Birds circle overhead as Cogan and I trek through the thick overgrowth of dry, hay-like grass coating the plains. I squint and place my hand to my forehead in attempt to shade my eyes and look up at the murder of crows that seem to have taken some amusement in observing our struggle. The sun is sweltering, blazing down on us through disgustingly dry heat, and there is no relief from the elements - not even a slight breeze. We've been at this for days on our quest to the Woodlands, and while we've passed through many territories possessing a variety of climates, this is the most brutal thus far.

"Keep your eyes ahead, Lara." Cogan barks, his tone firm. "I've never ventured this far into the plains, and neither of us know what the hell could be lurking in here."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at his constant need to insert himself into an authoritative role and tear my gaze from our audience in the sky to watch him press on through the thigh-high grass in front of me. "Are you truly so intimidated by the presence of a few prairie dogs?"

His irritation is practically palpable as he snaps, "Eyes ahead and mouth shut. The last thing I need is your incessant wisecracks being the reason we draw unwanted attention to ourselves."

What a dick.

For awhile, the only sounds to be heard are the crunch of dead grass crumpling under our boots and the occasional buzz of passing mayflies. He reaches down to unclip a canteen from the strap of his pack before pressing it to his lips, and I take notice of the way the muscles in his back ripple underneath his sweat dampened t-shirt.

Cogan may irk me to high hell, but damn does he look like the gods have sculpted him with careful precision. All of the hours he'd spent in combat training had certainly paid off, both in skill and his well defined build. Not to mention his chiseled jawline, though it's currently hidden by scruff that had grown over the time of our journey. His shoulder-length, dark curls emphasize the slight amber hue in his rich, hazelnut eyes. There are times I forget why I had ever rejected his marriage proposal all of those years ago. That is, until he opens his mouth and sets me off again. This cycle tends to repeat itself quite often.

He lets out a satisfactory sigh before turning around to face me and outstretching his hand, offering me a drink. I snatch the canteen and gulp down the contents almost greedily, welcoming the small relief hydration brings from the heat.

His arms cross over his chest as he sighs again, this time seemingly less satisfactory. "Slow down, will you? We still have at least a day before we reach the Woodland boarder, and your map indicates no fresh water sources along the way."

I force myself to rip the canteen from my lips, begrudgingly handing it back to him. "Perhaps you should have been more prepared. You've essentially brought along an entire armory. Surely your knowledge of survival makes you aware that we cannot eat nor drink blades and bows."

"That's incredibly rich, coming from the one who's packed absolutely nothing useful other than the map and some flint." he retorts.

I scoff in disbelief. "I had all but a two minute notice of this trip. You're lucky I thought to bring anything, let alone-"

Words immediately die in my throat as a deep, rumbling growl resounds throughout wide open plain. My body goes rigid as his eyes widen, and for the first time since meeting him, I see genuine fear flicker across his expression. He turns ever so slowly back to determine the source, instinctively reaching for the sword he keeps sheathed at his hip. His right hand rests around the hilt while his left trails to hover over the daggers he keeps concealed at his ribs. Carefully, almost silently he steps backward until his back is only inches from my chest, and I can feel the additional heat radiating from his body as he takes a defensive position.

I scan the scene before me, but see nothing other than the sea of sun bleached grass. My heart pounds in my ears as we stand still as statues.

Suddenly, I'm struck so hard in the side of my head that I'm sent barreling to the ground, landing on my back. My vision goes blurry as the impact pushes all of the air from my lungs, and I gasp. The ringing in my ears tunes out all else as I scramble to get back on my feet. I feel a warm, sticky liquid dribble down from my temple to my cheek, and the tangy scent of copper fills my nostrils.

By the time I gather my bearings and rise again, I'm face to face with the most horrifying beast I've ever seen. Only a few feet away from me is a monstrous bear-like animal, propped up on its hind legs. It must stand at least eight feet tall, and I have to crane my neck to glance up at its face. It possesses both the body and facial features of a bear, but as it pulls back its lip in a snarl I see rows of razor sharp teeth, more akin to a shark, set between fangs proceeding the length of my fingers. The beast's paws are larger than my head, equipped with claws longer than any dagger I've ever held. Lanceolate horns splay from the side of its head, its tawny fur bloodstained from what must've been an earlier kill. A resonant, thunderous roar rips from its throat, chilling my bones to the marrow. My entire body is frozen, paralyzed in fear as all of my joints lock like a door hinge in desperate need of oil.

A dagger flies out from behind me, missing the top of my head by barely an inch. It sticks the beast in the abdomen, causing it to stumble back a few paces before dropping to all fours. Cogan is between me and the creature in an instant, sword drawn and his demeanor portraying a calculated focus I've never seen from him before. He speaks without even sparing me a glance, his tone unwavering.

"Head in the direction we were walking. When you see an oak tree, stop and set up camp. Do not look back, and do not walk. Run."

I swallow thickly as my mind races. I can't just leave Cogan behind, he's all that I have. Before I can refute, his voice rings out again.

"NOW, Lara." His assertive command leaves no room for argument, not as if I'd even have time to make one as the beast seems to only have been further enraged by the dagger still lodged in its gut.

The creature lets out another roar, more guttural than the last before it charges toward Cogan, teeth bared. Before I even realize what's happening, adrenaline takes over and my legs seemingly move on their own. I am sprinting past them, long lifeless blades of grass whipping at my thighs with every step. I run until the beast's roars and Cogan's grunts and shouts fade out of range, but I do not stop. I do not look back. A burning sensation invades my lungs as my shirt begins to cling to my sweat sheened torso.

After what feels like forever, an oak tree finally comes into view, like an island amidst a vast ocean. I use all of my remaining energy to keep my pace until I reach it. I place my hand on the rough, scaly bark lining the trunk as I double over, heaving and panting as I wait for my breaths to even out. My body begs for rest, the muscles in my legs aching while I stand straight again and move to unload the camp supplies from my pack. It's not much, just two bedrolls and a raggedy tent, but it's certainly better than nothing.

Cogan had demonstrated how to set up the tent nearly thirty times, but I must have not paid nearly enough attention. My first attempt had the entire thing collapsing in on itself the moment I stepped away, and the second resulted in more of a tangled mess than any form of reliable shelter. I accept defeat, too drained to take even one more step. I silently thank whatever higher power reigns over us for the shade of the tree and its considerable aid against the heat as I plop down onto one of the sleep sacks, not bothering to climb inside.

I stare up at the foliage, feeling my chest grow heavier with each passing moment as I think about Cogan and the formidable creature he's currently facing. He knows how to handle himself, I'm sure of it. I've seen him take down men a head taller than him, men who have decades more experience in battle... but this monster is unlike anything either of us had ever crossed. My stomach churns. I shouldn't have left him behind, no matter what he'd demanded of me. Guilt and worry gnaw at my insides until my mind finally expends its last ounce of energy, shutting off in what feels like mid-thought as my eyelids grow unbearably heavy.

I'm startled awake by a distinct rustling sound, as if something is prowling through the grass. The sun had begun to set during my slumber, painting the sky a deep shade of marigold with hints of violet and scarlet. The absence of the blaring sun brings even more solace from the simmering heat. My heart thrums as the rustling sound draws nearer, my palms becoming clammy as I reach for the dagger at my thigh. I sit up and begin to glance around, hoping to see anything but the bear-like beast.

"What's that you said earlier about me being unprepared?" Cogan's voice bellows from a couple of yards away, and I can nearly hear the smug smirk accompanying his remark.

The sound is sweet, beautiful music to my ears. My head immediately snaps to look in his direction, a slow smile curling my lips as I let out a shaky laugh. My throat tightens past the point of being able to speak, but my eyes rake over his body scanning for any injuries. His bicep is wrapped in blood soaked bandage, courtesy of the med kit he lugs everywhere. Other than that, I only take notice of a few scrapes and dark, almost indigo bruises.

He strides toward me until he's only a few feet away, looking down at me. His smirk falls, replaced by a subtle frown, his brow furrowing. He brings himself down to kneel in front of me, scanning my face in the same manner I just did his. "Gods," he murmurs as his hand reaches out to cup the side of my head, fingers resting in my hair. The touch is so light I barely feel it until his thumb runs over my temple, and a dull sting causes me to wince.

All of a sudden, I'm hyperaware of the dried blood and sweat caking my face. I was so focused on running, then flooded by concern and exhaustion - I had completely forgotten the monster had landed a swipe to my head.

He lets out a long breath before shrugging off his pack, digging through it before pulling out the med kit. I hear liquid swishing as he pulls out the canteen, pours some water onto a rag and begins to tenderly wipe the crusted grime from my face.

I examine his expression - the way his eyes have softened, how his lips purse in concentration. There's so much that I want to say, though communication that strays from witty banter and small talk has never been my strong suit. Eventually, I muster up the words, "I was.... Afraid. For you."

A small smile pulls at the corners of his lips, his voice a soft whisper. "I know." He finishes cleaning me up, tossing the soiled rag aside before shooting a pointed glance at the pile of fabric and poles from my failed attempts at putting the tent up. "I'm beginning to think I should be afraid for YOU."

I lightly chuckle, watching as he gives yet another demonstration whilst building our shelter for the night. I still don't pay much attention, too busy in relishing in the fact that he's actually here, and we've survived yet another day.

Tonight, as we lay on our bedrolls and savor the cool night air against our skin, I scoot closer to him, letting my body curl up against his. He moves his arm to wrap around my waist and pulls me in tighter. Neither of us speak, and the comfortable silence is more than welcomed. Tomorrow, we would reach the Woodlands. I have no idea what waits for us there, but whatever it may be, I'm grateful to be walking into it with Cogan.