“I do not think I am most people.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
She raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
I flex my hands, feeling the heat beneath my skin. The way my body temperature runs too high. The instincts that guide me without explanation—tracking, hunting, knowing which plants are safe and which will poison. The strange certainty that I amcapableof things I cannot name.
“I am different,” I finally say, bracing myself for disbelief.
Instead, she says, “Well, whatever you are, you saved my life. So I’m filing you under ‘friendly mountain cryptid’ and moving on.”
“Cryptid?”
“You know… Bigfoot, yeti, that sort of thing. Mysterious creatures people spot in the wilderness.” Her grin is crooked. “I run a whole conspiracy channel about this stuff, actually. Urban legends, unexplained phenomena. Drove my mom crazy.”
“Your mother did not approve?”
The grin fades slightly. “My mom didn’t approve of a lot of my life choices. She wanted me to be different from her. Get a nice stable job, meet a nice stable guy, settle down in a nice stable house.” She picks at the shirt hem. “But I was more interested in chasing weird stories and posting about lizard people at 3 am.”
“Lizard people,” I repeat, fairly certain I heard wrong.
“Long story. Weird story. Probably not real.” She waves it off. “Point is, I’m used to things not making sense. So you being a mysterious mountain man? Honestly, that tracks with my life so far.”
I find myself almost smiling. “You are… unusual.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She shifts slightly, wincing as the movement pulls at her side. “Usually right before someone asks me to leave their establishment.”
“You should not move yet.” I reach to steady her, hand hovering near her shoulder. “You have already done too much. Your injuries—”
“Don’t hurt like they should. I know.” She looks down at where my hand almost touches her. “You’re really warm, you know that? Like, unnaturally warm.”
I pull back. “I apologize—”
“No, it’s not bad. Just… noticeable.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Do you feel feverish? Sick?”
“No. I feel…” I search for honest words. “Strong. Healthy.”
“The temperature thing might be why you survived up here,” she says. “If you’re running hot, you wouldn’t need as much shelter. Fewer supplies.”
The logic makes sense, but doesn’t explain the depth of the “otherness” I feel within myself. Still, I nod. “Perhaps.”
She pauses then and glances around the cave. “I’m going to have to get out of here soon, K.” She looks back at me. “How long do you think before I can travel?” she asks. “Like, actually walk out of here?”
The question unsettles me more than I expect. I don’t like the idea of her out there alone. Vulnerable.
I assess her carefully. The color has returned to her cheeks. Her breathing is stronger. But the memory of what I pulled from the wreckage—the impossible damage that should have killed her—makes me cautious.
“A day,” I say. “At least. Your body healed impossibly fast, but it still needs time.”
“A day.” She exhales slowly. “Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Luke and Ember will probably assume I’m dead by then, but—”
“You believe they will not search?”
“I believe they’ll search the crash site. Maybe the area around it. But K, we’re two days from civilization in terrain most people couldn’t handle on their best day.” She gestures at herself. “And I’m supposed to be crushed under a helicopter. Eventually, they’ll have to give up. Move on.”
The resignation in her voice bothers me more than it should.
“Then we make you well enough to find them,” I say. “Or we go to where they will search.”
