Her eyes narrow slightly as she looks at me again. “You haven’t changed.”
My jaw tightens.
Good genes is the standard answer.
I don’t give it.
“Time moves different out here,” I say instead.
The hum climbs higher. A thin ringing fills my ears.
Her smile widens, unaware. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
I freeze, uncertain of her meaning.
“Or at least, time giving up its secrets.”
Martin laughs.
I don’t.
The glyphs respond like metal drawn toward a magnet.
God.
This is her.
My first resonance spike. And it’s violent.
I force my posture loose. No one needs to see what’s happening under my skin.
“You still lecturing people about staying off government land?” she asks, amused.
“Always.”
She smiles again, wide enough that I see it.
One slightly crooked tooth. It breaks the symmetry of her grin just enough to make it human. Adorable.
“Good,” she says. “I’d hate to disappoint you.”
The vibration stabilizes for half a breath.
Then spikes again.
It isn’t just attraction. It’s alignment.
My grandfather’s warnings rise from memory.When it comes, it won’t ask permission. It will demand balance.
She rests her forearms on the fence rail. “I’m here for fieldwork. Petroglyphs up near the foothills. Anomalous patterns no one’s translated yet.”
My stomach drops.
“You’ll stay clear of the upper ridges,” I say. It comes out more command than suggestion.
Her brow lifts. Not offended. Curious.
“Is that neighborly advice,” she asks, “or something else?”
