The image of Johnn's desperate, wide eyed devotion, the way he looked at her as if she were a celestial event flashed in her mind. It triggered a sudden, poignant memory: the early, fragile days of her marriage, back when her husband looked at her with that same unfiltered, protective adoration.
She remembered the gentleness in his touch, the way he would insist on carrying the heavy loads just to see her smile, and the feeling of absolute, uncomplicated safety in his presence.
A shadow passed over her expression.
"I just hope… he never changes."
She quickly shook the thought away, scowling as if she'd tasted something bitter.
She turned her gaze toward the tent wall, intending to check on him through the silhouette his form should have cast against the fabric. The fire outside was still burning, and the light should have been casting a clear, protective shadow of the Hero as he paced his rounds.
