Page 56 of Katya and the Young God

“Do you have any names?” Katya shoots back, and by the look on his face, he doesn’t. “There are plenty of names, all of them mean different things.”

“What about bones? Any mean bones?” She asks, a bit too eagerly.

“Not that I know of?”

“Not many people are named after bones,” Pieter says, his eyes on the ceiling as well, before nodding at Katya to go. “But some names can mean death, or stones.”

Katya takes a moment, keeping her gun on her hip and obvious for the others, and walks across the cavern, with the crystals overhead, but none come down on her.

Feketer immediately pulls her aside, and her hand floats down to rest on the butt of her gun the moment he does. “You can’t really be working with him,” he whispers, crowding her a bit too close, blocking her view of Pieter walking the girl across, her hand firmly in his. “Just think about what he’d do with the power like that.”

“She’s a kid, Feketer,” Katya says, not backing away, not leaning away, not letting him intimidate her. “I’m working with whatever group doesn’t threaten to kill her.” She catches a glimpse of the two of them walking across the room, and the girl’s eyes are trained on the crystals above with a fascination that doesn’t quite seem real. Like this is the best day she’s ever had, that the crystals are beyond neat.

Feketer doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but it’s a near deal. “And you really think it’s okay to unleash a creature who can kill with a touch onto the world?”

Behind him, Pieter locks eyes with her, as he has to tug the girl across, she’s so fascinated with the ceiling. Like he’s trying to say something, trying to tell her something, trying to warn her.

“I don’t think it’s okay to kill a child,” she says again, before the ground shifts beneath them. She has a split second to see Pieter grab the child into his arms, before —

Feketer grips her shoulder, swinging her deeper into the pathway, as their knees buckle, as dust rains down, small stones and pebbles tumble to the ground, and —

There’s a roar, a cacophony of stones against stones, and she hits the ground, hard, jolting her shoulder, coughing.

The caver screams, high pitched and thin.

As abruptly as it starts, all shaking stops. Ceases, like it never happened, like it isn’t something that would kick off a chain reaction of movement and earthquakes and instability.

Her shoulder screaming, she pushes Feketer off from where he fell half on top of her, pushing herself up, coughing and choking in the thick dust.

For a split second, she sees nothing, nothing but dust and grime everywhere. She’s coated in a thin white dust, Feketer’s coated, the huddled form of the caver is, until —

One of the lumps of stone, one of the rocks near the entrance, moves. A hand, gloved, reaching.

Katya stumbles towards it, and the little girl raises her head, her black hair covered in the same fine white dust, her eyes wide.

Katya grabs her, hauls her up to her feet, but besides the dust, besides a few nicks and scratches, she’s unharmed.

She shakes in Katya’s arms, before pulling Katya into a tight hug, and Katya tenses for a moment, her shoulder like a knife, before carefully hugging her back.

“Okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she says, her eyes falling on the stones behind the child, her heart in her throat. “That was scary, but you’re okay, you’re fine.”

The girl cranes her neck, and if she was a normal child and if it wouldn’t kill Katya immediately, Katya would press a kiss to her forehead in reassurance. “Pieter’s still in there,” she says, and her voice is small, rough, like she inhaled all the dust. “He’s okay though. Only a little blood.”

“That’s good, that’s terrifying, but good,” Katya makes a move to go to the pile of crystals, but the child grips her too tight, still shaking. “We should help him, we need to —"

She shakes her head, quick.

“He’s okay, he’s not hurt,” she says, and she’s gripping Katya so tight, it’s like she thinks Katya is the one possibly buried under the pile of jagged stones. “You need to stay here, you need to be here, okay?”

Hand sweating in her gloves and the sweat mixing with the fine layer of dust that’s everywhere, Katya pats the top of the child’s head in what she hopes is a soothing motion. “I’m here, don’t worry, you don’t need to be afraid.”

The child squeezes her back, and Katya’s eyes search through the rubble, for something, anything, that could possibly be the shape of the Demigod, but it’s all harsh stone and dust.

“What happened?” The little girl says, from where she still remains holding onto Katya’s middle. “It was fine, it was fine, then everything came down.”

Katya doesn’t know how to answer that, so she doesn’t.

The little girl pulls away, looking quick behind Katya, before —

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