Page 20 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)

SHE…THINKS ABOUT MY MUSCLES

THARN

M y dra-kir beats too quickly for a hunter at rest.

Many sols have passed since we left the cave of fireblooms. Many sols of constant vigilance, of scanning horizons for threats, of watching Jah-kee's small form for signs of weakness or pain. Many sols of growing awareness that something inside me has fundamentally changed.

The tether between us grows stronger with each passing moment.

It is no longer just the light beneath my skin that responds to her presence.

It is everything. My senses heightened to catch the faintest change in her scent, my ears tuned to the rhythm of her breathing, my body instinctively positioning itself between her and any potential danger.

I find myself watching her when she does not notice. Watching the way Ain’s light catches in her head-fur. Observing how her water-blue eyes narrow when she concentrates, how her small teeth catch her lower lip when she's uncertain.

These details should mean nothing to a hunter. Yet I catalogue them as carefully as I would track prey across the dust.

It is... unsettling.

More unsettling still are the glimpses I've begun to catch of her thoughts. Not true mindspeak, but flashes. When she looked at the stars, I felt her wonder. When she stumbled and I caught her, I felt her gratitude. These moments are brief, but I have begun to hunger for them.

And now, as we begin another sol's journey, I find myself searching for more. Hungering for them in a way that makes my instincts bristle with warning.

This is not the way of a hunter. Not the way of the clan.

I push the thoughts aside as I guide Jah-kee through the dust. Ain is already high overhead and Jah-kee moves beside me, her stride shorter than it was at dawn. Her breathing comes quicker. Her skin pushing those tiny beads of water from her pores.

She is weakening, and the waterskin is nearly empty. She will suffer because I failed to provide.

I scan the horizon, searching for signs of water, of shade, of anything that might ease her burden. The dunes roll endlessly before us, broken only by a dark line in the distance—a ravine cutting through the desert floor.

Beyond it, the land rises into rocky foothills. A better place. Higher ground often holds water, and the rocks will offer true shelter from Ain's light.Good. But to reach it, we must first cross the scar on the land.

I gesture toward it, catching Jah-kee's attention. She follows my gaze, chin jerking in understanding.

"Is that where we're headed?" she vocalizes, her voice thin with tiredness or maybe thirst.

I tilt my head, pointing to the waterskin at my side, then to the ravine.

“ Water .” Maybe. I hope.

She smiles, the expression brightening her face despite her exhaustion. "Lead on, Tharn."

My dra-kir speeds up at the sound of my name on her tongue. By the time we reach the edge of the ravine, Ain has climbed to her zenith, her light brutal and unforgiving. I scan the steep walls of stone dropping away before us.

The path across is barely wide enough for my feet, the ground unstable with loose rock and shifting sand. My instincts scream to find another way. But I know this is the only path. For me, it is a risk. For her, it is a death sentence if she falls.

Jah-kee steps forward, peering down. "Well," she vocalizes, "that's going to be fun."

I gesture for her to stay close, pointing to the path and then to myself to indicate I will guide her. She should follow behind me, where I can best protect her from what lies ahead.

But she shakes her head, jaw setting stubbornly. She points to herself, then to the path. She wants to go first.

Worry tightens my chest. My dra-kir pulses an urgent warning. She is tired, weakened by heat and thirst. Her steps have been unsteady for the last half-sol. If she slips?—

But the determination in her eyes stops my protest before it forms. There is pride there, and something else. A need to prove herself, perhaps.

I cannot deny her this. Not when I feel the strength of her will pulsing across the strange connection between us.

So I tilt my head in affirmation, though every instinct rebels against it. I gesture for her to proceed, but indicate I will stay close behind her.

She takes a deep breath and steps onto the path. I follow so close my chest almost touches her back.

The ground crumbles slightly beneath her first step. She steadies herself, her breathing quickening, before continuing forward. One careful step after another, her arms slightly extended for balance.

We make slow progress, the ravine yawning wide beneath us. The wind picks up, whistling through the stone corridors below, tugging at Jah-kee's garments. She sways slightly but continues forward.

A section of path gives way beneath her foot, loose rocks skittering down into the ravine. She lurches forward, arms flailing as she tries to regain her balance.

My body moves before thought, an instinct faster than reason. My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her hard against my chest as her feet slide out from under her.

For a single dra-kir beat, we teeter on the edge, my own balance precarious from the sudden movement. Planting my feet, my claws dig into the stone, anchoring us.

Jah-kee gasps, her small hands grasping my arm where it holds her. Her dra-kir races against my forearm in a frantic rhythm.

The thought of her falling, of her fragile body shattering on the rocks below, sends a surge of pure fear through me.

She looks up at me, her water-blue eyes wide, her breath coming in short gasps.

Her scent fills my senses—fear, yes, but also trust. Complete, absolute trust that I would not let her fall.

She trusts me. With her life. With her safety. With everything.

The glow beneath my skin pulses brighter, responding to the surge of... something... that floods through me at this understanding.

I set her carefully back on the path, though my hands linger on her shoulders longer than necessary. She's trembling slightly, the fear she hid now visible in the fine shaking of her limbs.

"Thanks," she vocalizes. "Guess I should watch where I'm stepping, huh?"

I rumble softly, a sound of comfort, and move closer still, my arm a ready shield as we finish the crossing.

When we reach the other side, she collapses onto a flat rock, her face pale beneath the flush of heat.

I offer her the last of the water. She refuses, gesturing for me to drink. Her stubbornness burns bright.

I growl low in my throat and press the pouch firmly to her lips. She drinks, draining it. It is not enough.

She needs more water. Now. I must leave her to find it.

I scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of moisture. The ravine floor below might offer better chances. Water often finds the lowest point, and the shade of the ravine walls would protect any seeps from Ain's evaporating light.

But reaching the floor means leaving Jah-kee alone, exposed on the ridge. The thought makes my dra-kir twist painfully.

There is no choice. She needs water. I must find it.

I help her move to the shade of a rock outcropping, gesturing for her to stay put while I search. She frowns, her brow furrowing.

"Where are you going?" she vocalizes. She tries to sit up. "Tharn, please, don't leave me here."

The distress in her tone is clear. I place my claw over hers, rumbling softly in reassurance. I point to the ravine, then mime drinking.

Her eyes widen in understanding, but she shakes her head. "I'll come with you."

She tries to stand, but her legs wobble dangerously. I push her gently back down, my expression firm. She cannot make the climb down the ravine wall in her current state. She would fall. She would die.

"Fine," she mutters, crossing her arms across her chest. "But hurry back. I don't want to be shadow creature bait."

I rumble again, this time with a note of promise. I will return. She will be safe.

I move quickly to the edge of the ravine, seeking a path down its steep wall. The descent is treacherous, loose rock sliding beneath my feet, but I make my way down with the sure-footedness of a hunter born in the dust.

The floor of the ravine is cooler, sheltered from Ain's direct light by the high walls on either side. I move swiftly, scanning the base of the rock walls for any sign of moisture.

And there—a darker patch of sand near the base of the eastern wall. I approach cautiously, hope rising in my chest. Yes. A small seep of water trickles from a crack in the rock, forming a tiny pool no larger than my claw before disappearing back into the dust.

It's not much, but it's enough. Enough to fill our waterskin, enough to cool Jah-kee's overheated skin, enough to keep her alive until we reach the next water source.

I fill the pouch carefully, making sure to capture every precious drop.

The climb back up the ravine wall is harder, hampered by my need to keep the waterskin secure, but the thought of Jah-kee waiting above drives me onward.

When I crest the ridge, my dra-kir pulses with relief at the sight of her still sitting where I left her. Her head rests against the rock, eyes closed, face turned away from the sky. For a terrifying moment, I fear she has fallen unconscious.

But at my approach, her eyes flutter open, finding mine immediately.

"You found water," she breathes, her gaze fixing on the pouch in my hands.

I kneel beside her, offering it immediately. She drinks greedily, her movements clumsy with exhaustion. Water spills down her chin, dampening the front of her hide-covering, but she doesn't seem to notice or care.

When she's drunk her fill, she sighs, eyes closing in obvious relief.

"That feels amazing," she murmurs, resting back against the stone. But the fire in her skin still burns.

I look at the waterskin. Then at my claw.

To waste even a single drop on the dust is a deep offense. Water is life, meant only for the throat, to sustain the body from within. What I am about to do… it is wrong. A hunter does not waste.

But the heat from her skin is a silent scream, and it overrides every law I have ever known.

With a resolve that feels like a betrayal of my kind, I pour a small amount of the precious water into my palm. Before I can second-guess the waste, I press my wet claw to Jah-kee’s brow.

She sighs, a deep, shuddering sound of pure relief, her body leaning into my touch. The simple sound shatters something inside me.

I move my claw to her cheeks, her neck, the exposed skin of her arms where Ain has created an angry red.

Each time my claw runs dry, I pour more water, ignoring the voice of my ancestors screaming in my head at the sacrilege.

I am letting life itself drip onto the dust, all for the soft sounds she makes.

And Jah-kee allows this tending without protest, a sign of just how deeply the heat has taken her.

As I press my damp palm to the fast, frantic pulse at the base of her throat, it happens. A strange pulse of thought reaches me. It is not my own.

It is a warmth. A feeling of safety. And something else, a thought so clear it is like a whisper in my own mind:

—gentle… for someone so dangerous ? —

The fragment slips in, gone before I can grasp it. My claw stills on her skin.

Did she...?

Is the mindspace opening between us? I stare at her face, but her eyes are still closed, her expression peaceful. She is unaware. The thought was hers, but she does not know she sent it.

I help her to her feet, focus on her face. Hoping for more. As we walk, slower now, more fragments come, brief flashes of her thoughts breaking through.

— wonder what Justine will think of him ?—

— the way his muscles shift when he walks ?—

That last thought is not just an observation. It carries a warmth that makes my member stir. She finds my form… pleasing? The thought is a strange, hot stone in my chest. I find myself suddenly aware of my own body.

The water from the ravine gives her strength. For a time. We walk for the rest of the sol, her steps more certain, her mind quieter. We camp in the shelter of tall rock formations. Jah-kee seems to be regaining some strength. I allow myself to believe the worst is over.

But the dust is relentless. And Ain is unforgiving.

Another sol of walking under the burning sky begins to strip away the strength she had regained. The water is once again a few precious, sloshing drops at the bottom of my waterskin.

I slow my pace, allowing Jah-kee to match it without strain.

"I'm fine," she vocalizes when she catches me watching her. "Just a little hot."

The barely there impression of her thoughts in the mindspace tells me what she means.

But she is not fine. Her steps grow increasingly unsteady.

Twice already this sol she has stumbled on perfectly flat ground.

Her skin has taken on a strange flush, different from the reddening caused by Ain's light.

And there is something else. A subtle shift in her scent that triggers an ancient warning in my hunter's instincts.

Something is wrong.

That dark, as she rests, I watch the too-rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her face appears flushed even in the darkness, and occasionally she mutters words I cannot understand, her head turning fitfully from side to side.

I press a careful hand to her brow, alarmed by the heat radiating from her skin. Not the normal warmth of her alien body, but something hotter, dangerous.

That fire beneath her skin is returning.

Is it the shadowmaw's poison still? A new sickness? Something in the water or meat I have been feeding her?

I do not know. And not knowing fills me with a fear I have never experienced before—not in the face of shadowmaws or dust storms or rival clans.

This fear has no target to fight, no strategy to overcome it. There is only Jah-kee's small body, burning with an invisible fire I cannot extinguish.

My dra-kir pulses frantically, reaching for hers across whatever strange connection binds us. I feel... something. A flickering response, weaker than before. Like a light dimming.

I do not rest that dark.