The fog hung low over the northern ridge, wrapping the treetops in silence. Annie's boots barely made a sound as she stepped between roots and scattered needles. She'd gone ahead—again. Not far enough to raise alarms, but enough to be alone.
Her task was to reset the perimeter traps. Routine. Expected. But she'd followed a faint track deeper into the brush, a hint of something—or maybe nothing—pulling her further than needed.
The trap had been sprung. She crouched, fingers brushing dirt from the mechanism. The pressure plate had shifted slightly. She moved to reset it, hands quick, efficient.
Then her foot slipped.
A snap echoed—metal teeth clanging shut, sharp and loud in the quiet.
Annie flinched, instinctively ducking low.
No movement followed. No voices. No signal flares.
Still, it was a mistake. A loud one.
She reset the trap properly this time, kicked debris over it, and turned back without reporting it.
---
That evening – Headquarters
The barracks buzzed with muted activity. Boots scraped the floors. Swords were cleaned and hung. Mikasa strode through it all with her usual quiet authority, wound tightly bandaged beneath her uniform.
She found Annie near the stairwell, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. She didn't move when Mikasa approached.
"You were late on the northern route," Mikasa said, flatly.
"I finished it."
"One of the traps was triggered."
Annie shrugged slightly. "Maybe the wind set it off."
"You were assigned that sector."
"And nothing's broken."
The silence stretched between them, taut and close. Mikasa's eyes narrowed. Then, without a word, she reached up and brushed something from Annie's collar—fingers trailing near the side of her neck.
Annie didn't move, but her breath caught. Subtle, but not invisible.
"You're not good at lying," Mikasa murmured.
Annie's eyes didn't flinch. "And you're not good at trusting people."
Mikasa's hand lingered a second longer, then dropped. "Training yard. Sunrise."
She turned and walked away. Annie remained still, jaw tight, heart ticking in her throat.
---
Later that night – Command Room
The candlelight flickered over worn maps, throwing shadows across the table. Armin leaned over a corner of the northern quadrant, reviewing patrol notes.
Eren stood nearby, arms folded. "She didn't log the trap. You saw that too, right?"
"I did," Armin replied. "Could've been a mistake."
"She doesn't make mistakes."
Armin exhaled. "She doesn't admit them, either."
Eren's voice dipped. "I don't trust her."
"She's quiet. Distant. That doesn't make her a threat."
"No," Eren said, "but it makes her hard to read. Especially now."
Armin looked at him. "You think she's hiding something?"
"I think she doesn't care if anyone thinks she is."
They stood in silence for a beat, eyes on the map.
"She's not like the rest of us," Armin said. "And I think Mikasa sees that."
"Mikasa's been… distracted."
Armin didn't argue. The change in Mikasa had been subtle, but not invisible.
"She doesn't act like that around anyone else," Eren added.
"Maybe she's just watching her closely," Armin offered. "Trying to figure her out."
Eren didn't respond at first. "Or maybe she already has."
He turned and walked out, his expression unreadable.
Alone, Armin stared at the spot on the map where the trap had gone off… and the silence that followed.