Aimee bound towards Elann and Noah. The dirk in her hand was still clean, unused, and was tucked into her palm by the hilt as she jogged towards the couple. Her heart dropped because she couldn’t see Noah from the angle she was approaching. She could see Elann and didn’t see a clear amount of panick in her face that denoted Noah being injured, at least gravely. She came further still and it wasn’t until she saw Noah resting on the ledge of the wagon did she embrace the Benshira in an hold that told of her gratefulness that both of them were alive and relatively well. The same couldn’t be said about the other families, but theirs didn’t suffer any casualties but mentally. The wails made Aimee all the more gratified by Elann and Noah’s safety.

Aimee followed Elann to Noah’s side and peered at her brother concerningly. She placed her dirk on the floor of the wagon beside him and watched him nod, just holding his hand at his side. “I’m fine,” he said, parroting Elann’s concern. He brought his left hand to grasp at Elann, disregarding the discomfort of the burn to physically feel his bondmate’s safety. It wasn’t until the afterglow of the battle did he remember his mother’s story detailing the death of her own bondmate. He didn’t think he could bear to witness Elann’s death. Despite the doubts in mind, he still loved her dearly.

His hold of her was unwavering and solid. The wailing around him communicated that others were not as fortunate as him. His mind drifted to Alena and her family. They were the only others he cared about in the caravan, and if it weren’t for him having had been injured, he doubted he would’ve even cared for their lives either. What mattered to him were Elann and Aimee, and that was all.

Noah felt Elann tug from him and he hesitated to release her. In fact, he looked at her with a deep sense of confusion in his brows. When he looked at her he was all the more reluctant to give her up to the rest of the camp.