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Why did that twist her insides further?

“It’s fine, Nathair.” She had meant what she said: she trusted him. Her bruise was an accident, and she wouldn’t judge him for it.

When she leaned into his palm, trying to show him it was okay and all was forgiven, a strangled whimper choked out of him. He twisted, walked on his hands as he headed for the freshwater lake, and dived. Liquid splashed in an arc as his tail flopped in, causing droplets to crash near her bare feet.

The surface rippled, seeming to vibrate, as bubbles popped. By the muted sound she could faintly hear, she thought he may have roared. Tiny waves formed near the middle.

She had assumed he intended to release whatever emotions had overcome him for a long while, but he flung out minutes later.

Orbs glowing with the depth of his guilt, Nathair flopped back out of the water. He didn’t return to her, instead moving over to the entrance of the cave like the night before, as though he wanted to block it. He coiled himself up like a snake, as if hiding from her, the world, and how he felt.

By the lack of his glowing orbs, she knew he wasn’t watching her. He must have completely hidden himself under the wraps of his tail.

He thought to grab the fish, the shell, the chest, even my shoes.He apologised, rather than shrugging and blaming something he couldn’t control. He’d healed her and made amends by communicating the only way he could.

Nathair had proven just how much he didn’t want to hurt her and cared for her wellbeing and feelings.

And that he was exceptionally tender-hearted.

With her spare clothing in one hand, and a lit flame lantern in the other, Linh wondered how she was supposed to get past Nathair.

Throughout the course of last night, the Duskwalker hadn’t moved from his spot. It’d been difficult to see him in the dark, and her concern for him had grown when she heard small, distressing noises echoing off the stone walls.

Figuring he wanted to be alone, she’d distracted herself.

She investigated the iron lantern, then noted the candles were a little worse for wear. The ones at the bottom of the box were almost unusable, like the chest they’d been in slowly leaked once dragged from the ship.

The first candle she burned constantly sputtered, threatening to go out before it did finally die. She slowly heated the ones that were useable over the fire to try and remove any water or air pockets that had formed, hopefully preventing that from happening in the future.

Then she made sure she had all the supplies she’d need to get the torches going. The cloth in the chest was a little stained andcrusty from sea salt but should still burn.

Whatever burning oil was used smelt pungent and gross, but two of the four containers had managed to not leak.

She put them to the side, wanting to utilise them at a better time.

Linh also washed the fish of sand, then prepped and cooked it. The wine was bitter, but gave enough flavour to make eating bearable. She wasn’t used to consuming this much fish, so her dinner made her a little queasy.

Sleep had fallen over her with great difficulty, especially when her lazy eyes had kept drifting to where she knew Nathair to be. Only when the hour had to have been late, did she finally pass out.

Linh had woken to stray streaks of sunlight, which allowed her to see that Nathair had not moved from his spot. Eventually two desires had clutched at her: to remove the smell of fish from her clothes and skin, and to go to the bathroom.

Which is why she now stood next to this snake Duskwalker’s huddle, assessing how to squeeze past without disturbing him. The sliver of a gap meant she had to press herself hard against the opening.

Once through, she turned to the left with her lantern barely lighting the way.

She removed her precious Ao Dai garment her grandmother – on her father’s side – had made for her twenty-first birthday, and dropped it under the subtle waterfall to soak it. She also removed her pants, underwear, and the undershirt she wore as a bra.

She went to the toilet, hating how she had to do that over some strange hole. She tried not to think about it, or the weird paranoia that a Demon hand might shove its way through with swiping claws.

Linh sat down in the sprinkle of water to scrub at her clothing with soap before washing her skin. She also untwisted her braids so she could rinse them of grime, and used a bone comb she’d brought with her from when she’d originally been taken.

Once she was done, she placed her washed clothing over a jutting section of rock to dry. She donned a new undershirt and underwear, but paused at the knee-length dress in her hands.

I haven’t worn this in months.

If she hadn’t been naked, Bragg made her wear simple, plain dresses – for the cruellest of reasons. She’d then forced herself to wear his pants, wanting a barrier even if it was a pointless one.

But this dress... It had been her mother’s. It’d been gifted to her, and she’d packed it because she just wanted to bring her family with her in the wake of her upcoming loss.