Page 58 of Tharn's Hunt
My gaze snaps to his face, a snarl building in my throat before I recognize the teasing light in his eyes. Rok, amused by my discomfort. As always.
"I brought her here," I project stiffly. "I am responsible for her recovery."
"Mmm." Rok's mental hum vibrates with doubt. "And that is why your skin glows where her scent lingers? Why your dra-kir pounds when her name crosses the mindspace? Why you have not taken your eyes from her since you arrived?"
Heat floods my face. It is an unfamiliar sensation that irritates me further. "I am concerned," I insist. "The Giving Stone was waiting. She nearly died in my care."
"Nearly died while you carried her across half the territory to reach help," Rok corrects. "There is a difference, brother."
I have no response to this, so I return to watching Jah-kee. Her color is better this sol, the unnatural flush offever—as Jus-teen calls it—fading from her cheeks. Her breathing comes easier, deeper.
I know she will live. This knowledge alone should ease the tight knot of fear that has sat in my chest since her collapse. Yet tension still coils through me, making me restless, irritable.
Jus-teen rises from Jah-kee's side, wiping her hands on her strange hide coverings. Her water eyes—so much like Jah-kee's, yet lacking the same pull on my dra-kir—meet mine across the cave.
"She's stable," she projects, her mindspeak clear in the mindspace. "The fever's broken. She needs rest now, and more fluids when she wakes."
I dip my head in the way Rok has now taught me means affirmation. "You have my gratitude," I project.
Jus-teen's lips quirk in what might be amusement at how formal I sound. "I didn't do it for you, big guy. But you're welcome." She crosses to Rok's side, her small form fitting neatly against his larger one as she settles beside him. "You look like shit, by the way. When's the last time you slept?"
I blink. “…Like excrement?” My gaze flicks to Rok, seeking confirmation. But I sense no insult here. “Is this a human compliment?”
Jus-teen chokes on air. Rok’s amusement rises in the mindspace.
I nod, solemn. “Then you also look like… shit.” I gesture between them. “Very… healthy.”
Jus-teen collapses against Rok, gasping. “Oh my god. Never change.”
I tilt my head. Change what? My appearance? My scent? Before I can ask, she adds: “And for the record—no, it’s not a compliment. Just a human phrase that means you don’t look so well.”
"I am not tired," I lie.
Her water eyes set on me with disbelief.
"Riiiight," Jus-teen projects, stretching out the word unnaturally. "That's why you're swaying on your feet. Very convincing."
The casual way she addresses me unsettles my instincts. She speaks as if we’ve shared a hearth for many cycles, not mere sols. Yet when Jah-kee’s clumsy thoughts brushed my mind, it felt… different.
Natural.
Everything about these females defies understanding.
"You should rest, brother," Rok adds, his mental voice gentler. "Jah-kee will not wake for some time. Her body heals."
I resist, unwilling to close my eyes even for a moment. Not while Jah-kee remains vulnerable.
"I will watch," I insist, settling more firmly against the wall. "In case she wakes."
Jus-teen and Rok exchange a look, and I wonder if they are having some private conversation.
"Suit yourself," Jus-teen finally says, turning back to me with a shrug. "But if you face-plant on the cave floor, I'm not picking you up."
I do not know this "face-plant." Is it a plant with a face? A hunter plant that bites?
My gaze sweeps the cave floor. My claws flex. If this face-plant is a threat to Jah-kee, I will tear it from the stone.
“What is this face-plant?” My thought echoes sharply with suspicion. “A predator?”
