The small tent they had set up offered just enough space for the two of them. Mikhailis ducked slightly as he entered, followed closely by Cerys. The confined space left no room for comfort; they were shoulder-to-shoulder, and the warmth from their bodies filled the tiny enclosure. Cerys settled down, her movements stiff, her face slightly flushed as she tried to adjust. She looked so out of place—the Lone Wolf, someone more accustomed to the open fields, now forced to share a tiny space with a man whose very presence seemed to challenge her every boundary.
Mikhailis sat down opposite her, the tips of their knees almost touching. He glanced at her and saw how visibly tense she was, her eyes darting around the cramped tent, as if looking for a way to create more space where there was none.
