones that helped before, plus something new. A kind of moss growing on the north side of the rocks."

I watched as she crushed the moss between two stones, mixing it with water to form a paste. Her movements were precise, confident. No wasted motion.

"This will hurt," she warned.

"Do what you must."

She cleaned the wound first, and despite my preparation, I couldn't suppress a hiss of pain. My lifelines flared in response, casting golden light that mingled with the silver glow of her markings.

"Sorry," she murmured, not looking up from her work.

"Your care is... unexpected." The admission cost me something, though I couldn't name what.

Her hands paused momentarily. "Why? Because I'm human?"

"Because we began as adversaries."

A small smile touched her lips as she applied the paste to my wound. "Circumstances change. People adapt."

"Some more readily than others." I watched her face as she worked, the concentration in her eyes, the slight furrow between her brows. "You adapt well, Rivera."

"Rivera," she corrected, still focused on her task. "I told you before. When it's just us, I'm Rivera."

The intimacy of using her given name still felt strange on my tongue, a privilege I hadn't earned. "Rivera," I repeated.

She secured a fresh bandage over the wound and sat back on her heels. "You need to rest, Varek. Properly. Let me help."

"I am resting."

"No, you're sitting up, alert, watching for threats. That's not rest."

She had a point, though I was reluctant to concede it. "Our situation does not allow for proper rest."

"Our situation demands it." She moved to sit beside me, shoulder to shoulder. "You're burning with fever. Your body needs to heal, and it can't do that if you're constantly vigilant."

The warmth of her against my side was oddly comforting. My tail, usually kept carefully controlled, curled slightly toward her of its own accord.

"Your strength... is considerable, Rivera. Your care... unexpected." The words felt inadequate to express what I meant, but they were all I had.

She turned to look at me, her eyes reflecting the firelight. "Is it really so surprising that I'd care for you?"

"Yes." The honesty of my answer surprised even me.

"Why?"

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