Yara absorbed Basilisk's words, feeling a pang of empathy for the losses he had endured. She admired his strength and resolve, knowing how difficult it must have been to rise above such a harsh upbringing. As they walked, she felt a protective aura around him, a comforting presence that made the oppressive darkness of the blighted woods less daunting.
"Your strength is remarkable, Warlord," she said softly, her voice filled with respect. "It's not easy to carry on after losing so much, but you've built something strong with the Armada. It's an honor to be a part of it."
As they arrived back at the den, Yara nodded at his suggestion. "Yes, let's hope for a more peaceful night," she agreed, her voice calm and steady. She entered the den, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief.
Settling down on the pelt bedding he had brought for her, she allowed herself a moment to reflect on the night's events. Despite the fear and confusion, there was a growing sense of trust between her and Basilisk. She hoped that, in time, they could both find some solace.
