The shower and the meal will be welcome. But this – this is what I truly craved. A connection to another; this proof that someone was waiting for me and thinking of me
Cody steps out of the vessel as we approach, moving to help secure the equipment. When he reaches my side, his hand finds the small of my back, guiding me up the ramp and toward my seat. The urge to lean into him is almost overwhelming. I resist, but only just.
"How'd it go?" he asks.
"Better than expected." I settle into the co-pilot's chair beside him, allowing myself a small sigh of relief as the weight comes off my aching legs. "Dr. Petrova is optimistic about restoration timelines."
"That's great news."
There is more he wants to say, I can see it in the way his gaze lingers on my face, in the slight parting of his lips. But we are not alone, and whatever words hover between us will have to wait.
Movement catches my eye.
High above the horizon, silhouetted against the pale lavender sky, something soars on wide-spread wings.
"Cody." I lean forward, pointing. "There. Do you see it?"
He follows the direction of my gesture, squinting against the glare. "What is… Oh. Oh, wow. Is that a bird?"
"A gho'ba," I tell him, and I cannot keep the wonder from my voice.
The creature wheels in a slow, graceful arc, riding the thermal currents that rise from the sun-baked sand. Even at this distance, its wingspan is impressive, easily wider than I am tall.
"It's huge," Cody says, and he sounds about twelve years old. He leans eagerly forward, his shoulder flush with mine as he cranes for a better view. "I thought… When you described them, I pictured a hawk-sized bird. Maybe a little bigger. But that thing looks like a condor. Probably even bigger."
"They are magnificent hunters," I say. "Capable of taking prey twice their own weight."
"No kidding."
He's still watching the gho'ba with rapt attention, and I watch him. The childlike wonder on his face, the way his eyes track every movement of those distant wings. He looks the way I felt the first time I saw a gho'ba, that same breathless amazement at encountering a creature so beautiful and wild.
Then he reaches into a pocket on the breast of his uniform and withdraws something. The light catches it as he holds it up, and I recognize the carving instantly.
The gho'ba I gifted him.
He carries it with him.
The realization floods through me, staggering and sweet. He did not leave it in his quarters or tuck it away in storage. He keeps it close. Against his heart.
I want him.
The thought rises unbidden and undeniable. Not just his smile or his kindness or the way he makes me laugh. I want all of him – his steadiness, his courage, his goofy nature, his ridiculous optimism that somehow makes me believe impossiblethings might actually be possible. I want to wake beside him and fall asleep in his arms and build a future with him in whatever form that might take.
The intensity of the wanting frightens me a little.
"Look," Cody says, oblivious to my revelation. He gestures with the carving still in his hand. "It's coming closer."
He's right. The gho'ba has shifted its path, riding the currents in our direction. As it draws nearer, more details emerge. I watch the powerful beat of its wings, the sharp curve of its beak, and most striking of all, its coloring.
"Wow." Cody's voice sounds almost reverent. "I assumed they'd be brown. You know, tan or sandy, to blend in with the desert. But it's so red. It looks like a phoenix."
I glance at him, uncertain, and he catches my expression.
"A phoenix is a bird from human mythology," he explains. "When it dies, it bursts into flames and is reborn from the ashes. New life rising from destruction."
New life rising from destruction. I turn the idea over in my mind, finding unexpected comfort in it.
The gho'ba's plumage is a deep, rich crimson across its body and wings, darkest at the shoulders and gradually lightening as it extends toward the tail feathers. There, the red softens into shades of orange and copper, like embers glowing at the heart of a fire.
