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Mid-morning brings a clear sky and chirping birds, nothing like the chaos of dawn, when Natalie had stumbled out of the animal pen gripping a knife, dazed and bloody. Dawn had brought death and declarations of murder, of unfitness for leadership. Dawn had brought a punishment.
"Stay still," Travis says, soft, wringing out a wet rag. Nat obeys, a strange reversal of roles, as he brings the rag to her cheek, wiping off Ben's blood gently.
He knows what they're going to make her do. Natalie and Shauna are about to trade burdens, the roles of the butcher and the leader trading hands like a deck of cards. Maybe it's pointless, wiping this blood off, when Nat's bound to get covered in even more gore when she chops Coach to pieces. He finds that he doesn't care.
It's why he's followed her into her hut, even if she hasn't acknowledged him. It's why he kept watch for that solitary hour, waiting for her to finish what she started. It's why he says her name now, gentle, trying to get her to come back to herself.
"You don't have to pretend to be loyal, Travis," Nat says, staring off into the corner. There's no bite to it, no hint of emotion. Its unnerving. "I'm not the leader anymore."
"Pretending?" Travis says. Nat finally looks at him, eyes wet. Travis takes hold of her hand, rubs his thumb over her knuckles. He scoots closer, bringing her hand to his heart, allows her to feel the steady beat of it, before taking a deep breath, in and out. Still loyal, his heart says. Still yours.
Nat's pupils are blown wide, staring at the way her palm meets his chest, lips parted. He watches her take a shaky breath as she tries to withdraw her hand. He doesn't let her.
Leaning in, he captures her in a kiss, their first in nearly a year. It's telling, he thinks as she reciprocates, that it's him that intiates it, and not her.
Nat raises a hand to his cheek, and he can feel it shaking. The kiss is slow like a promise, out of the ordinary. Their kisses have always had danger lurking beneath the surface, like they were one wrong move away from devouring one another. Snakes striking each other, only to suck the venom back up.
Eventually they stop, foreheads resting together. Nat's crying again, lips trembling. He raises his hand to her cheek, matching her.
"You're gonna get through this, okay?" he says, breathing slow, willing her to copy him. She does.
"Yeah," she breathes in shakily, nodding. "Yeah, I always do."
"You always do," Travis repeats. He leans back from her, squeezes her hand. He watches Nat take a deep breath, closing her eyes and nodding again, before leaving the hut. She doesn't look back.
Travis watches her go, watches her step into the mid-morning sun, soaking in its rays for a brief reprieve. He stands, leaves too, but doesn't follow her.
Lottie probably needs him.