She's quiet for a long moment. Then, “I exist on Earth. Here I survive.”
“Is that enough? Survival?”
“It's more than I had before.”
We stay joined through the night. Sometimes sleeping. Sometimes she needs movement and I provide it, slow and deep, keeping her grounded. By dawn, the desperation has faded to manageable need.
The blue-green male is gone when we emerge. Crawled away or collected by others. Doesn't matter. Vek's body needs handling, so we burn it as the sun rises. The smoke carries warning to any other young hunters with stupid ideas.
“What happens now?” Mara asks, watching the pyre.
“Now we live. Until you choose otherwise.”
“And if I choose the portal?”
“Then I'll have nine days of memories.”
“That's all?”
“That's everything.”
She takes my hand, first time she's initiated such contact. Her fingers are small against my claws but strong. There's still blood under her nails.
“Teach me more,” she says. “About survival.”
“You already know everything necessary.”
“Then teach me about living. Here. With you.”
So I do. For the next days, I show her things beyond survival. How to read weather patterns in the cloud formations. Where to find water even in dead zones. Which creatures are safe toapproach, which to avoid. How to prepare for the violent storms that will come with season change.
She learns it all with the same focus she brought to violence. Like she's planning for a future. Like she might stay.
But the portal countdown continues.
Ten days become nine. Nine become eight.
And still, she doesn't speak of choosing.
Maybe that's answer enough.
Or maybe she's waiting for something I haven't given her yet.
The bond bite mark on her throat remains unmarked. Her choice. Always her choice.
Even if waiting might lose her.
Even if the portal might take her.
Her choice.
That's what separates claiming from owning.
She claimed her freedom with blood and cleverness.
Now she has to choose what to do with it.
MARA
