A loud banging shook the wooden door, echoing through the dimly lit room. The three inside tensed. Elric exchanged glances with Espada before cautiously stepping forward. His fingers hesitated on the handle before he slowly pulled the door open.
Bjorn stood there, his hulking form drenched in rain and streaked with blood—some his, but mostly from the bandits he had cut down. His heavy breaths fogged the cold air, his wild eyes scanning the room like a beast searching for its pack.
Elric opened his mouth, but words failed him. The silence between them was enough.
Bjorn stepped inside, his boots leaving behind muddy, bloodstained prints. He turned his head sharply, searching—looking. His gaze landed on Mariposa, who sat curled up against the bed, her small frame shaking as sobs racked her body. Espada stood by the window, his back slightly hunched, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Tears still streaked his face.
Bjorn then turned to Elric. Their eyes met.
