Page 99 of Thexan

He considered that. “Partially.”

Tanner stepped closer, his gaze moving from the shaken worker to Thexan. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes,” Thexan said. “I did.”

The simplicity of it settled over everyone nearby.

The worker rubbed his arm where Thexan had caught him, then nodded once, awkwardly but sincerely. “Thanks.”

Thexan inclined his head, accepting the gratitude without knowing quite what to do with it. I felt that through the bond, not uncertainty exactly, but a pause in his internal framework, as if the reaction had not fit any combat model he knew.

I touched his arm lightly.

He looked down at me, and the pause eased.

By the time we returned to the infirmary later that afternoon, the settlement had not accepted him completely, but something important had changed. People were still cautious, still uncertain, but the fear had thinned enough for other things to exist around it.

Curiosity.

Gratitude.

Possibility.

Inside the infirmary, I set my bag down and turned toward him, tired in a way that felt almost normal after everything else we had survived.

“That went well,” I said.

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to admit it was stressful, are you?”

“It was manageable.”

“Of course it was.”

His gaze moved over my face, more carefully than before. “You are fatigued.”

“I’m always fatigued.”

“That is not acceptable.”

“It’s reality.”

“It should not remain reality.”

Something in the way he said it made me pause.

This wasn’t the practical concern he had shown before. Or maybe it was, but there was more beneath it now, something that had settled deeper after the day’s work, after seeing the way people depended on me and the way I allowed that dependence to shape the edges of my life.

“You’re about to tell me I take on too much,” I said.

“Yes.”

“I know.”

“You do not correct it.”

“I haven’t had anyone to hand things to.”