She barely registered sinking to her knees, Toxte following her down with his big, warm hands stroking her shoulders and back. Xessa’s body was slick with cold sweat, her head too light and her limbs too heavy, and the walls were pressing in and out as if they were breathing, as if she’d taken some magic.

Dimly, she knew Toxte was helping her purge some of the fear so she’d be calmer tomorrow, but the knowledge was distant and drowning under the ocean of her terror.

And then Ossa’s face was in her face, his tongue in her ear as he wriggled between them. She didn’t have the strength to push him away, knowing that if she let go of the double handful she had of Toxte’s shirt that she’d collapse. Toxte’s hands slid beneath her arms and tugged her forwards; he shifted to wrap his legs around her hips until she was cocooned in his limbs and Ossa was in there too, somehow, sprawled across their legs. Toxte pulled her head to his chest and the dog stilled, his breath fugging the tiny space between them.

The aftertaste of beer roiled in Xessa’s stomach again but then it settled, the only part of her that didn’t seem to be screaming. Her muscles and bones and heart and spirit all clamoured that she should run, run high and far and fast and never come back.

Toxte rocked her and let her cry, and she was embarrassed for him to see her like this. But the panic was still a roaring beast with claws hooked deep into her spirit and she could do nothing other than fight it, pulling on his strength, focusing on his body and his scent and the heat of his skin beneath her cheek. On the real.

She supposed that answered Toxte’s question about whether she was scared. Between them, dog and man brought her through it and back into the world, the panic receding like storm clouds, hovering on the horizon, threatening but no longer immediate. Her fingers were clenched in Toxte’s tunic and she uncurled them with difficulty. He leant back to look down at her and she managed a half-smile, half-grimace of apology. His brows were drawn together, worry etched across the fine bones of his face, and his full lips were thin with pressure. Xessa ducked her head as embarrassment began to seep in again, but he put his finger under her chin and lifted her face up; then he kissed her softly.

‘You should sleep,’ he said and she shook her head. ‘Tomorrow is—’