Not since the day they cast me out.
But her…
Her voice didn’t demand. It asked.
That’s worse. That’s so much worse.
Because Iwantedto answer.
I open my eyes. Stare into the dark.
She’s in there now.
In my blood.
In my bones.
And no matter how deep I crawl into this mountain, I know I won’t be able to dig her out.
The canyon wind cuts cold across my skin as I climb, talons digging into crumbling rock, the chill threading through my fur like needles. I move without reason, driven by something restless and half-formed, like a splinter under the flesh I can’t dig out. The sting tail blood’s long since dried. The bruises from the fight faded. But the weight of her stare… that hasn’t gone anywhere.
I crest the ridge just as dusk kisses the canyon, turning the world copper and shadow. From this high, I can see everything. The ragged fence line the marines think keeps them safe. The smoldering lights of the camp like dying stars. The empty ledge where she used to sit.
She’s not there.
Of course she’s not.
Why would she come back after what she saw?
What Iam?
I settle into the rocks anyway, easing my bulk down until I’m tucked in tight with the jagged stone at my back and the cliff falling away beneath my feet. I fold my arms and try to still my breathing. Old habits. Soldier habits. They die hard, even after exile. Even aftereverything.
Meditation.
That’s what I used to call this.
Center the breath. Let the mind drift. Release the noise.
But there’s no release tonight.
Only her voice, echoing through me like thunder in the bones.
“Wait.”
I grit my teeth, jaw flexing with the memory.
I should’ve turned. Should’ve left her with her scream half-formed, let the sting tail finish what the marines never could.
But I didn’t.
Icouldn’t.
And now?—
Now, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.
I catch myself glancing at the ledge again. Still empty. I tell myself I’m relieved. That her absence means she’s smart. Alive. Safe.
