Anya’s breaths come in thin, trembling wisps as her body weakens in Bear’s arms, her head resting against his chest while the world around them narrows into a blur of fading light and muffled sounds, and Bear can feel the life slipping from her even as he tightens his hold, desperate to keep her tethered to the moment for just a little longer, whispering her name with a voice strained by grief he’s not ready to face, but Anya, though barely conscious, summons her remaining strength with a fierce clarity born of a mother’s love, clutching the front of his shirt as though he is her last anchor to the world, her eyes searching his with a mixture of terror, hope, and the unbearable weight of unfinished duty. Her lips part, trembling as she tries to speak, and Bear leans closer, his breath shaking, his heart pounding in frantic rhythm with the urgency in her gaze, until her voice emerges as a broken whisper begging him—pleading with him—to take care of her daughter, the girl she has fought quietly and painfully for years to protect from a distance, the daughter who lives somewhere in the Dales completely unaware that her mother is dying in the arms of the only person she trusts enough to carry her final hope. The words spill from Anya with desperate fragility, punctured by gasps as she tries to explain through the haze of pain that she can’t leave this world until she knows someone will be there for her girl, someone strong, someone kind, someone who will not give up even when danger closes in, because she knows too well the shadows that have stalked her life and how easily those shadows could turn toward her daughter once she is gone. Bear feels his chest constrict with a grief so sharp it steals his breath, but he forces himself to stay steady, letting her fingers curl around his hand as he tells her—first in a hoarse murmur, then with a steadiness he doesn’t truly feel—that he will protect the girl with everything he has, that he will find her, watch over her, guide her, and never let her feel abandoned or alone, but Anya shakes her head, her eyes widening as she tries to make him understand that this isn’t a promise made lightly, that this is her last wish, her final plea, the only thing holding back the tide of fear threatening to swallow her whole. Tears streak down her cheeks as she tries to form the girl’s name, her voice cracking, her breaths faltering, and Bear bends close enough to feel the trembling of her lips as she forces the name into the open, delivering it like a fragile secret meant for his ears alone, and he absorbs it with a solemn nod, letting the syllables echo inside him like a vow carved directly into his heart. She tells him where the girl is, what little she knows of her life, the dangers she fears might surface, the truths that must be handled gently, and Bear listens as though memorizing each word is the only thing keeping him from collapsing under the weight of the moment, his arms wrapped around her with a protectiveness that mirrors the very promise she’s begging him to fulfill. Anya’s voice grows softer, fading like the last flicker of a dying candle, and she apologizes—apologizes for not being the mother she wanted to be, for loving her daughter from the shadows, for not having more time, and for placing such a heavy burden on Bear’s shoulders, but Bear shakes his head fiercely, tears brimming in his eyes as he assures her that what she’s asking is not a burden but an honor, that he will guard the girl with his life, that he will carry Anya’s love to her when the time is right, that her daughter will never feel unwanted, never feel unprotected, never doubt that her mother’s final breath was spent fighting for her happiness. Anya’s expression softens with a bittersweet mix of relief and sorrow as she listens to him, her shaking hand lifting just enough to brush the side of his face in a gesture full of gratitude she can no longer voice fully, and Bear feels that touch like a blessing and a farewell all at once, a final reminder of the trust she has placed in him. Her breaths become shallower, slower, her eyelids fluttering as though each blink is harder to complete, and the world seems to hold its breath with them as Bear whispers that he’s here, that she’s safe, that her daughter will be safe too, but Anya’s gaze drifts toward the horizon, her eyes clouded with both peace and lingering ache, and she exhales a final shaky plea—“Please… look after her”—before her fingers slip from his, her body relaxing fully into his embrace, the last remnants of her struggle fading into stillness. Bear remains frozen, holding her gently as the weight of her final request settles into him with the force of a tidal wave, grief crashing through him in relentless waves while a fierce, unbreakable determination begins to ignite beneath the sorrow. He presses his forehead to hers in a silent promise before gathering her close one last time, knowing that the moment he stands, his life will no longer be his own, because somewhere in the Dales a girl is living her ordinary life, unaware that her mother’s final breath was used to beg a man she barely knows to become her guardian, her protector, her last link to a woman who loved her beyond measure, and Bear knows with absolute certainty that he will honor that promise, no matter what it costs him.