Page 31 of Katya and the Young God

She shivers, once, settling deeper into the camp chair. Logistically speaking, a Demigod somehow unable to do whatever he wants is a good thing. Especially one with such a history as Pieter, especially one that came so close to causing the death of millions of people.

But there’s something else, here, something that pushes her to speak, no matter how much she really doesn’t want to engage in any of these conversations.

“What does he have against you?” She whispers, finally, after too long of a break. “Surely you could end a minor demon without a thought.”

“You never stop looking for information, do you?” He asks, dry. “Is that something every Organization lackey does, or is that just you?”

“It’s in our handbook and everything,” she says, recognizing a deflection when she’s given one. “Page eight, paragraph five.”

It is, but he takes the joke for what it is meant, and there’s almost a smile on his face. Almost.

“There’s no reason for you to be with this group,” she continues, hugging her arms to herself. “You could be inside in a blink of your eyes, be out again before we knew any better.”

She saw him drive up, so she doesn’t think he can, for whatever reason, but she’s not going to give him that clear of insight into her mind. Let him think her stupider than she actually is, let him think she can be fooled.

His face twists, but it’s far too late into the night for her to be afraid of a facial expression anymore. “Things have changed, since we saw each other last,” he says, and even though it’s a whisper it sounds as torn out of him as a scream, and she knows when to not push anymore.

So she huddles down deeper into the camp chair, letting him fall into silence, until the only sound is the buzz of the cave, ever present at the back of her mind.

* * *

She doesn’t knowhow she slept, just that she’s awoken by rays of sunlight streaming against her face and the sound of a zipper opening on the giant tent behind her.

A few chairs away, Pieter’s fast asleep, his head leaned back at such an awkward angle that it must be painful. Stepan is stretched across his feet, his chest rising with an easy rhythm.

Her shoulder a stiff knot, she rolls it back, using the motion to turn her head to see who’s coming out of the tent, as if she can somehow pretend she didn’t just sleep out here.

It’s just Feketer, and he freezes as his eyes flicker between her and the still fast asleep Demigod, before he visibly shakes himself and steps out of the tent fully, zipping it back up behind him.

“Good morning,” she whispers at him.

He looks genuinely unnerved, as he picks his way around the camp, like he’s unsure if he’s able to approach.

Saving him the decision, Katya stands, stretching, and immediately wishes she didn’t. Her thighs all but scream at her after the hike, and her shoulder sends her warning signs, pain arcing down her back and through her midsection.

But still, she just rolls her shoulder, joining Feketer over by the cool remains of the fire from the night before, as he starts to poke at them, prop up the remaining firewood into something resembling a pile.

“Sleep well?” She asks, and is proud of how strong her voice is, how even.

“Did you sleep outside all night?” He blurts out, still a whisper.

“Not all night.” She gives him a sharp smile, all teeth—let him draw his own conclusions.

He looks over her shoulder at the still sleeping Demigod, his eyebrows raised, and she relishes in the discomfort. Let him squirm some.

“It’s six AM, people will start waking up soon,” he says, instead of any further questions. “I know the tour guides have some meal planned for us, but they’re still asleep.”

She crouches next to the fire pit with the matches, not letting him take control on this very small thing, knowing it unnerves most people. “So nice of you to get things going.”

The look he gives her is a bit wild, a bit panicked, and she doesn’t feel the least bit sorry as she shelters the match from the breeze, waiting until the kindling catches, before leaning back.

“Pixies wake naturally at sunrise,” he says, as if filling the silence, as if she didn’t know that. “There was no point in me staying in the tent.”

She looks at him, and she knows she looks mussed, still in her sleep pants and her hair a disaster, but still, she manages to intimidate him. “What time are we starting in there?” She tilts her head, the buzz of the cave gentler underneath the birdsong.

Across the fledgling campfire, Pieter wakes with a start, a full body flinch, drawing both of their attention as he blinks, eyes wild, before he spots them.

He shoots Katya a deeply confused look, one that borders on comically offended, and she shoots him the same smile that cowed Feketer.

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