“But the creatures here… they’re different. Relentless.” He pauses, glancing towards the dark mouth of the cave, in the direction of his small valley. “And they will be many.”
The weight of his words sinks in, nearly stealing my breath.
Solan continues, keeping his voice steady and assured, a promise of safety underlying each word, “Jamie will be protected here. This home is secure, concealed from sight, and guarded by sensory triggers. I will activate the alert myself—nothing will step foot within this boundary without my knowing. My home has strong scents to keep creatures away from my territory.”
I rub the back of my neck, my mind reeling. Leaving Jamie here goes against every instinct I have. It’s unnatural, every partof me screaming that my place is by his side. But Solan’s right. Bringing Jamie could mean him ending up face-to-face with the kind of creatures that crawl out of nightmares.
“Do you promise?” I ask, the words escaping me before I can stop them. “Do you promise he’ll be safe?”
Solan nods, his gaze unwavering. “He will be.”
My heart beats fast as I try to reconcile the overwhelming urge to protect with the truth that sometimes protection is choosing the harder path. Jamie will be safest here.
A soft sound from behind catches my attention, and I turn to see Jamie standing in the archway, his eyes bleary, but clearly he’s heard more than enough. He’s clutching the shotgun, knuckles white around the handle, his face set in reluctant determination.
He sighs, the weight of everything visible in his expression. “I’ll stay,” he says reluctantly. “But I’m keeping the shotgun.”
The faintest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Solan’s mouth. “It is a good weapon. Keep it close.”
We pack up in silence, checking our gear and arming ourselves. Every movement feels too loud, too final. I give Jamie one last once-over, then draw him into a fierce hug, knowing he understands more than I’d like him to. He’ll be safe. And that has to be enough.
As I pull away, I meet his gaze, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
He nods, his bravado holding steady. Then, with a deep breath, I mount Geralt, his muscles tense beneath me, and turn to follow the monster who’s taken it upon himself to protect us. As we ride out of the valley, I can feel Jamie watching, his gaze like a tether pulling at me as we vanish into the distance.
It’simpossible not to whip my head around, trying to take everything in. Yesterday, the whole journey had been shrouded in fear. Am I still afraid? I barely hold back my snort as I even think that. I’m fucking terrified. Scared for Jamie, and for me, at the very idea of not getting home.
I’m also petrified of what we’re going to find the closer to my property we get.
Considering all that, it’s easier to focus on the unusual trees, the banks of purple flowers that look like a cross between a lily and a Venus flytrap. That alone tells me it’s likely to bite my face off if I get any closer.
Solan jogs at my side, something I’m becoming more accustomed to. After he saved us and we fled together, there’s little doubt Solan’s speed and endurance are beyond that of human capabilities. Honestly, that Solan can hold a conversation while Geralt is likely doing twenty kilometres per hour is impressive.
Solan jogs easily alongside me, his movements so smooth that he barely seems winded. During the past thirty minutes, he’s been peppering me with questions about Earth, clearly fact-checking bits and pieces of what he’s learned from Arnold Schwarzenegger characters. The unexpected quiz is oddly comforting, distracting me from the gut-churning fear and keeping my mind away from the twisted, gnarled plants flanking our path.
“Is it true that all Earth males are expected to be able to bench… what was it… at least a hundred pounds?” he asks suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts.
I blink at him, nearly missing the humour sparkling in his golden eyes. “Uh, no. Not all of us can lift half our own body weight, actually. But, uh, some do to stay strong and fit.” I can’t help a smile as he absorbs this, apparently genuinely surprised.
We continue in silence for a few more steps, only for Solan to throw out “And this thing… called a ‘toaster’—is it really used to, what did they say… prevent food from becoming ‘sad’?”
“Wait, what?” I laugh, nearly choking. “A toaster? No, it’s… it’s just for making toast. Like heating up bread. It has nothing to do with sad food.”
His brow furrows, and he shoots me a sceptical look as though I’m pulling his leg. “Strange. You Earth humans have peculiar gadgets. But I like the idea of not making food sad.”
Another chuckle escapes me. As it does, his red strands dance in a way that has nothing to do with the breeze or his running. They’re too controlled, like there’s almost a pattern to them. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him about it, but a flash of familiar scenery has me stopping and clamping my lips together.
On the horizon is rich, red earth as well as a cluster of gum trees that are as familiar to me as the land itself.
Just as I’m about to instruct Geralt to pick up his pace, Solan’s “Wait” stops me in my tracks. Literally. He comes to a halt, taking Geralt’s reins as he does so. Geralt barely makes a peep as he pauses from his steady run. Not that I’m surprised about my horse’s easy acceptance. Beyond a sniff of Solan’s large four-digit hand when I introduced them, Geralt has been weirdly at ease with the red-skinned Pyronox—something else I’ve discovered on this journey: his species name.
And yes, I have so many questions that I’m determined to get answers to—when I’m not wondering if I’m going to have to run—or fight—for my survival in the next half hour.
“What is it? Is something wrong?” I scan the area with narrowed eyes, alert and hesitant even as longing urges me forwards to once more feel the Aussie soil beneath my feet. But I need to be smart. That means I need to listen to Solan and follow his lead.
The Pyronox is a hunter, for crying out loud. The closest thing to hunting I’ve experienced is battling a few brown snakes who’ve slithered into the house over the years and putting down a few roos who’ve got themselves tangled in barbed wire.
When Solan doesn’t respond, I cast him a glance. His focus is to the west of the property—where the edge of my sister’s fence line touches Terrafeara.
