His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head as if the decision of whether to speak to me was difficult. It seemed he didn’t want to, but he knew he might not have a choice.
“Ouroboros,” he repeated, looking back at me again. And this time, his voice was harder around the edges and flooded my ears.
The sound of him pulled me to my knees, and I set the book down and grabbed the thermos. I was just excited to hear him, to finally speak with him, and I couldn’t let this moment fade.
“You should eat. I brought you soup. The broth will be good for you. Can you try sitting up?”
The man clutched his side and struggled to lift his back off the ground. I reached out a hand to help him, but he curled his shoulder away from me, inching farther until his back met the cave wall.
“Okay,” I said, holding my palms up and backing away to give him space. “You don’t need help. I get it.”
He dropped his head back against the wall, keeping his gaze on me, watching me through thick lashes as if I was going to harm him.
“Ouroboros,” I said, wondering if his meaning of the word was the same as mine. “What does it mean?”
I had to keep him talking to get answers, so I sat back on my legs and found patience. As I unscrewed the thermos lid, my gaze bounced back and forth between him and my hands. Mistrust embroidered the both of us.
The man lifted his head off the wall, laying his unbroken eyes on me. A frank, intelligent gaze. At his side, he drew a circle in the sand with a lazy fingertip.
He retraced it again and again.
The cycle of life, death, and rebirth.
Then he leaned back against the rock, studying me with black, velvet eyes. “Though I cannot say if this is an end or a beginning.”
I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “Where did you come from?”
The stranger didn’t answer, but his unwavering stare remained.
I pulled away first and lowered my chin to my chest, realizing I’d been clutching the thermos tightly with both hands. I lifted my eyes to his once more, and the steam from the soup rose between us. The smell of vegetables soaked in broth smothered the salt in the air.
I tried again. “Do you know how you got here?”
But he only stared at me.
A deep stare that arrested me.
I cleared my throat. “Well, then, do you remember your name?”
At first, he was hesitant.
Then, “Stone,” he said. And I watched the way his mouth barely moved as he said it. He left his blue lips parted, and I traced their shape with my eyes. Demanding yet generous.
“Stone,” I repeated, not only feeling his name rush through my teeth but also the chill of it sweep across my bones. The name was fitting and new to me, like him, considering the conditions in which I’d found him.
Stone dropped his head to the side, his eyes catching mine. “What is your name?” His voice was curious, and he looked at me as if I were the most interesting person in the world. Like he’d never seen another human before me.
No one had ever looked at me like this before.
I wondered if it was the same way I looked at my sea.
My jaw snapped shut. If I told Stone my name and he was found by another, it could be used against me. A weapon, a threat. I had to remain in control of the situation. Not him.
“Here.” I offered him the soup. “I made it last night for dinner. I’m not a very good cook, but everyone always says leftovers taste better the next day.”
Stone didn’t make a move for the thermos. He only stared.
“You’re weak. You need to eat something,” I insisted.
