“We should keep moving,” I said, not moving.
“We should.” He didn’t move either.
Our eyes met. Held. Something electric passed between us that had nothing to do with Brakken probes or cultural liaisons or anything except the undeniable pull I felt whenever he was near.
Then a group of children crested the ridge, running and laughing, and the moment broke.
Baleck stood and offered me his hand. This time I took it, let him pull me up. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm but gentle. When I was standing, he didn’t immediately let go.
“Iris—”
“Where to next?” I interrupted, pulling my hand free.
If he was disappointed, his colors didn’t show it. He just smiled and led the way down the other side of the ridge.
We spent the midday exploring a section of the valley that was thick with established native species. There were fewer people here. Mostly guards, keeping an eye out for predators, and even they were protected here. Baleck explained that the D’tran had never given up hope that the storms would end one day. They’d maintained the delicate balance of nature, as well as they could, inside the sanctuary of the mountains. It was looking more and more possible that the species living here would be able to roam freely again.
Back inside the shelter of the village, where those low stone walls were apparently enough of a deterrent for the predators that did roam the forests to not cross into the D’tran village, we paused by a small grove of fruit trees with a couple benches. It was a pretty spot to rest. A little D’tran female approached shyly, holding out a small carved figure. She said something in D’tran, her eyes shifting to hopeful yellows as she looked up at Baleck.
He crouched down to her level, accepting the gift with obvious pleasure. He said something that made her giggle, then gently touched her head before she ran back to her family.
I watched him stand, turning the carved figure over in his hands. It was a simple thing, rough but heartfelt.
“What did she say?” I asked.
“She made it for me. To say thank you for helping her father fix their water channel last week.” He looked at the figure with something soft in his expression. “She’s seven. She wants to visit the stars one day.”
Something in my chest clenched. “You’re good with them. The children.”
“They’re easy. No pretense. No walls.” He glanced at me meaningfully.
“Some of us need walls.”
“And some of us use them to hide.”
I wanted to argue, but he’d already moved on, pointing out something about the power system like we hadn’t just had an uncomfortably honest exchange.
We found a spot for lunch near a stream, where new grass grew thick enough to sit on. Baleck unpacked food—real food, not synthesized rations. Bread, fruit, some kind of preserved meat, and cheese.
“Where did you get cheese?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
“The D’tran have begun trading with a Destran supply ship. Small luxuries are starting to appear.” He handed me a piece. “Try it.”
I did. It was good. Really good. I may have made a sound that was borderline obscene.
Baleck’s skin flashed vivid gold and he quickly looked away. “Glad you like it.”
We ate in comfortable near-silence, broken only by occasional observations about the valley or the rebuilding efforts. But I was acutely aware of him beside me. The way sunlight caught the amber tones in his eyes. How his hands moved when he talked. The breadth of his shoulders under his shirt.
I was staring. I needed to stop staring.
“Iris,” he said quietly.
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
I tensed. “Depends on the question.”
