In the next instant, I stumbled into the familiar enclave, the clearing where the ships were docked, their sleek, metallic forms glinting under the pale silver of the moonlight. The faint hum of their engines provided a distant comfort, a reminder that safety was finally within reach. Behind me, the forest loomed, its shadows thick and heavy, as though it had grown sentient and was reluctant to release me from its grasp.

I hesitated at the threshold, my chest heaving as I glanced back one last time. The weight of the wilderness seemed to press against my back, urging me to return to its depths. But I turned away and stepped forward, my feet dragging slightly as exhaustion tugged at every fiber of my being.

Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to shift back. My body trembled as I transformed, the sharp crack of realigning bones echoing faintly in the quiet night. My claws receded, my quills flattened, and my frame shrank back to its human form. I let out a strained gasp, doubling over slightly as a sharp pain tore through my shoulder.

Gritting my teeth, I reached up to touch the wound—a jagged claw mark carved deep into my skin, still oozing blood. The edges of the gash burned, the raw sting spreading down my arm with each small movement.

The enclave was alive with subdued activity, and the medics, ever vigilant, were already on standby. As I crossed the threshold, my steps uneven, one of them spotted me immediately.

Kix's breath hitched audibly as his eyes landed on me, relief washing over his face like a tide. "We thought you were lost forever," he said, rushing toward me with quick, purposeful strides.

In his hand, he clutched a bottle of bacta, the liquid's faint shimmer catching the dim light of the ships. His other hand reached for my uninjured arm, steadying me as I swayed slightly on my feet.

I caught the flicker of concern in his eyes—genuine and unguarded, mixed with a gratitude that told me he understood how close I had come to never returning. For a moment, the air around us felt heavy with unspoken words, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the ships and the steady rhythm of my uneven breaths.

"You're lucky you made it back," Kix murmured, his voice soft but firm as he guided me toward the medbay. "Let's get you patched up before you fall apart completely."

The exhaustion that had been clawing at the edges of my mind finally began to take hold, and I let myself lean on him as we moved forward. The enclave's light swallowed me, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the hunt began to lift.

"Where are the others?" I asked, my voice barely rising above a whisper, each word feeling as though it had to fight its way through the thick fog of exhaustion and the smothering numbness that wrapped around me.

Kix paused, his expression serious, the weight of my question hanging in the air. "They're still back with the predator," he replied, his tone measured, though a flicker of concern crossed his face. "I have no doubt they're holding their own."

As he stepped back, he pressed the nozzle of the bacta spray against my wound. The cool liquid seeped into my torn skin, spreading like icy tendrils through my shoulder and chest. The numbing relief washed over me, dulling the sharp edges of the pain, but it did little to quiet the growing pit of anxiety forming in my stomach.

Kix seemed to sense it. "Don't worry," he said, his voice calm, steady, and practiced. He straightened, pulling off his gloves with a soft snap and meeting my gaze. "Anakin is a Jedi. Rex and Fives have been through worse and come out of it just fine. They know how to handle themselves."

Despite his reassurance, my heart still felt heavy, weighed down by a helplessness I couldn't shake. But there was something in his tone, a quiet confidence, that made me hold on to a sliver of hope.

"You need to rest," he added, his voice softening as he placed a hand on my good shoulder. "If they need you, you'll want to be strong enough to fight. But for now, let them do their part."

With that, he guided me toward a stretcher, his hands firm yet gentle, radiating a quiet patience. "Lay down," he said, his tone soft but insistent.

I hesitated, my body resisting the idea of rest while my mind screamed at me to move, to act, to help. But the exhaustion clung to me like a weight I couldn't shake, and I finally allowed myself to sink down onto the stretcher.

Kix's eyes met mine once more, his steady gaze filled with understanding. "You're not alone in this fight," he said, his voice low but resolute. "We're all in this together."

His words settled over me like a thin veil of comfort, and as I rested my head against the stretcher, the hum of the ship and the faint warmth of the bacta working through my body began to pull me toward a restless sleep.

SCENEBNREAK

When I woke again, the gentle, almost melodic hum of the ship's engines thrummed beneath me, a soft, constant pulse that seemed to reverberate through my very bones. It was like the ship itself was breathing, its deep vibrations lulling me into a haze of drowsiness that clung to me like a blanket. For a moment, the world around me felt unreal, distorted by the fog of sleep and the harshness of recent memories. I blinked, trying to force clarity into my mind, but only the rush of adrenaline surged through my veins, a shock of sharp awareness that tangled with the remnants of confusion.

I moved to sit up, but a hand—a warm, steady presence—pressed gently against my chest, keeping me grounded, as if the very motion would send me tumbling back into the storm of chaos we had barely escaped. The touch was firm but gentle, the kind of reassurance you get when you're clinging to the edge of a precipice and someone anchors you to solid ground.

"Don't," Anakin's voice broke through the swirling haze, light yet threaded with authority. It was familiar, comforting, a lifeline in the disorienting space of my mind. "You're just going to make Kix mad."

I blinked up at him, trying to focus, my eyes drifting over his face. His piercing blue eyes met mine, a mixture of exhaustion and something softer, something warmer that seemed to glow despite the tension that still lingered between us. His lips twitched upward into a smile, small but genuine, the kind that was more a balm than a gesture. A tired, imperfect smile, but one that offered peace in the midst of the storm.

I took a shallow breath, the taste of metal still lingering on my tongue. "Did you get him?" My voice was rough, a rasp that cracked on the edge of the words.

Anakin's smile faltered, replaced by a slow, deliberate shake of his head. His eyes dropped for a moment, and when they returned to mine, there was a heaviness to them, a quiet weight that pulled at his features. "We've got him tied down, yes, but not dead."

The words hung in the air like the ghost of an unanswered question. Not dead. The battle was far from over. The stakes, still hanging in the balance, felt impossibly high. I closed my eyes, the pull of exhaustion crashing over me like a tide I could no longer fight. My body was begging for rest, but my mind was still buzzing with the aftershocks of the fight, with the implications of what came next.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely a breath, carried away by the stillness between us. It felt like the weight of the world hung on those two words, crushing me under their quiet force.

Anakin's brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion passing across his face as he processed the weight of my apology. "For what?"

I inhaled slowly, the air thick and heavy as if it too carried the weight of unspoken things. The truth sat heavily on my chest, a lump that I couldn't swallow down. "For being the cause of those foul creatures coming after us."

The silence between us stretched, long and pregnant with the weight of what I had said. The admission, raw and heavy, settled in the space around us. I wasn't sure what I expected, but I didn't expect the way his gaze softened, as if my confession had unlocked something inside him—a deeper understanding, maybe even a shared burden. His gaze, so intense and full of unspoken things, held me in place. There was no judgment there, just an unspoken promise that we'd face it all together.

And in that moment, with the hum of the engines still vibrating through the ship and the weight of everything we had yet to confront pressing against me, I found some solace in his eyes. His steady presence, his unflinching resolve, became the anchor that held me to something solid in a universe that had been nothing but chaos.

Anakin shook his head gently, his brow furrowing with the kind of certainty that made my heart twist. "It's not your fault, Nyx. Don't even think that." His voice was firm but soft, carrying a warmth that wrapped around me like a protective cloak.

Then, without a word, he leaned in slightly, his movements slow but deliberate. His hand, calloused from years of battle, brushed lightly along my chin, tilting my head upward, forcing me to meet his gaze. The intensity in his blue eyes was unmistakable, a mixture of care and unspoken understanding, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

"Please," he whispered, the word heavy with an earnestness that echoed in my chest.

Before I could respond, before the weight of his words could fully settle, his lips gently pressed to the tip of my nose. It was a soft, simple gesture—one that spoke volumes. His kiss was light, affectionate, the kind that held more meaning than any battle we'd faced or any words could express. It was a reminder that, even in the midst of everything, we still had each other.

A small, incredulous laugh slipped from me, despite the heaviness in my heart. It was the kind of laughter that felt both sad and hopeful, a fragile bridge between the chaos of our lives and the tender moments that we could still hold on to.

For just a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by the quiet comfort of his presence. The world outside was still raging, but in that small, intimate space between us, there was peace.