I scoffed, turning away before he could see the flicker of warmth that his words stirred in me. "Don't thank me yet," I said, keeping my tone icy. "You're still barely worth the effort."
I started walking away, expecting him to collapse back onto the ground as soon as I was out of sight. But then he called after me.
"Phoenix."
I stopped, glancing over my shoulder. "What?"
His eyes met mine, filled with that same stupid, unyielding determination that seemed to define him. "I'll get better," he said, his voice steady despite his obvious fatigue. "You'll see."
For a moment, I said nothing, just stared at him. Then I gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod. "You'd better."
With that, I walked away, leaving him alone in the growing light of dawn. As I crossed the field, I felt a strange mix of emotions stirring within me. Annoyance, yes, but also something softer, something I wasn't ready to name.
