Wyatt Yardley listened, his lips curling into a slight smile as he lowered his head and continued washing the fruit in his hands.
Soon, he returned with a cluster of fruit he had just rinsed with fresh water.
"Want some juice?"
Seraphina Caldwell’s eyes instantly brightened.
"You know how to make juice? I thought you needed a mortar or a pestle to squeeze it out."
"I do."
"If you want to drink it, I’ll press it. It’s simple."
After saying that, he turned around and found two rocks near the campsite.
He washed the rocks clean with fresh water.
Then he carefully placed a few Honey Fruit between the stones, arranging a clean clay pot below to catch the juice.
With a slight crack, the juice slowly seeped out from between the rocks.
"Wyatt, you’re amazing!"
Seraphina couldn’t help but blurt out.
She stared straight at the clay pot as the juice continued to drip.
Seeing her so happy, Wyatt felt a warmth in his heart.
"From now on, I’ll turn all the fruit into juice for you. As long as you say the word, I can make it anytime."
He didn’t fully believe her sudden tenderness and closeness.
After all, the past had taught him to be wary.
But...
He was willing to give it a try.
Willing to gradually let down his guard and try to accept her current kindness.
Deep inside, he truly hoped she had changed for real.
Yet, his rational mind continued to remind him.
Was this sudden gentleness just a disguise?
The juice from the Honey Fruit was handed to her.
Seraphina took small sips, her eyes squinting as her lips naturally curved upward.
Despite his words, Seraphina shook her head.
"Don’t bother, really. Eating it directly tastes the same."
These males weren’t her choice.
She wouldn’t feel superior just because someone treated her better.
In the end, it was just a temporary alliance for survival.
Once the Spiritual Contract was dissolved, they’d go their separate ways, owing nothing to each other.
Whether feelings or debts, none should be involved.
Before finding her father, she only wanted to maintain a superficial peace.
Wyatt’s eyes darkened.
She always appeared distant; was he not doing enough?
Since the day she healed, he’d proactively taken on the toughest pathfinding tasks, and stood extra shifts at night guard.
She loved fruit, so he remembered which tree bore the sweetest ones.
He always believed in that old saying: Only those who dare to reach out get the best fruit.
Those who hesitate can’t even see what the fruits look like.
He wasn’t without resentment.
She used to beat him up brutally, leaving him with bruises for days.
But females were rare.
In the entire tribe, females who could bear offspring were less than one-tenth.
They were pampered by their elders from a young age.
Even with a hot temper, there’d always be someone who’d endure them repeatedly.
Even if they dissolved the Spiritual Contract and went their separate ways in the future, he wasn’t sure he would meet another who suited him.
The current situation was just right.
He wanted to bet once.
Bet that she wouldn’t revert to being the madwoman who lashed out at anyone who got close.
"No trouble at all, what’s squeezing some juice? I’ll press juice for you every day."
After finishing, he picked a few ripe red fruits and skillfully pressed a jar of clear juice.
Seraphina was stunned, not expecting him to be this thoughtful.
"Thank you... but I really can’t drink anymore."
"Then I’ll hold it for you, drink when you’re thirsty."
He casually grabbed the clay pot, holding it tightly in his hand.
The other males nearby all frowned.
What’s gotten into Wyatt’s head? How did she trick him?
How did he fall deeper and deeper, losing even basic judgment?
She used to knock people out with a punch, and everyone avoided her.
Now, there he was, willingly following her with a juice in hand.
After a rest, the group set off again.
At Wyatt’s fingertips, he lightly brushed her lips.
"There’s juice on you."
Just as Seraphina was about to look, he turned his face away, lowered his head, and quickly caught up with the group ahead.
She paused for a moment.
The sun was still scorching, bleaching the leaves.
She held a wide leaf above her head for shade.
Wyatt’s embrace was cool to the touch.
As he walked, his shoulder moved with a strange rhythm, reminiscent of being rocked in a cradle as a child.
Drowsiness surged over her, her eyelids growing heavier.
In no time, her head gently tilted against his shoulder as she fell asleep.
Noticing her breathing slow, he fully relaxed his body, adjusting his position to make her more comfortable.
Unbeknownst to them, time passed in deathly silence.
Suddenly, a sharp, ear-piercing roar exploded.
Seraphina awoke with a jolt.
She was still curled in Wyatt’s embrace, her cheek against his cold, hard armor.
Not far off, Evan Orwell, Gideon Larkin, Kaelan Hawthorne, and Isaac Vaughn were besieging a huge beast.
Her pupils contracted suddenly.
It was a gigantic creature, reminiscent of an enormous lizard from ancient times.
A strange cyan marking coiled around its ankle, the unique sign of a Green Rank Dire Beast.
Its body was covered in hard scales, most alarming was its massive, robust tail.
Just by eye, one could tell this monster’s defense was absurdly strong.
"Wyatt! Go help them!"
Seraphina pushed hard on his shoulder.
Her eyes were fixed on the battlefield.
"You’re a Green Rank warrior. Only with your intervention can the situation be turned! They’ll die if this goes on!"
She quickly pointed to a few steps away, at an old tree with a thick trunk and dense foliage.
"I’ll hide there, absolutely safe! It’s a clear view and can conceal my position, go save them! Don’t hesitate!"
She saw clearly that Evan and the others were working well together.
But the beast’s skin was thick, their strikes landing on scales, unable to deal substantial damage.
Yet Wyatt held her tightly.
"No. I can’t leave you alone. It’s too dangerous."
"If it suddenly charges and lunges this way, you wouldn’t even have time to react. Let alone run, you’d never get a chance to scream for help."
Just as he finished saying that...
"Boom—"
They saw the beast suddenly swing its long tail, the barbed end smashing into Kaelan’s back.
Kaelan couldn’t evade in time, being flung away, landing by a rock.
Lying on the ground, the taste of blood filled his throat, and it gushed from his lips.
"Kaelan!"
She gripped the fabric of Wyatt’s chest tightly.
"Give me a stick! Anything will do! At least I can hold it off! Holding it for a few seconds might help!"
"If you don’t go... they will really die here! All of them will die!"
The scene was so shocking.
Kaelan was out of the fight, lying in uncertainty of life or death, Evan’s temple was bleeding, his hands barely maintaining the flickering glow of a mental shield.
Though Gideon maintained a lion’s form, roaring continuously, his left shoulder had a bone-deep wound from a spike.
The whole battlefield was precarious.
Wyatt said no more, scooped her up, and with a few leaps, dashed behind the large tree.
As they landed, he quickly bent to pick up a dry branch, drawing the dagger from his belt.