My own hands.
My own direction.
The road dipped, and I stiffened.
The buggy adjusted before I could panic, gliding over the rough place as if it wasn’t there.
“It knows the ground,” Kazan said. “It’ll avoid the worst of it.”
I nodded and kept driving.
There were a lot of things I didn’t have to do anymore. I didn’t have to ask if I could leave or explain why I wanted something. I didn’t have to measure every breath in case it annoyed someone.
I didn’t have to be small.
My vision blurred for a second, and I blinked it clear. I didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not when the road was open and Kazanwas quiet beside me, too large for the seat and too careful with me to crowd in when I needed space.
After a few minutes, my shoulders loosened. The buggy responded to every slight movement. I didn’t have to force it.
That was new too.
I glanced at Kazan. His arms had relaxed. His tail had stopped flicking. He wasn’t watching the road anymore.
He was watching me.
There was heat in his gaze, but there was something softer too. Pride, maybe. Or joy. I was still learning all the ways he looked at me.
I took one hand off the controls long enough to touch his wrist. Just a brief touch.
Then I kept driving.
Some parts of me still expected punishment for being happy. Those parts could learn.
The road curved, and I saw the turnoff.
It was barely a track, half covered by weeds, disappearing under the shadow-wood. I’d noticed it weeks ago, when Kazan had first brought me this way. I’d been too scared to ask where it went.
I didn’t need to ask now.
I turned.
Kazan looked at the road, then at me. He didn’t stop me.
The buggy left the ridge road and slipped beneath the trees. The light changed at once, turning green and dim. Branches dragged softly over the canopy. The ground beneath us was rutted and wet, but the hover-field carried us over it without trouble.
I drove until the track opened into a small hollow surrounded by trees.
No houses or voices. No one but us.
I brought the buggy to a stop and left it idling, the low hum running beneath us. My heart was beating fast now, but not from fear.
Kazan knew.
I saw it in the way his eyes darkened and the way his body went still, all that size and strength waiting on me.
I unbuckled my belt.
“You taught me to drive,” I said. “I wanted to thank you.”
