Astrid was desperate, at the time.
Before, Mika would go for a couple of hours—maybe even around a day, in the worst cases.
But that was the absolute maximum.
He always came back. Always.
And when he did, she would feel that overwhelming rush of relief, that warmth of knowing he was still alive, still fighting, still there.
But now?
Two days had passed.
Two full days.
And Mika had not come back.
Not with food.
Not with medicine.
Not with anything.
Just...nothing.
Astrid paced the cave endlessly, her broken legs now healed enough to allow her to limp around.
She circled the small space like a caged animal, her mind spinning with worst-case scenarios.
Every tiny sound—a pebble shifting, water dripping, wind rustling made her heart leap with hope.
'He's back. He's finally back.'
But every time, it was nothing.
Just the cave.
Just the darkness.
Just her.
"Mika..." She whispered into the void. "Please. Please come back. I can't do this alone. I can't."
No answer.
