I watch him and realize soon my gear will be dry and I’ll be able to go, head back to the guesthouse and continue my search for the elusive plant I had returned for. I should be thrilled; this is my whole purpose after all. But I can’t deny the thought of leaving this magnificent Migoi has my dedication to my purpose wavering.
He was supposed to be a distraction. A stolen moment. But now, I can’t ignore the dangerous ache blooming in my chest. The kind that saysstay.Make this your forever home.
Despite just meeting, he sees me more clearly than Ben ever did in all our years together. With him, I feel safer and more cherished than I have since my mother was alive. I want to hide away from time, and genetics, hell hide away from the whole world here in these caves. After everything that has happened, don’t I deserve a break?
I decide I’ll give myself one more day in this suspended reality. Just one more day of this delicious pleasure we’ve been discovering and the chance to explore the fantasies that have been unfulfilled until now.
With a full belly, I lie down in the mountain of furs, full and warm and content in a way I didn’t know I needed. The Migoi hums low under his breath as he tidies, something ancient and rhythmic in the sound. The softly crackling fire mixes with it to make the perfect, relaxing background soundtrack.
He returns to my side, lowering himself behind me where he curls his massive body around mine like a living shield. His heat seeps into my skin as his breath ghosts over the back of my neck.
I let myself sink into his arms, into this strange little world we’ve carved out of stone and ice. It feels so comfortable, so warm and safe.Home,pulses again in my heart, more sensation than thought.
Gods help me—I don’t want to go. Tomorrow, I’ll start thinking again. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out what I have to do. How to not just leave, but tell him that I must.
But tonight, I belong to him.
Chapter Twenty
Dahlia
Iwake to find the fire banked low, cold seeping through me in the chill of the cave. The furs have slipped off, leaving my flesh rippled with goosebumps. I grope around, seeking my warm, fuzzy companion, but the bed is empty.
I stand and stretch, crossing to where my clothes are neatly stacked. I slip them on, minus the ruined panties, and grab my boots. Sitting down I cobble the laces back together from where he cut them with his claw, a delicious shudder ghosting over me at the memory of what came next.
Looking for my missing Yeti, I venture out to the large pool, but not finding him, spin in a slow circle and take in the expanse of the caves. I know better than to go wandering in the dark alone, risking getting hurt or lost. One end of the cave appears lighter though, so I head towards it.
As I walk and more light filters in, shapes begin to emerge along the walls—paintings. Not crude or primitive, but ancient. Older than the famous cave paintings of France or Argentina, untouched by time yet holding the weight of centuries.
I reach out, fingers skimming just shy of the surface, afraid to disturb something sacred. The paintings tell the story of the Migoi’s world—a world that once held more of his kind. They show glimpses of their lives, their purpose. Guardians, protectors of the forest, just as Sita had said.
The beginning starts with a Yeti and a woman with the moon. Then, towering figures move through the mountains, their massive forms blending with the snow, nearly indistinguishable from the landscape itself. In another, two groups appear to come together, perhaps for a joining of families? My stomach twists as I follow the progression, tracing the changes with my eyes.
Further along, the figures dwindle. What was once a thriving presence slowly fades, replaced by emptier landscapes—mountains bare of their massive shapes, forests that feel hollow. A chill crawls up my spine.
And then, as the light grows brighter, I come across one final image. Larger than the others. A massive Yeti, standing tall. Beside it, another, slightly smaller. And between them, a small, rounded figure covered in thick fur. A baby.
My heart tightens. I step closer, breath shallow.
I don’t know why this painting affects me more than the others. Maybe it’s the way they stand, their bodies angled inward, protective. Maybe it’s the simple, aching familiarity of it—two parents, their child between them, their world reduced to this tiny, precious thing. A family. Gone, just like mine.
A lump rises in my throat as I wonder—what became of them? What became of all the Migoi on these walls? And why—why does my chest ache as if I already know the answer?
A breeze pulls my attention, and I turn from the somber story etched into stone and follow the whisper of fresh air. The tunnel widens, opening to the world beyond, and I step out into the fading light of sunset.
The sky is painted in deep violets and fiery reds, the lastbreath of the sun slipping below the jagged peaks. A few stars blink into existence, pinpricks against the twilight. The air is still, the hush of approaching night settling over the mountains like a blanket.
I exhale, tension bleeding from my limbs as I tilt my face toward the sky. The vastness stretches above me, boundless, a stark contrast to the enclosed cavern walls I have spent so much time within. For the first time in days, I feel small in a way that is not suffocating but freeing.
Wrapping my arms around myself as the temperature plummets with the setting sun, I decide to say put, not wanting to chance wandering away and getting lost in the dense forests surrounding me. As I sit on the ground, the sounds of the forest start to surround me, and I feel at peace.
In fact, this is the happiest I’ve been since I can remember. No frantic research, no Ben, no spiraling thoughts. Just the unique stillness that comes from being enveloped by nature rather than the noise of humanity.
It’s short lived as I feel a subtle shift in the air around me and sit up straighter, my senses sharpening. Fear ghosts over my skin as I realize how defenseless I am sitting out here alone in the darkening night. Plus the Migoi might worry if I’m gone too long. I stand and stretch my arms up to the sky and take a deep breath of the cold, crisp mountain air, then turn back.
But the entrance is gone. A frisson of fear skitters down my spine. I haven’t moved more than a few feet away, yet the opening that I just walked through is nowhere to be seen.
Frowning, I step forward, scanning the rock face, my fingers brushing against the rough stone. Hadn’t it been right here? I pace back and forth from where I swear I came out, my heart rate spiking as the wind shifts, curling around me like unseen hands. The mountains seem to stretch taller, the trees standing just a little closer than before.
