Page 35 of Koha'vek
Even if the world beyond these woods still didn’t want to see us, we had each other, and Raven to watch our backs and protect the colony, too.
And somehow, that truth made it easier to breathe.
Koha’vek
A few days later, after a call to let Raven know, we took my Mesaarkan flyer to visit the colony. It was much too long a journey for us to go by horseback, even if we had two horses. We only stayed one night and returned the following evening to care for Ava’s horse, Dotty.
Our visit to the colony had gone well—better than I expected, honestly. Veklan welcomed us. The human females welcomed Ava. She spent time getting acquainted and sharing their stories while I reconnected with some of the males I hadn’t seen in years.
Some deserted with the females they rescued from captivity, while others found their mates by chance. Together, they built a tight-knit community that thrived in their isolation.
By the time we left, someone had handed Ava a woven satchel of herbs and dried fruit. “For winter,” she said. “For strength.” It felt like a gesture meant for family, and we relished it.
Now, back in our clearing, Ava and I carried firewood from the pile by the barn to stack on one end of the porch. The air smelled of cold pine and distant snow, and the wind carried a hush that suggested the world was settling in for sleep.
We were glad to be back at the home I had rebuilt day by day. Perhaps in the spring, we’d revisit the colony, but we would not leave our home otherwise unless we were forced to.
It was more than just shelter, it wasour center, mine and Ava’s
Veklan had quietly asked if we’d consider opening our doors—if others needed rest, passage, a hiding place.
We hadn’t needed to think twice. We both said yes.
Now the cabin wasn’t just our home. It might become a safe haven for those still running from their past.
We hung a carved stone beside the door—a smooth black river rock that I had etched with an old Mesaarkan mark. It meant“fire within”.
Anyone who knew the symbol would understand that this was a safe place to rest and begin again.
When we had stacked the last of the wood, I turned to Ava, brushing a lock of windblown hair from her cheek. My hand lingered there, and she looked into my eyes.
I didn’t have to ask if she still believed in our life together. I could read it in her gaze. We believed in ourselves, and that was enough.
I brushed my tail lightly against the backs of her legs—a sign of affection she’d once found strange and now found comforting.
We stood side by side, watching the trees as a cool breeze whispered through them of the coming winter.
They hadn’t given Mesaarkans formal asylum on Earth, but it was implied becausethey allowed us to stay. We could live with that, because it meant we could continue our lives together.
We carved out our place in the quiet—and called it home.
THE END
