The transport hums steadily over rougher ground. I keep the shoulder restraint tight across my body and try not to grip the side frame every time the vehicle shifts.
Kaiven sits opposite me, silent more often than not. The silence should be awkward. Somehow it isn’t. Heavy, yes. Constant, yes. But not empty. He notices too much for silence to feel empty around him. I can feel when his attention lands on me even if I am not looking straight at him. That should make me more nervous than it does.
I glance at him once when I think he is looking out the opposite panel. He isn’t. His eyes catch mine immediately. Amber. Bright. Too sharp to miss much of anything. I look away first.
Outside, something large moves through the grass far enough from the road that I almost think I imagined it. Then I see it again. A herd, maybe. Except no herd on Mars ever looked like that. Tall-backed bodies. Long necks. Horns curving back over their skulls. Hides darker than the grass around them.
My voice comes before I decide whether I want to speak.
“What are those?”
Kaiven turns his head toward the window I am watching.
“Drenak.”
I wait, expecting more. When it doesn’t come, I look back at him.
“They travel in herds?” I ask.
“Yes.”
That is all. The answer is so brief I almost smile despite myself.
“That’s not very much information.”
Something shifts in his face. Not softness exactly. More like the edge of something held back loosens half a step.
“They are not aggressive unless threatened,” he says. “Their horns kill badly if they panic.”
I turn back to the window at once.
“That is more information.”
“It is the important part.”
I can’t argue with that.
The land keeps changing. In some places the gold grasses grow taller, almost silver where the light catches them differently. Dark birds circle overhead, wings broad enough to cast moving shadows over the road. In the distance, strange stone formations rise out of the plains. Not mountains. Not hills. Sharp black and red rock like old violence froze into the ground.
There are rivers too. Not large ones yet, but narrow shining bands of real water winding through the land and catching the sun hard enough to make me stare every time we pass. Once I see broad-leafed plants crowding a wetter bank, taller than anything that should grow in open ground.
Everything feels too real. That is what keeps hitting me. Not a simulation. Not a managed dome. A world that grows and hunts and bleeds on its own.
The transport jolts harder than before as we leave the smoother road entirely and cut across rougher ground. My hand snaps back to the side frame. Kaiven notices at once. He reaches toward a panel beside his seat, presses something, and the suspension shifts. The ride smooths slightly. Not perfect, but better.
I look at him before I can stop myself.
“You did that for me.”
“For the road,” he says.
But that is not true, and both of us know it. I don’t call him on it. I only nod and settle back into the seat.
A few minutes later, one of the warriors in the front passes something through the open gap in the divider. A sealed food container, wrapped to hold heat. Kaiven takes it, opens it, checks it once, then holds it out across the space between us.
“Tava.”
The word is low and simple. He glances at the food, then adds in English, “Eat.”
