“Yes,” I say, and mean it. “When we’re out of here, I’ll tell you everything.”
His eyes search mine. “You promise?”
“I promise,” I say firmly. “I made a mistake not telling you sooner. I won’t make it again.”
He exhales, some of the tension finally leaving him. He nods, then glances back at his bag. “We’re heading east today, right?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I’ve got a few more checks I want to make along the way.”
I don’t sayI want to keep you moving. I don’t sayI want distance between you and anything that might reach for you again. Elias would hear it anyway.
I usually linger here longer—Yellowstone is a hub, a place that’s often considered neutral territory. After this, when summer begins to wane, I head southeast, toward the Great Smoky Mountains. I have another home there, another cave carved into stone and patience.
But right now, the idea of staying still feels wrong.
Before we leave, we say our goodbyes.
Bob claps me on the shoulder, lightning subdued but eyes sharp. “You did well.”
“So did you,” I reply.
Christopher hugs Elias tightly, murmuring something that makes him laugh and blink back emotion all at once.
Then we’re walking.
The wards hum as we approach, a familiar resonance that eases as we pass through—me without resistance, Elias with the gentle warmth of his rune answering in kind. The world beyond feels quieter somehow, less concentrated.
Elias doesn’t speak for a while.
I let the silence stretch, knowing better than to fill it prematurely. We walk through dappled sunlight and shadow, the path uneven and alive with roots and stones and the quiet conversations of the forest.
Then Elias trips.
It’s not dramatic—just a misjudged step and a root that rises faster than expected—but he goes down on his ass with an undignifiedoof.
I’m there instantly, hauling him up with a huff of laughter he pretends not to hear.
“One of these days,” he mutters, brushing dirt from his pants, “I’ll learn how to dodge roots.”
I grin. “You do fine.”
“In a hundred years,” he adds lightly, “maybe I’ll have it mastered.”
The words hit me like a thunderclap. I scoop him up without thinking, arms wrapping around him, lifting him clean off the ground. He yelps in surprise, then laughs breathlessly as I kiss him—hard, joyful, unrestrained.
When I pull back, he’s flushed and wide-eyed, still in my arms.
“That’s not a hundred percent yes, but—” he starts.
I cut him off gently, pressing my forehead to his. “That you’re even considering it is enough for now.”
And it is.
Contentment eases into my bones without fear snapping at its heels. Whatever comes next—whatever choices Elias makes—I will walk beside him as long as he lets me.
And for now? That is everything.
We walk for a while after that, the forest easing around us like it’s decided we belong here, at least for the moment. Elias settles back into an easy rhythm, his earlier quiet givingway to quiet contemplation instead of heaviness. I can feel him thinking, turning things over in that endlessly curious mind of his, and for once, I don’t interrupt.
