Page 33 of Katya and the Young God

She doesn’t know if most includes him, but she doesn’t want to ask, as they wind their way past a giant curve.

The room narrows, to a dense, carved out pathway, hewn directly into the white stone, ancient chip marks showing the old tools used to carve the tunnel.

Unable to help herself, she reaches out, touching the stone with the tips of her gloved hands.

The hum spikes in her brain, sudden and sharp, and she lets her hand fall away. Like it’s better left untouched, unsullied. Like the hum is protecting this place.

“You’re sensitive for a human,” Pieter says, low. “Most wouldn’t have that instinct.”

“Training and exposure,” she says, immediate and practiced. “Be around enough others, even the most basic of humans get a skill.”

He inclines his head, then touches the stone where her fingertips fell. He’s not wearing his gloves yet, and his eyes are pensive. Like he’s listening, waiting to hear what it has to say.

But she doesn’t ask him what he hears, feeling like it’s a hair too private.

The trail narrows, and he falls behind her, obviously not trusting her at his back.

While she’s spent a considerable amount of time with Pieter’s brother, she’s never really seen him interact with the world that much differently than a human.

However, Iakov’s spent a large part of his life blending in with crowds, on the run, hiding any part of him that’s obviously other, and Pieter...hasn’t. Before this last year, he was one of the most visible members of the community, running in direct opposition to the Organization. Not hiding what he is from anyone, flaunting power at every turn.

And now…

She glances up, up towards the ceiling of the narrow tunnel and...lining the ceiling, are human bones.

Her breath catches in her throat.

Like the most macabre ceiling molding, they’re there, imbedded neatly into the walls, leg bones. Dust and age cover them, like they’ve been there for centuries, and they stretch on the length of the tunnel.

No one else is looking up at them.

The hair raises on the back of her arms, but she swallows, still continuing walking with the group as the path slopes downwards, deeper into the mountain.

* * *

After a long steep slope,they come to a bend, a natural curving of the path, and the roof drops down, so close it’s only a few inches above Katya’s head, and she’s hardly the tallest.

The ceiling is smooth stone, hewn obviously by an easel and early tools, but it’s wider, the room spilling out sideways, giving the group more time to spread out. The walls, far away, are the same stone white, bones lining the creases at the floor and the ceiling.

Nathan, the guide, stops the group for a break and some food, and without the sun for a guide Katya’s somehow surprised that they’ve been underground for over two hours. But she takes the rest, takes the chance to sit and stretch her legs out in front of her.

Her shoulder twinges the moment she takes off the bag, and she grits her teeth as she rolls it out, unable to control the grimace on her face for a few precious seconds.

Before she can get it under control, Nathan spots it and swoops over next to her before she can help it.

“Hey, what was your name again?” He asks, and he’s so friendly and fresh faced she just wants him to go away.

“Katya,” she says, as short as she can without being outwardly rude.

“And you are a...” he trails off, looking at the group, like he expects her to be as outwardly weird as the others. “I mean, I can tell with some of the others, but we haven’t figured out you yet.” His eyes are on her shoulder, and he’s obviously gearing up to ask that question, despite it still being covered

It’s been a while since she’s been mistaken for any type of other.

“Human,” she says, trying to keep her voice from being rude and probably failing. “Just a normal, run-of-the-mill human.”

Pieter snorts, the most undignified sound she’s ever heard from a Demigod.

To his credit, Nathan just nods and smiles. “That explains why we couldn’t figure it out,” he says, friendly and open and she just wants him to go away. “Pack hurting you?”

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