“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. I moderated my tone. “It is not safe beyond this area. The jungle has many predators, many dangers you are not equipped to face.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I handled myself fine getting to the pool and back.”
“The vines guided you. Protected you. And that was a short distance, through sectors I have already secured.”
She crossed her arms, challenge written in every line of her body. “So I’m just supposed to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you do your space cop thing?”
“Yes.” I met her challenge with firm resolve. “This shelter is safe. The defensive lattice will prevent any predators from approaching. Phil and the other vines will provide for your needs.”
“I’m not a houseplant that needs watering, Lor.” Her frustration was evident in the tight line of her mouth, the slight flare of her nostrils. “I don’t do well with being caged.”
“It is not a cage. It is protection.”
We stared at each other, locked in silent battle. I could feel her determination—the same fierce independence that had led her to chase cryptids and conspiracies across her world. She was not one to be confined, even for her own safety.
But neither was I one to bend when the stakes were this high.
“Fine,” she said finally, the word clipped. “I’ll stay put. For now.”
I studied her expression, searching for the truth behind her acquiescence. I found it in the stubborn set of her jaw, the calculation in her eyes. She had no intention of obeying.
Phil confirmed my suspicion, undulating against her wrist in a pattern that translated clearly through our shared connection:
She lies. She will explore.
I suppressed a growl of frustration. Of course she would. She was Miri—curious to a fault, fearless, rule-breaker. It was part of what drew me to her, even as it complicated my mission beyond measure.
“Miri,” I said, leaning forward to emphasize my words. “This is not your Earth jungle. The predators here do not hunt by rules you understand. The plants do not distinguish between food and threat until they have already begun digesting you. Stay. Here.”
She held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded once. “I hear you, Lor.”
Not “I’ll obey you.” Not “I promise.” Just acknowledgment that my words had reached her ears. It was the best I could hope for, given her nature.
I rose, gathering my minimal gear—a blade, water purifier, comm unit that likely wouldn’t function in this atmospheric soup. “I will return before nightfall.”
She tilted her head, looking up at me with those dark, knowing eyes. “Be careful out there, Furball.”
The nickname should have irritated me. Instead, it warmed something in my chest, a place that had been cold for longer than I cared to remember.
“Always,” I replied.
As I descended from the shelter, I caught Phil’s subtle movement—extending a tendril toward me in what I’d come to recognize as its version of private communication.
We will watch her,came the impression.But she is stubborn. Like you.
I suppressed a snort. The vine wasn’t wrong. Miri and I were well matched in our determination, our willfulness. It was part of what made us kassari—complementary forces, equally powerful, equally necessary.
I cast one last glance up at the shelter, where Miri sat watching me, her expression unreadable. The bond between us pulsed with unspoken things—desire, frustration, a growing connection neither of us had asked for but neither could deny.
I would protect her. I would return her to her world, her life.
Even if it tore me apart to do it.
7 /MIRI
Okay,in hindsight, following a sentient vine deeper into a literal alien jungle wasn’t my brightest idea. Even if the vine *was* named Phil and had excellent directional instincts. But after Lor stalked off to do his Legion Reaper patrol thing, the walls of our little treehouse shelter started closing in on me. I needed air. Space. Adventure. And Phil—bless his leafy little heart—seemed more than happy to provide it.
To be fair, I was trying to be proactive. Lor had gone on his rounds, doing his usual stalking-through-the-underbrush thing, all big muscles and smoldering cat-guy menace. That tail of his swishing behind him like a metronome of repressed feelings. He’d given me that look—the one that said “stay put or I’ll growl disapprovingly at you for at least three seconds”—before disappearing into the foliage.
