The morning mist clung to the forest, making everything feel fragile, like the world might break apart if they didn’t act. Nora adjusted the chain around her waist, her hands trembling—not from fear, but from adrenaline. Across the clearing, another protester secured his chain to a towering oak. He had tousled hair, a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and the kind of resolve in his eyes that made her chest tighten.

“First protest?” he asked, catching her looking.

“No,” she lied, straightening her spine. “You?”

“Not my first tree,” he said with a lopsided grin. “But definitely the prettiest one I’ve seen today.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. Before she could respond, the sound of engines roared in the distance. The logging crew was coming.

“Here we go,” he muttered, pulling his chain taut and sitting down at the base of the oak. Nora mirrored him, her back against her tree, her heart thundering as the machines grew closer.

Hours passed. The loggers shouted threats, but the protest line held strong. He kept cracking jokes to lighten the mood, and she found herself laughing despite the tension.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked.

“Sam,” he said, grinning. “And yours?”

“Nora.”

“Well, Nora,” he said, glancing up at the canopy, “if we make it through this, I owe you a coffee. Or…whatever eco-friendly date you’d prefer.”

“Coffee sounds fine,” she said, biting back a smile.

By the time dusk fell, the loggers had given up for the day. Sam walked her back to her car, their chains slung over their shoulders like badges of honor.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft under the stars.

She nodded, and as he turned to leave, she called out, “Sam!”

He looked back, and she smiled. “Bring two coffees next time.”

For the first time that day, he looked a little breathless. “Deal.”

In the forest’s quiet, their roots had already begun to entwine.