“That sounds nice. Having people to share work with.”
The wistfulness in her voice made his chest ache. She’d never had that. Never had anyone to share anything with, except for the small creature on her shoulder and the disembodied voice of an AI.
“It can be,” he said carefully. “When it works well.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
“Then it’s just another kind of cage.”
She turned to look at him, the spoon pausing mid-stir. He saw the question forming in her eyes, the curiosity that never seemedto rest. But she didn’t push. Just nodded slightly and returned her attention to the pan.
He was grateful for that. Grateful she understood there were things he wasn’t ready to discuss.
They ate at the same table where she’d served him earlier, but the atmosphere was different now, charged with awareness that hadn’t been there before.
Or maybe it had been there all along, and he’d just been too stubborn to admit it.
“This is...” She paused, chewing slowly, her expression one of concentrated analysis. “Different. The texture is more complex than preserved meat. And the flavor—there are layers I wasn’t expecting.”
“That’s the freshness. And the fat. Preserved food loses a lot in the process.”
“It’s wonderful.” She took another bite, her eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “I can’t believe you just... went outside and found this. Killed it. Brought it back.”
“It’s what I do.”
“Hunt things?”
“Survive.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him across the table. In the soft light of the kitchen, her features seemed almost luminous—the gold flecks in her blue eyes catching the glow, her pale skin flushed with the warmth of the meal.
“You’re very good at it,” she said. “Surviving.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“Will you teach me?”
The question caught him off guard. “Teach you what?”
“To survive. Outside the tower. In the jungle.” She gestured towards the window, where the last light of day was painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. “I want to learn. I want to know what it’s like to actually be out there, not just watching from above.”
She’s asking to leave,he realized.Not directly, but that’s what she means.
“The jungle is dangerous,” he said. “Even for someone with experience.”
“Everything is dangerous. Even staying safe can be dangerous—you just don’t notice the danger because it happens slowly.” She set down her fork, fixing him with a look of unexpected intensity. “I’ve been safe my whole life, Baylin. And I’m starting to realize that safety might be the most dangerous thing of all.”
He didn’t have an answer for that. He couldn’t argue with the truth of it.
“Come with me to the balcony,” he said instead. “I’ll show you what’s out there.”
The evening air was warm and heavy with moisture, carrying the sounds of the jungle as it shifted from day to night. She stood at the railing, her face turned towards the darkening canopy below, while he positioned himself beside her, close enough to point things out but far enough to maintain some distance between them.
Not that distance seemed to matter. He was acutely aware of her presence regardless.
“There,” he said, pointing towards a cluster of trees about a hundred meters out. “See that movement in the upper branches?”
She leaned forward, squinting. “The shadows? They’re moving differently than the leaves around them.”
