Page 73 of Tharn's Hunt
She knows. She senses something is wrong, though she cannot know what. My female is no fool.
My female. The phrase echoes in my mind, both right and wrong at once. She is mine in the way of the dust. But she has not chosen me. Has not accepted what grows between us.
May never accept it.
The thought brings a fresh wave of pain, this one having nothing to do with the law of the dust and everything to do with the tightness in my chest when I think of her leaving.
I push the thought away, focusing instead on placing one foot in front of the other. On scanning the horizon for threats. On being the hunter I was born to be.
I am a hunter. I endure.
Even as I break apart.
Chapter 21
MY MOUTH IS FOR BITING, NOT FOR WORDS
THARN
By the middle of the sol, the shelter Rok promised comes into view—a small cave set into the side of a tall rock formation. It is not very deep, but it will provide shade from Ain's harshest light.
"We rest here," Rok announces, already moving to secure the area.
I remain on alert, scanning our surroundings one final time before following the others into the shade. I can tell the relief from Ain's direct light is immediate, the cooler air of the cave soothing against Jah-kee’s overheated skin.
She sinks down against the rear wall, exhaling softly. She looks tired but not exhausted, her color good despite the exertion of the morning's travel. She is stronger than I feared, adapting to the harsh conditions of the dust with surprising resilience.
Pride swells in my chest, momentarily overshadowing the pain. She is impressive, my Jah-kee. Strong in ways that have nothing to do with physical might.
The females share a waterskin, speaking softly in their strange language. I catch Jah-kee glancing at me occasionally, her expression unreadable. The flickering impressions from her mind brush against mine again. Fractured images, fleeting sensations. A strange heat. A longing for... something.
Rok settles beside me at the cave entrance, his projections pitched low and private. "How bad?"
I don't pretend to misunderstand. "Manageable."
He makes a sound that clearly conveys his disbelief. "It does not look manageable, brother. You move like one wounded, though you hide it well."
I say nothing, my gaze fixed on the horizon where heat waves distort the view. Of course, Rok can tell. He is our best scout after all. He sees things others would not.
"You must tell her," Rok continues after a moment. "She should know what happens between you."
"And frighten her further?" I project sharply. "Make her feel responsible for pain she did not ask to cause?"
"She is stronger than you think," Rok argues.
Before I can respond, Jus-teen approaches, settling cross-legged beside Rok. Her expression is serious, her gaze flickering between us with suspicion.
"What are you two talking about?" she projects into the mindspace.
"Nothing of importance," I answer quickly.
Jus-teen's eyes narrow. "Right. That's why you both look like you're planning a funeral." She turns to Rok. "He's getting worse, isn't he?"
Rok hesitates, his gaze meeting mine briefly before he nods. "Yes."
"Rok." The thought is like a growl, a low warning.
"She knows, brother," Rok projects, unmoved by my displeasure. "She has seen this before."
