Page 19 of Pets in Space 10

The hum of the outboard motor vibrated through Landry’s bones as he powered the boat along the meandering channel.

Cypress trees lined either side, their roots tangled in the water like the fingers of old gods holding onto a land that refused to die.

The sun dipped low behind the canopy, slanting golden rays across the bayou’s surface, making the moss-draped branches shimmer like threads of silver lace.

It was beautiful.

It should have brought him peace.

Instead, it felt hollow.

The boat sliced cleanly through the water, leaving behind a foamy wake that rippled against the reeds and sent turtles plopping into the shadows.

Egrets lifted on slow, elegant wings, startled from their perches.

A bullfrog bellowed somewhere deeper in the marsh, joined by the trill of crickets and the occasional gator grunt echoing from the shoreline.

The swamp was alive again, nature already stitching closed the wounds left by the final battle. Burned thickets were greening at the edges. Polluted pools, once choked with Ceto’s corruption, were now blooming with lily pads and darting minnows. Life, ever stubborn, was returning.

But for Landry, the magic was gone.

The serenity he’d always found in the bayou — its hum of life, its ancient rhythms — had dulled into something distant. Muted.

Like someone had stolen the melody and left only the ghost of an echo.

The only thing keeping him going was knowing she was alive.

His sweet Harmonia.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel as her name drifted through his thoughts like a ghost.

He still saw her every time he closed his eyes. Heard her laughter on the wind. Felt the press of her fingers against his heart like a lingering brand.

She was safe. That had to be enough.

But it wasn’t.

Up at the bow, Lilypad lay sprawled across a pile of sun-warmed rope, her scales glistening like gemstones. Pug was curled beside her, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he flicked his tail over the edge of the boat, tapping the spray of water in lazy rhythm.

They’d become his shadows, the two of them. Ever since Harmonia was taken back to her world, they hadn’t left his side. Where he went, they went — whether that meant checking the recovering inlets, restabilizing water monitors, or just sitting in silence on the dock, watching the stars.

He was grateful. They made the ache bearable.

Most days.

A flash of movement on his cabin’s back deck as he rounded the bend caught his eye. Hog stood with his arms folded, a familiar worried frown tugging at his face. His new aluminum boat bobbed beside the dock, shiny and clean — still carrying the scent of fresh varnish and free of swamp muck.

Lilypad jerked upright, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Her tail thumped against the boat’s deck as she elbowed Pug.

Hog raised both arms, a bag of barbecue potato chips in each hand.

Landry let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he eased back on the throttle.

The boat drifted into the clearing beside the dock, the motor burbling before he killed it.

Spray clung to his face and hair, and he ran a hand over his unshaved jaw, the sting of wind and sun a welcome distraction from the dull throb in his chest.

“You’re gonna spoil ‘em,” he muttered as he reached for the rope to tie off.

Hog grinned, tossing the bags of chips like a quarterback. Lilypad and Pug leapt from the boat before it had even settled, scrambling onto the dock with gleeful chortles. They caught the bags between eager claws.

“Nah,” Hog replied, watching them tear into the treats. “I’m just keepin’ morale high. Besides, you try telling her no.”

Landry grunted, stepping onto the dock. “You’re gonna give ‘em withdrawal when they go back to whatever magical pocket realm they came from.”

Hog shot him a sideways glance. “Maybe. Or maybe someone’ll bring them back now and then. Stranger things have happened.”

Landry didn’t answer. The breeze kicked up, carrying with it the scent of peat, water lilies, and sun-baked wood. The Spanish moss swayed overhead like the bayou itself was exhaling.

It should have felt like home.

Instead, it felt like a memory.

And the part of his soul that had once danced in harmony with this wild, living place?

It was still with her.

Wherever she was.

Landry pushed the screen door open and let it swing wide, the familiar creak echoing through the stillness. The faint scent of fried catfish and cypress smoke still clung to the wood, but it was overpowered now by something more intangible — absence.

Lilypad and Pug darted around his boots before bounding off toward his bed, their tails swishing. The screen slapped once, then again, before settling with a metallic click.

“Don’t get crumbs in my bed,” he warned.

He walked across the worn floorboards toward the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound.

Hog opened the door behind him and waited.

Landry pulled the fridge open and grabbed two beers. They clinked as he handed one off to Hog. With a snap and hiss, he popped the cap and took a long swig, the cold bite of it sliding down his throat and settling like stone in his gut.

“Come on,” he said quietly, motioning with his chin. “Let’s sit outside.”

Inside hurt too much.

The table still wore the brightly patterned cloth Harmonia had magicked into being, its cheerful yellows and oranges still vibrant. A line of orchids stared back at him from the windowsill — still blooming. Still beautiful. Like her.

And the bed?

He hadn’t stepped foot in it since she left.

The empty bed was a knife he didn’t have the strength to pull from his heart. Instead, he had set up a hammock outside on the front deck and stared at the night sky until exhaustion gave him a measure of peace.

He pushed open the screen door, letting it bang softly behind him as he stepped out onto the back deck. The breeze caught his shirt, warm and earthy.

Hog followed and settled into the rocking chair beside him. The old wood creaked beneath his weight as he cracked open his beer.

Neither spoke for a long while.

A trio of blue herons drifted down from the sky, their wings like silk sheets in the breeze. They landed across the channel, picking their way through the shallows with elegant, high-stepping grace.

Landry watched them, his fingers absently running along the sweating bottle in his hand.

“You gonna just keep sittin’ here forever?” Hog asked, voice low and not unkind.

Landry didn’t look away from the birds. “Sittin’s all I got left.”

Hog scratched at his jaw, the bottle cradled between his knees. “What’re you gonna do?”

“About what?”

Hog glanced at him. “Harmonia. Gettin’ her back. Or goin’ after her.”

A bitter laugh tore from Landry’s chest — short, sharp, and hollow. “Yeah? How exactly am I supposed to do that, Hog? Build a raft and ride it through a magic portal? I don’t have a damn spellbook or a wand tucked up my sleeve.”

His voice cracked, and he drank again to swallow down the ache.

“I’ve barely eaten,” he admitted, eyes fixed on the slow-drifting current.

“Sleep’s not much better. Every time I close my eyes, I see her — lying there in my arms, fading right in front of me.

Skin like glass. Eyes fluttering closed.

I could feel her slipping away… and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. ”

Hog didn’t say anything. He just rocked slowly, the chair groaning beneath him.

“I’d have traded places with her,” Landry muttered. “When Arastan and Eirene showed up, I would’ve given my life if it meant saving her. No hesitation.”

Pug padded silently onto the deck and curled at Landry’s feet, laying his chin on his boot. Lilypad climbed into the chair beside Hog and stretched, tail coiled delicately as she eyed the last crumbs of salt on his jeans.

“She misses her too,” Hog said quietly. “They both do.”

“I know.” Landry’s voice dropped. “They’re the only reason I haven’t gone completely under.”

Hog took a final pull from his beer, then tipped the bottle upside down, watching the last drop land on the planks.

“The villagers… they’re startin’ to settle again,” he said. “Things are returning to normal. Or close enough. Betty packed up and moved to Florida. Wants to be near their boy. Said she couldn’t stand the silence in the house anymore.”

Landry nodded, his throat too tight to answer.

“Tyson adopted Blue.”

That made Landry look at him, startled. “She left him?”

“Yeah,” Hog added with a faint smile. “Betty said a condo life wouldn’t suit him. Too many rugs and not enough dirt. Blue’s already learned how to hop in the truck bed like a pro.”

Landry smiled faintly, his lips twitching just enough to count. “Good. Jack would’ve wanted that.”

“Yeah,” Hog murmured. “He would’ve.”

The silence returned, but this time it felt heavier. More final.

Hog stood and stretched. Lilypad chirped in protest but slid to the deck with a flip of her tail. Hog walked to the bin beside the door and lobbed the empty bottle into it with a soft clink.

“Gotta meet Pop and Tyson at the diner,” he said. “Fried oysters tonight.”

Landry nodded. “Tell them I said hey.”

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Nah,” Landry said, patting Pug’s head. “I’m good.”

Hog hesitated at the edge of the deck, his hand on the rail. “You’re not. But I get it.”

Landry didn’t reply.

“I’ll be by tomorrow,” Hog added, stepping down to his new boat. “You’ll either be here… or gone lookin’.”

The boat engine grumbled to life, and Hog gave him one last look before easing away from the dock.

Landry stayed on the deck long after the sound faded. Lilypad curled beside his chair. Pug sighed at his feet.

Above them, stars began to prick the darkening sky, and somewhere deep in the swamp, a barred owl called.

But Harmonia’s absence filled the air like thunder before the storm.

And all Landry could do was sit in the quiet and pray that somehow — some way — he’d find her again.