Page 9 of Stars in Umbra
Later, when the light dimmed and the barn shifted into the quiet of nightfall, and he drifted in and out of sleep, she returned.
He opened one drowsy eye and jerked a chin to acknowledge her.
She had more food, this time a generous beef pie.
Its flaky pastry and tender pieces of meat in a sauce that was spiced with such a delicate hand, it had him groaning as he ate.
She’d also brought a carafe of refreshing watermelon juice, which he scoffed down.
After muttering his thanks, slumber called once more, and as soon as he eased back down, she curled up beside him, her breath steady, her lashes fluttering against her cheek.
They lay on the hay bed, a makeshift mattress of straw and old blankets, staring at each other for a long time, their eyes locked in the soft, dusty light of the barn.
It was more than just a look; it was a conversation without words, a silent sharing of a thousand unspoken feelings.
In that moment, the world outside, with its secrets and dangers, faded into a distant hum.
All that existed was the space between them, thick with an emotion so raw and powerful it felt like a physical weight on his chest.
It took away any heartache he’d ever had, and at the same time, it was a terrifying vulnerability, a surrender he hadn’t known he was capable of.
It scared him more than any of his tragic experiences ever could.
Damn, but how it made him feel righteous and seen.
In time, she fell asleep, and he remained staring at her.
This barn, the mares and stallions, the tranquility,her essence, was the most at peace he’d ever experienced in his wretched life.
It was then that he realized he didn’t want to move on.
He wanted to stay here, with her.
Damn, she was a beauty, but with a groan, he turned away before he threw his arms around her.
Regardless, he had more severe problems to deal with.
He tried to close his eyes, but seconds later, the pulses returned.
PHASE ONE: YOU ARE LATE.
DELAY DETECTED.
RE-CALIBRATING ROUTE, MINIMIZE CONTACT, AVOID PURSUIT.
LEAVE. NOW.
His jaw clenched.
He knifed up, and this time, his limbs let him.
Moving with as much care as possible, he shifted and rose from the hay.
The girl didn’t stir.
The horses tracked him, silent sentinels in the dark.
He opened the rustic comm tab and, using its digital pen, scrawled a note in uneven handwriting:
