HERS TO PROTECT

Chapter 7

Wounds Unhealed

As dawn broke, the thick forest brightened, and Ethan and Lia pressed on, tense and alert after the recent attack. Although the heavy greenery concealed their movements, the stress was evident in their hurried steps.

"Ethan, wait," Lia whispered, her voice tight as she stumbled slightly, clutching her side where a jagged cut bled through her shirt.

He turned immediately, concern flooding his features. "You need to rest. Let's stop here." He gently guided her to a nearby clearing—a temporary refuge amid the wilderness.

As he examined her injury, a pang of guilt struck him. Why does this always happen? Why do those around me always suffer harm? He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and carefully wrapped it around her wound, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the turmoil within. I can't lose another one.

"Thank you," Lia murmured, a faint smile struggling through her pain. "Just give me a moment. I'm sorry." Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body weary from the night's struggle and the wild chase. "But we need to keep moving. This place isn't safe."

Ethan shook his head, his voice firm yet kind. "You need to rest. Don't worry too much."

He met her gaze briefly, searching for assurance before scanning their surroundings. Besides their mild breathing and the rustling leaves stirred by the light wind, the woodland was strangely calm.

"You're pretty good at this," Lia said, breaking the silence. "You must be some sort of medic."

Ethan smirked, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Would you be disappointed if I said no?"

"Disappointed? No," Lia replied, smiling. "But you know first aid."

Ethan nodded, his voice quiet and tinged with a hint of bitterness. "I had to learn." It was never a choice; it was a necessity. When everyone depends on you, there's no room for failure. Weakness is not allowed.

Lia furrowed her brows, sensing a deeper story behind his stoic demeanor. "What do you mean?"

At that moment, Lia couldn't grasp her feelings. Watching Ethan, she felt a tug of curiosity urging her to know him better. But why? Perhaps it was because he reminded her so much of Lucas.

Ethan hesitated, pausing his hands briefly before adjusting the bandage. "It's nothing. Just... memories."

Lia's eyes softened with understanding. "Memories that hurt?"

He nodded again, his expression distant. "You could say that."

The conversation lingered like a delicate thread, connecting their shared vulnerability in that moment of respite amidst the wilderness.

"Thank you," Lia said softly, her voice breaking through the heaviness.

Ethan looked at her again, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. "You're welcome."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the strain diminishing as the sun rose higher, casting dappled light through the canopy above.

As Lia rested against a tree trunk, her breathing gradually steadied, Ethan sat opposite her, lost in thought. The air around them hummed with cicadas and the occasional rustle of leaves—a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

Lia observed him closely, sensing his inner conflict despite his composed exterior. "Ethan," she began tentatively, breaking their silence. "You mentioned memories... about your past."

He looked up, meeting her concerned gaze. His eyes flickered with pain, guilt, and a hint of resignation. "Yeah," he murmured, barely above a whisper. "It's not something I talk about."