Even the carrion birds stopped following us.
Two weeks in, the terrain finally shifted. Hills rose around us, the land folding into ridges like crumpled paper. Trees appeared more frequently, stunted and tough, clinging to sheltered slopes. Streams ran faster here, cutting through stone, the water so cold it burned.
We found a decent campsite near a shallow river, tucked into the lee of a hill high up in a narrow valley where the wind wasn't quite as brutal. The terrain had forced us close to the water—everything else was exposed cliff face or unstable scree. The team moved with exhausted relief, pitching tents with practiced efficiency, organizing equipment, setting up the cooking area.
The sky hung heavy and grey, pressing down like a weight. The temperature dropped sharply as evening approached, our breath fogging thick and white.
Nathan and Megan retreated early to their tent. Planning tomorrow's survey route, probably. Or not. It wasn’t long until I heard heavy breathing, the shifting of fabric, the occasional smothered moan. I tried not to let myself think about it.
The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks spiralling into the dark. Even with the camp stove for cooking on, and the large lights we set up around the camp, we had started building fires at night. The fire gave more warmth, and somehow felt more human than the fluorescent lamps. Out here, we all seemed to have accepted it was something we needed without talking about it, the living warmth of fire. I sat close enough to feel the heat on my face, letting it soak into my frozen skin. Dev and Stephen had claimed spots on either side of me, passing around tin mugs of coffee.
"So," Dev said, voice light and teasing. "We going to talk about the elephant in the room? Or should I say, the mammoth?"
I glanced at him sideways. "What mammoth?"
"The one where our fearless leaders," he jerked his chin toward Nathan and Megan's tent, "keep acting like they're on a romantic getaway instead of a life-or-death temporal rescue mission."
Heat flooded my face. "Dev—"
"I'm just saying." He held up his hands, grinning. "If I'd known this was going to be that kind of expedition, I'd have brought my wife. She's got better survival skills than half this team anyway."
Stephen snorted into his coffee. "Your wife scares me."
"She should. Woman can gut a fish in under thirty seconds." Dev's voice softened with obvious affection. "And she's got our son convinced his dad's a superhero for volunteering to save the future. Kid's three. Draws pictures of me fighting dragons."
Something twisted in my chest. "You must miss them."
"Every damn second." Dev stared into the fire, smile fading slightly. "But that's why I'm here. So he gets to grow up. So shegets to watch him become whatever he wants to be." He shook himself, brightness returning. "Besides, I've got stupid high magical capacity. Practically a battery. Would've been selfish to stay home."
Stephen stretched his legs toward the flames, nearly knocking over his cup. "Meanwhile, I'm just here because I have decent capacity and a complete lack of self-preservation instinct."
"That's not true," I said. "You're one of the best field researchers in the program."
"Aw, she does like me." He grinned at me, boyish and warm. "And hey, if we make it back, I'm finally going to ask out that guy in the quantum lab. Been chickening out for months, but nothing says romance like potential extinction."
Dev raised his cup in salute. "To questionable life choices and worse timing."
They both looked at me expectantly.
I forced a smile and lifted my own cup. "To getting home."
The coffee had gone lukewarm, but I drank it anyway.
"So," Stephen said carefully, "your capacity never got tested, right?"
I tensed. "No time. They rushed my recruitment."
"That's insane." Dev frowned. "They should've—"
"It's fine." I cut him off, keeping my voice even. "I'm managing the load okay."
A sound drifted from Nathan and Megan's tent — unmistakable, breathy, rhythmic. A moan that Megan didn't even try to muffle.
Dev's jaw tightened. Stephen suddenly found the bottom of his mug fascinating.
I stared at the fire and willed my face not to change as the pain inside, once a dull throb like a bruise, pressed too hard, and I swallowed against the taste of copper that rose in the back of my throat.
"Right," Dev said flatly. "That's... lovely."
