A Respite

The grass whispered beneath Inigo's boots as he crouched low, his M4 Carbine cradled tight against his shoulder. The treeline up ahead opened into a small meadow bathed in the last golden streaks of sun. Just beyond the tall grass, a boar rooted lazily at the earth. Big. Muscled. Oblivious.

Inigo signaled to Lyra with two fingers. She caught the movement and paused behind a tree, giving him the space to take the shot. This one was his. After everything—they both knew he needed this. Not for the food. But for the quiet. The normalcy. The grounding.

He exhaled slowly, let the tension bleed from his arms. The rifle was familiar weight, a piece of his old world strapped to his present. He didn't even need the optic. Just muscle memory.

The boar twitched, ears flicking. But the suppressed shot cracked like a whisper, and the creature dropped without a sound.

Inigo lowered the rifle. "Clean."