“Go on home, kid.” She set him gently on his feet. “I’ll make sure the bear doesn’t follow.”
She knew if they ran together, it would chase them.
“A-Aimee-Sensei…” He wiped at his eyes and reached for the hem of her shirt, fingers clutching. “Please don’t leave me.”
“You’ll be fine, Shinka.” She pried his fingers loose with careful hands and pivoted to face the bear, rising to her full height, staring down the creature.
“Your mom’s worried,” she added without looking back. “And the sweet cakes are almost ready.”
“S-Sweet cakes?” he squeaked.
“That’s what I said. Now, get on home. I’ll be fine.”
Behind her, she heard the first hesitant steps. Then faster. Leaves crunching, twigs breaking. He was running now. Good.
She didn’t exhale until the sound of him had faded completely. Only then did her shoulders loosen the tiniest bit.
“We good?” She looked at the bear, who answered by baring its teeth in a snarl.
So that was a no.
“I’ll make sure he stays away from your younglings,” she coaxed.
Whether or not the bear understood the words didn’t matter; she hoped the tone carried.
The animal stared at her for a long moment, massive chest rising and falling as it weighed her presence. Then, with a heavy huff, it dropped down onto all fours and turned away, lumbering back toward the cave, where the quiet mewling of its cubs echoed between the stone.
As soon as it was out of sight, a sharp laugh burst from Aimee’s lips.
“Friggin bears,” she muttered, flexing her fingers as blood rushed back into them.
And, with a careless lift of her shoulders, she looked back toward the trail that would return her to the village.
But before she took a step, her pace stalled. Licking her lips, she paused, then let a slow grin stretch across her mouth. He was at least a mile off, but if she aimed it right…
Come find me in the boulder field, snake.
She hurled the thought across the link like a dare, wrapped in heat and challenge.
A beat passed.
Then she felt it—his small start of surprise. A shift. And a heartbeat later, the deep, low chuckle that bloomed in the back of her mind like smoke curling over hot coals.
Aimee turned to look upslope, eyes scanning the jagged rise of stone, already mapping her path.
Muscles coiled. Breath stilled.
Then—
It began with a tug.
Small. Barely more than a change in gravity, like the ground had sighed beneath her feet. Aimee paused mid-step, one hand braced on a moss-slick boulder, lungs catching as the air stirred around her.
No. Not now.
The wind turned harder, whirling leaves into a spiral that danced around her ankles. Her fingers scraped against the stone. Another tug—this time stronger. Her balance tipped and her heart pounded against her ribs.
No.
