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The admission hangs in the air. His protective instincts, I am learning, are a physical force, a constant, low-level hum in the empathic field the bond has opened between us. When he is agitated about my safety, his control over his shifting becomes... erratic. I've seen his claws extend involuntarily when he grips a utensil too tightly. Seen the golden glow of his beast bleed into his eyes when a heated argument erupts outside the dwelling walls.

The heart-bond's effects appear to be symbiotic,I log mentally.His proximity stabilizes my adaptation to the Xylosian atmosphere. My presence, however, seems to destabilize his control over his own physiology. An interesting paradox.

“You should eat,” I say, pushing a bowl of stewed meat towards him. “You're losing weight.”

He looks at the bowl, then at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You noticed.”

“I'm a scientist, Jaro. I notice everything.”Especially you.

The forced proximity of our cohabitation is an experiment I am not equipped for. The bond is intensifying. The dreams started a week ago.

They are always the same.

I am running. Not as myself, but as something else. Something powerful, four-legged, with muscles that bunch and release with exhilarating speed. I feel the wind in my fur, the cool earth beneath my paws. I am his beast. I am running alongside him, through a moonlit forest that is both alien and achingly familiar. There is no fear, only a profound sense of freedom and belonging. I wake up with my heart pounding, the phantom sensation of his presence a lingering warmth in the room.

And then there are the echoes. Faint, unpredictable whispers of his emotions brushing against my own. I'll be documenting fungal samples on my datapad, and a sudden wave of visceral frustration will wash over me, so strong it makes my hands shake. I know it's not mine. It's his, from a council dispute clear across the settlement. Later, I'll be analyzing the complex weaving of my new Xylosian tunic, and a surge of fierce, feral protectiveness will make my own chest ache. It is an empathic bleed, a cross-contamination of consciousness that defies every known biological law.

The bond is not merely physiological,I record.It appears to be creating a low-level tele-empathic link. The implications are... staggering. And terrifying.

Jaro feels it too. I can see it in the way he looks at me sometimes, a dawning confusion in his eyes. He'll stop mid-sentence, his head tilted as if listening to something I haven't said. He'll anticipate my need for a drink of water before my throat even feels dry. He doesn't understand it any more than I do, but he accepts it with the same primal certainty with which he accepted the bond itself.

The political pressure, however, is something I understand all too well. It escalates daily. Vex and his supporters are relentless. The whispers in the settlement grow louder, more hostile.

“They say you are a bad omen,” Kyra tells me one afternoon, her face grim. “Vex spreads rumors that the crops are failing because of your 'alien influence.' He says the predators are growing bolder.”

“That's scientifically absurd,” I counter, my voice sharp. “Correlation does not imply causation.”

“Our people do not always listen to science,” Kyra replies softly. “They listen to fear. And Vex is very good at selling fear.”

I start to hear the arguments myself, late at night, when the settlement is quiet. Raised voices from the pathways outside. Jaro's deep, angry rumble, and the sharp, cutting tones of his rivals.

[...unfit to lead!] my translator buzzes. [...his mind is not his own!] [...she will be the death of us all!]

The walls of Jaro's dwelling, which once felt like a sanctuary, now feel like the epicenter of a brewing civil war. Warriors loyal to Jaro have taken to patrolling the perimeter of his home, their stances a silent challenge to Vex's faction. The tension is a palpable thing, a static charge in the air. I am the lightning rod.

The breaking point comes on a day when the twin suns beat down relentlessly, making the air thick and heavy. Kyra rushes into the dwelling, her usual calm demeanor shattered. Her eyes are wide with an urgency that makes my own blood run cold.

“What is it? What's happened?” I ask, rising to my feet.

“The elders,” she says, her voice a strained whisper. “They have been swayed by Vex. They... they are considering invoking theKresh-Vala.”

My translator offers no equivalent. “The what? Kyra, what are you talking about?”

She takes my hands, her own are trembling. “It is an ancient ritual. A testing. It is meant to prove the strength and purity of someone who wishes to join the tribe. Or... to expose a weakness. An impurity.”

A cold dread snakes its way down my spine. “A testing ritual for me?”

Kyra nods, her face pale. “They will make you walk the Path of Thorns. They will make you drink the Sap of Truth. They will test your body and your spirit. They believe if you are worthy of the heart-bond, you will survive. If you are a contamination...”

She doesn't need to finish the sentence. I see the answer in her terrified eyes.

“It is a death sentence, Kendra,” she says, her voice cracking. “The ritual has not been performed in centuries. Not since the last outsider tried to join our tribe. He did not survive.”

Chapter 12: POISONED

Ifeel a familiar restlessness creeping in, a nervous energy that has no outlet in the confines of Jaro's dwelling. I've cataloged every carving on the walls. I've analyzed the structural integrity of the woven plant-matter that serves as a door. I've even tried to create a rudimentary star chart based on my limited view of the night sky.

It's not enough. I'm a scientist without a lab, a botanist without a field. My mind needs a problem to solve, or it will start to cannibalize itself with worry over my confinement, over Jaro, over theKresh-Vala.