Page 20 of Snared (The Legion: Savage Lands Sector #8)

The jungle murmurs to me in a language older than stars, the air thick with damp heat and layered scent.

I can taste her on the breeze—Miri. Bright, alive, sun-warmed and inquisitive.

My mate. Mine. The vines part before me, recognizing my authority while simultaneously conveying their growing affection for the human female who has captured not just my heart, but the ecosystem’s curiosity as well.

They guide me back toward our shelter with gentle urgency, suggesting through subtle neural impressions that something has changed.

Something important. Something about the fugitive.

My pace quickens, boots silent against the moss-covered ground.

The jungle shifts around me, its massive consciousness rippling with information it wants to share.

I extend my awareness, letting the neural connection flow both ways, but the impressions I receive are fragmented, confused.

The ecosystem itself seems uncertain, troubled by something it cannot fully comprehend.

Ahead, our shelter nestles between ancient trunks, the living architecture I’ve woven becoming more elaborate with each passing day.

My claws itch to expand it further, to build something permanent, worthy of my kassari.

The primal part of me refuses to acknowledge that her time here is temporary, that soon she will return to her world of concrete and steel.

When I return to our shelter, she is crouched beside one of the snare vines, speaking softly, brows drawn in concentration.

I don’t interrupt—there is reverence in her curiosity, a subtle grace in how she treats the wild around us.

The jungle has taken to her fully, and she.

..she is blooming in return. Her skin has absorbed the essence of this place, taking on a subtle glow that matches the bioluminescent flora surrounding her.

Her movements have become more fluid, more attuned to the rhythms of the ecosystem.

Her eyes light up when she sees me, that smile breaking across her face like sunrise. Something deep inside my chest uncoils at the sight. She is safe. She is here. She is mine.

“You won’t believe this,” she says, brushing hair from her flushed face. “Phil showed me something. Like...tunnels. A root system that’s not just roots. Caverns. Chambers.”

My body goes still, every sense suddenly hyper-focused on her words.

The jungle has shown her the underworld.

No Rodinian has ever been granted that level of communion, not even in old legends.

Not even I, after months of deepening symbiosis with the ecosystem, have been permitted to see those sacred depths.

“The fugitive,” I mutter, more to myself than her. “That’s how he’s eluding me.”

She nods, excitement and concern battling in her expression. “Phil said they don’t like him. The vines. The jungle. But he hides deep. Where even they hesitate.”

The implications crash through me like a shockwave.

Of course. The dead zones. The blackened scars that interrupt the jungle’s otherwise perfect network.

Areas where even the most aggressive flora refuses to grow.

I’ve avoided those regions instinctively, guided by the jungle’s silent warning.

Something about those places feels wrong, damaged at a fundamental level that makes even my predator instincts recoil.

“There is a region,” I explain, moving closer to her, drawn by an invisible tether that makes separation physically uncomfortable. “South of the primary rift gate. The jungle calls it the Burning. Nothing grows there. Nothing lives there.”

“Like a burn scar?” Miri asks, her quick mind making connections that impress me despite my concern. “From what? Fire? Weapons?”

I shake my head. “Older. Much older than my presence here. The jungle will not speak of it directly, even to me. It projects only...fear. Revulsion.” I press my palm against a nearby trunk, connecting deeper to clarify my thoughts. “As if the very soil is poisoned with memory.”

Phil undulates at her feet, confirming my assessment with a series of movements that translate into wordless agreement.

“And you think the fugitive—Vaskari, right?—is hiding there?” Her voice drops lower, taking on that tone she uses when piecing together a mystery. “That’s brilliant, actually. If it’s the one place the jungle avoids, it’s the one place your living surveillance network can’t see.”

I activate the comm node at my wrist, a rudimentary relay meant to bounce signals when the stronger transmitters fail. The uplink is quiet—no confirmation, no chirp of connection—but I transmit the coordinates anyway.

Dead drop protocol. Repeat every hour. High risk threat, potential jungle breach.

If Command has ears up, they’ll know where to come. And they’ll come fast.

“The atmospheric interference is still too dense for clear transmission,” I tell her, frustration tightening my voice. “But Legion monitors for emergency beacons even during blackout periods. If they detect my signal, they’ll investigate.”

Miri watches me with that penetrating gaze that sees too much, understands too quickly. “But you’re not waiting for backup, are you?”

“I cannot.” My tail lashes once, betraying my agitation. “If Vaskari has established operations in the Burning, he could be preparing to move. The weapons technology he stole—it’s not just destructive. It’s transformative. It could alter the fundamental nature of this ecosystem.”

“You mean kill the jungle.”

“Or worse.” I don’t elaborate. She doesn’t need the nightmares that come with knowing what bio-adaptive weapons can do to sentient systems.

Her expression shifts to determination. “Then we need to stop him.”

“I need to stop him,” I correct, already mentally cataloging the equipment I’ll need. “You will remain here, protected.”

The vines around us stir restlessly, sensing the coming conflict. Phil coils protectively around Miri’s ankle, while other tendrils begin gathering my weapons, my tracking gear, responding to my silent commands through our neural link.

Miri’s eyes narrow. “I found the answer to your mystery. I might be useful out there.”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than intended, but I don’t soften it. “The Burning is dangerous beyond your comprehension. Even I avoid it when possible.”

“But that’s exactly why it’s the perfect hiding spot,” she argues, that stubborn lift to her chin making my chest tighten with both admiration and frustration.

“No one would look there. It’s like abandoned missile silos or decommissioned bunkers back home—the places people avoid are exactly where secrets hide. ”

She’s not wrong. Her experience chasing cryptids across her world has given her insights into concealment patterns that even Legion training doesn’t cover. Prey behavior is universal, it seems, regardless of the planet.

“Your knowledge is valuable,” I acknowledge. “But your safety is non-negotiable.”

She stands, moving closer until she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder, yet she faces me with the fearlessness of a warrior twice my size.

“You can’t protect me forever, Lor.”

“Yes I can,” I counter, my voice low. “But I do not need forever. Just tonight. Just until this threat is eliminated.”

Her scent shifts slightly—determination mixed with concern. “And then what? You send me home and we pretend none of this happened? That we aren’t...whatever we are to each other?”

The question hits like a physical blow. The thought of sending her away, of watching her step back through the rift gate into her world...it tears at something fundamental inside me. But the alternative—keeping her here, in constant danger, away from her family, her life—is equally unacceptable.

“When you are safe,” I say carefully, choosing each word with precision, “when this threat is neutralized, I will follow Legion protocol for first contact situations involving kassari bonds.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Her arms cross over her chest, a defensive posture I’m learning to recognize.

“I will return with you to Terra Prime. Make sure you have what you need. Then, court you properly, according to your customs, such as those dates you mentioned.” The words feel stiff, inadequate to express the depth of my intention. “If you choose to accept me, then we go from there.”

She blinks, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “Did you just say you’ll take me on dates? On Earth?”

“Yes.”

“Like, dinner and movies? Meeting my brother? The whole human courtship ritual?”

I nod once, stiffly. “If that is your preference.”

Her smile widens. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy watching you try to blend in at an Olive Garden.”

I’m not familiar with this “Olive Garden,” but her amusement suggests it will be a challenge. One I’m willing to face, if it means keeping her in my life.

“But first,” I say, returning to the matter at hand, “I must eliminate the threat Vaskari poses. Tonight.”

Her smile fades. “And I’m supposed to just sit here and wait? While you go into the one place even the jungle fears?”

“Yes.”

She turns away from me, pacing the small confines of our shelter. Phil follows her movement, vine-body undulating in what I’ve come to recognize as anxiety.

“I can defend myself,” she says finally, her back still to me, shoulders tight. “I’ve faced down cults and conspiracy theorists with guns. I’ve hiked through rattlesnake country. I’ve been in a bar fight in rural Alaska.”

The words make my chest twist. She means it. She believes it. And part of me thrills at her fire. But another part—the one born in battlefields and bone-deep instinct—recoils.

My mate. Alone. Unprotected.

“I trust you,” I say slowly, choosing my words with care. “But I trust the jungle more.”

Phil coils lightly around her ankle as if to agree, a sentinel I know will not fail me.

“If you wander too far—” I pause, then point a claw at the vine. “Phil has my permission to pin you down.”

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “I am not a jungle toddler.”

“Then stop sneaking off like one.”

She scowls. Phil wiggles, apparently enjoying our exchange far too much for a supposedly neutral party.

I step closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her. My fingers brush the back of her cheek in a touch so gentle it seems incongruous with my clawed hand. “Stay close to the heart of the jungle. Let it shield you. I will return soon.”

Her expression softens slightly, though the stubborn set of her jaw remains. “And if you don’t?”

“I will.” There is no alternative I’m willing to consider. Not when it comes to returning to her.

I begin gathering the additional weapons and tools I’ll need, securing them to my body with practiced efficiency.

Blades that can pierce Cydarian armor. Sensors calibrated to detect the specific energy signature of the stolen tech.

A vial of antitoxin in case the Burning holds more dangers than just Vaskari.

Miri watches me prepare, her initial anger giving way to something more complex—worry, yes, but also a kind of fierce pride that makes my chest swell with primitive satisfaction. She approaches as I finish, reaching up to touch the blade secured at my shoulder.

“This is stupid, but...be careful,” she says, her voice catching slightly. “I’ve gotten kind of attached to you, Furball.”

The nickname pulls a rare smile from me. “I will return before dawn.”

“You’d better.” She rises on her toes, pressing a kiss to my jaw that sears like a brand. “Because I want those Earth dates you promised. And Phil agrees you owe me dinner at the very least.”

The vine gives what I can only interpret as an affirmative wiggle. Traitor.

I pull her against me one more time, breathing in her scent, committing it to memory.

The thought of leaving her, even for a few hours, creates a physical ache in my chest. But the thought of Vaskari’s weapons technology loose in this ecosystem—potentially threatening not just the jungle but Miri herself—is worse.

“Stay within the protective perimeter,” I instruct, drawing back reluctantly. “The vines will alert me if anything approaches.”

I turn to Phil directly, establishing a deeper neural connection. *Protect her with your life. If danger comes, hide her in the heart chamber. Alert the entire network to prioritize her safety above all else.*

Phil’s response is immediate and resolute—a series of impressions that translate to absolute commitment. The vine would die before allowing harm to come to Miri. The jungle has chosen her, accepted her, just as I have.

The knowledge brings me comfort as I prepare to face what lies ahead. The Burning waits, a scar in the perfect symmetry of this world. And somewhere in its blighted expanse, Vaskari hides with technology that could destroy everything I’ve grown to care for.

I steal one last glance at Miri—my improbable mate from another world, standing tall and defiant beside a sentient vine that adores her. The sight burns itself into my memory, fuel for what’s to come.

The jungle shifts behind me, leaves rustling like whispered encouragement. It will watch her. Shield her. And if I fail...it will avenge her.

But I don’t plan on failing.