Hours passed. The lantern burned low. And then, sometime after midnight, Ayoka jerked upright with a sharp gasp, breath shaking, hands trembling violently. The nightmare left her disoriented. Shadows looked like figures.
The sound of the horse shifting in its stall sounded like pursuit. She pressed a hand against her chest, struggling to steady her breathing. Elias was at the door to the tack room before she could call out. His boot stopped just short of crossing the threshold. "You all right?" he asked, voice low, steady.
Ayoka tried to answer, but her throat tightened. She shut her eyes, forcing herself to breathe, but it only made the panic worse. Her hand shook hard enough that the blanket slipped from her shoulders. Elias stepped inside, slow and careful, making sure she saw every movement. "I'm not going to touch you unless you say so."
She swallowed, eyes darting to him. Her voice came out small, broken. "Stay." He didn't hesitate. He lowered himself to the ground beside the blanket, sitting close enough for her to feel someone near, far enough that she could move away if she needed.
He didn't reach for her, didn't put his arm around her. He simply sat, letting his steady presence fill the space. Ayoka leaned toward him on her own, inch by inch, until her shoulder brushed his. She clung to his sleeve, her breath gradually slowing. She didn't explain the nightmare, and Elias didn't ask.
The explanation would come later, when she could speak without shaking. When she finally fell asleep again, her head rested against his arm. Elias stayed awake, staring at the fire, thinking about the last time someone had leaned on him for comfort. It had been years, too many to count. By the second night, the pattern had become clear.
Ayoka fell asleep quickly. Exhaustion did that. But she woke in a panic several times, each time calling his name softly, barely above a whisper. She didn't ask for anything else, just his presence. She needed to know someone else was awake, watching the dark for her, making sure no one dragged her back into the desert.
He recognized trauma when he saw it. He knew how losing home, family, and safety could tear a person apart inside. And he saw that Ayoka wasn't clinging out of desire. She was clinging because she had lost every part of her world at once. Each time she woke, Elias moved to her side.
Sometimes she gripped his wrist. Sometimes she held onto the edge of his coat. Sometimes she didn't touch him at all, just watched him, trembling, until the panic passed. Elias began to feel the weight of it. His eyes grew rimmed with fatigue.
His movements were slower during the day. His horse noticed it first. Elias's usual firm, steady grooming became sluggish. He found himself staring at the fence line for long stretches, trying to chase away the tired fog in his mind. Ayoka saw it, too.