Page 92 of Tharn's Hunt
Justine snorts. “Lies. I was very patient.”
More chatter ensures. Through it all, Tharn doesn’t let go.
Not when Mikaela glares up at him, sizing up the alien who carried me home.
Not when Erika accidentally elbows him while reaching for me.
Not even when Pam—bless her—tries to peel me from his arms like he’s a particularly stubborn backpack.
“He’s not letting go, is he?” Mikaela mutters, eyeing Tharn’s claws where they cradle my thighs.
I shake my head, my cheek brushing Tharn’s chest.
“He’s the one who found you?"
I nod, my hand instinctively moving to rest on Tharn's arm. "This is Tharn. He saved my life. More than once."
Mikaela's gaze sharpens, assessing the massive alien with undisguised skepticism. "You okay?" she whispers. "Because I didn't trust this guy to find and keep you safe. No offense."
I feel a surge of protectiveness that surprises me with its intensity. "He almost died pulling me out of the desert," I almost snap. "And again today, when a sand serpent attacked us. I'm here because of him."
Oh…why…why did I respond like that? That isn’t me at all.
But something in my tone registers, because Mikaela's eyebrows rise slightly, her gaze flickering between me and Tharn with new speculation. Her lips press into a thin line, but she nods. "Good. But know that if he didn’t bring you back, I'd have kicked his ass. Alien or not."
I don't bother pointing out that she's about half Tharn's size. Somehow, I think she'd still find a way. Instead, my heart warms. Mikaela cares.
The chaos swirls around us, a blur of familiar faces and happy, crying voices. But my focus narrows on my sister. Rok has set her down gently on a stone bench, and she’s looking atme, really looking at me, a million unspoken questions in her eyes.
I wiggle one hand free from Tharn's unyielding grip. I fumble inside my bra, my fingers closing around the two small, hard shapes I’ve kept safe.
"Jus," I say, my voice thick. "I think... these belong to you."
I hold out the small butterfly earrings. They glint in the cavern's dim light, two tiny, impossible pieces of home.
The chatter around us fades into a dull roar. Justine’s breath hitches. Tears well in her eyes, spilling over to trace paths through the grime on her cheeks. "You found it," she chokes out. "My god, Jacqui, you found the other one."
"I did," I say, my own tears starting to fall freely now.
Her trembling fingers take the earrings from my palm. She closes her hand around them, holding them tight, her gaze still locked with mine.
"Our mother's earrings," she sobs. "They're together again."
I reach out, my hand covering hers. "We're together again," I correct softly.
A watery, brilliant smile breaks through her tears. "Yeah," she says. "We are."
It’s only then, as the knot of fear I've carried for weeks finally unravels, that I notice something else in my sister's eyes. A new strength. A deep, settled peace I haven't seen in her since before our world fell apart. She’s not just a survivor. She’s… happy.
Before she can say more, we're engulfed by more women, their voices a blur of questions and exclamations. Some approach, gripping me in their arms. I hug them back, wordless, tears gathering in my eyes.
They all look different from what I remember. Thinner, tanner, their clothes showing signs of hard wear and creative repairs. But they're alive, and the sight of them fills me with a joy so intense it's almost painful.
We’re here. Alive.
Tharn brought me home. His home.
As I look around the massive clan cave, I'm struck by how orderly everything is. Stone platforms line the walls, which I assume are sleeping places. Various implements—tools, weapons, and containers made from unfamiliar materials—hang from pegs driven into the rock. A fire pit burns in the center, the smoke rising through a natural chimney in the ceiling.
