“I have already been defeated.”
“Have you? Really? You don’t look defeated to me.”
I bare my teeth. “What do you know of defeat?”
Her eyes glaze over as she looks towards the darkness. “More than you can know. Haime…” She turns away, her face falling into a look of grave concern.
Haime? She said that when I could not understand her.
Then it occurs to me… The other human. The other one she was with before I turned.
Where is the other human?
But before I can ask, she faces me again, the graveness now gone. “In the time I went to collect roots, you’ve managed to rise and walk—you trapped me. If you’ve done so much in such a short time… Think of what you can do a day from now, or even two. This isn’t defeat. This is just the beginning, and beginnings are always the hardest.”
“Such wise words from such a young creature.” I cannot help being snide. She has offered wisdom I know is true, but they are words I do not want to hear.
“Wise words? Common sense. That’s all it is. Now let me help you back to the camp so we can rest—” She starts to brace under me.
“No. I will do it.” Though I do not push her away.
I could never willingly push my mate away.
“Are you sure?” she asks, hesitating.
“Collect the kindling.” I untangle my arm from hers. “I will make it back myself.”
She moves away, and I almost grab her back to me but clench my bloody hands away from her.
“I’ll meet you back there… then.”
I watch as she quietly collects the fallen roots and gathers them under her arm. She picks up her torch, which is now little more than burning embers. She stares at it for a moment before waving it before her. The light is pitiful, but she takes a cautious step away.
I grab her ankle. “Wait.”
She stops.
Pressing my hand to the wall again, I rise. It is easier this time, this new body is becoming more familiar. Once I am standing, I take a moment to steady myself before reaching for her burnt-out torch. I hate that she sees this side of me. But she cannot move around in the dark. She is human.
I will lead her back to safety.
She gives me the torch.
In silence, we head back to the campsite. It is slow going, but she remains with me the whole time, not once complaining. Not once mentioning my weakened state.
When we arrive, it is to find that, like the torch, the fire has nearly died out. Milaye makes her way towards it.
The scent of the naga fills my nose.
“Stop,” I order, stiffening. She stills, stiffening as well, glancing back at me.
“Something’s been here,” she says more than asks.
“Yes, the naga.”
“So that’s where he’s been…”
“You know it?”
“Yes. Well, not really. I found his den when I was searching for kindling. He lives down here. Though, I don’t think he means to harm us.”
I shake my head. This is vital information. “Perhaps not, or perhaps he is biding his time. Is anything lost?” I ask, nodding to the pile of supplies on the ground.
Milaye takes the torch from me and checks, kneeling. I scan our surroundings. I think I see something shift behind a rock, but it is far away and I cannot be sure…
“My shells are gone.”
“Is that all? Are they important?”
“Nothing else has been taken, and no, they’re not… Apparently he likes to collect pretty things.”
My eyes snap to hers, but she is not looking at me. Instead, she takes an oddly foamy item from a pouch and crushes it over the meager fire. It flares back to life, but doesn’t grow until she adds the new roots. Then it blazes, drenching everything in light.
I wince. I do not like light, at least not so much of it, but I do not tell her this. The more light I am in, the more darkness I crave—though the effect is slow, and I can handle it for a while.
But my human is a light bringer.
I will always crave the darkness near her. In all ways…
“You went into his den?” I bark. I dislike this far more than the light.
“I did.” She nods, sits back, blinks her eyes away from the flames, and grabs another thick leather pouch, raising it to her mouth. She gulps from it then turns, handing it to me. “It’s water. Old water at this point, but it’s something.”
Moving to her side, I take it, swallowing some down. Heaven. It’s delicious and fresh. Old is the last thing I would call it, considering I have not had water in ages.
I take another swallow and scan the area again. “Do not enter a single male’s den again,” I tell her. “You are mine now.”
Her eyes slant. But she hands me a small cloth. “I won’t.”
“Good,” I growl. “What is this?” I ask, peering at the cloth curiously. Humans are curious.
“Something to wipe the blood off your hands.”
Once again, she is taking care of me, I realize with a glower. I wipe my hands anyway, satisfied to find the wounds are small and already healing, and toss the cloth into the fire. “Now, you should rest.”
“There’s—”
“No. I sense you are tired, and unlike you, I am not openly wounded. I will watch over you while my strength rebuilds, as I should have been doing all along.” Her face hardens, but it does not last, her tiredness returning too quickly. I hand her back her water pouch. “Finish this. You need it more than I.”
“We should save it. We may not get anymore.”
“I will not have you go without!” I will force it down her throat if I have to. My frustration can only be pushed so far.
She glares at me as I meet her head-on, and we enter a battle of will. My female is stubborn and wants to be in charge, but that will not happen, not anymore.
Eventually,
