Page 71 of Anomalies

“I won’t fall,” I growl, wiggling my limbs to try and free them.

He drops my legs, and the lower half of me crashes to the ground. I catch myself against his arm that remains wrapped under my shoulders, wincing as the world rights itself once more. I take back the brunt of my weight, my thighs burning in protest, but I get my footing. Barely.

Callan releases me entirely, and his assertive chin jerks to the path ahead of us. “Go on, then.”

I turn my nose up as I take a daring step forward, landing on the outer edge of my foot, but I quickly recover, shockwaves rolling up my legs that cause my thighs to quiver. My hands fist, gaining a bit of confidence as I skillfully cross a system of roots spreading from the trunk of a nearby tree. Each lift of my leg is tedious, but only because it throws me off balance, and right now balance is my greatest enem⁠—

The ground tilts and I hitch forward, falling onto… Callan as he hoists me up and over his shoulder.

He’s fast, I’ll give him that.

His arm locks around my legs in anticipation of a kick that I have no strength to give, and my fight winks out as he takes off walking, meticulously navigating the rough parts of the path while ducking under low-hanging branches.

“Chaos.”

I lift my head. “Excuse me?”

“Chaos,” he says again, as if he’s feeling out the word on his tongue. “That’s what I’ll call you.”

Great.

“Speechless, Chaos?” he teases when I don’t respond. “That’s twice in one night.” A low branch nearly takes off my head, but he ducks under it just in time. “I’m dying to hear your opinion.”

“Then you might as well stop breathing.” I prop myself up on my elbows, catching the glint of a dagger hilt peeking out from the side of his vest. If I were careful, I could⁠—

“Is that what you’re going to do with that dagger?” I freeze at his question. “Try to kill me?” He makes no move to set me down or swipe the dagger from its sheath before I get the chance to… he just keeps walking.

It isn’t because he underestimates me, it’s because his greatest weapon isn’t a blade, it’s something I’d never win against. It runs through his blood. It’s a sharp talon scraping through my bank of memories; it’s a hawk swooping down to steal them or rewire them, mesh them into whatever he desires. Quicker and sharper than any blade.

“No,” I breathe, shaking the thought away. “That’s not how I’d kill you.”

“Was that a death threat?” he chuckles, my ribs cutting into his shoulder as he steps over a particularly large tree root, heading towards the Banyan and the rows of cabins beyond.

“Just speaking my mind. Thought you were dying to hear it.” My body rocks back and forth with each step he takes.

His laugh is low and raspy. “Well, don’t stop now. How would you kill me?”

“Why on earth would I tell you that?”

“So, you’ve thought about it?”

I snort, “Obviously.”

We pass into the lodging section of camp, my stomach pinched from being folded over the hard surface of his shoulder, and his arm tightens around my legs when I start squirming again.

“That’s sweet,” he deadpans, readjusting me on his shoulder. “I’ve thought about killing you, too.”

“Is that what you thought about when you were claws deep in my brain a few days ago? Rifling through my memories until you found one worthy of stealing⁠—”

He suddenly sets me down in front of my cabin and my feet hit the ground with a heavy thud. He keeps hold of my weight with a hand braced on either hip. “I will never take a single memory of yours,” Callan says in a tone so serious that I almost laugh.

“Do you think I’m stupid or something?” The Captain could steal a memory from me at any time—my shields aren’t strong enough yet to block him out. And how the hell would I even know if a memory is missing? I wouldn’t fucking remember it.

He smiles then, the intensity in his stare softening. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I think you’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for. I think you’ve been dealt a shitty hand, and somewhere along the way you’ve adapted the mindset that it makes you weak to trust other people. I think⁠—”

“I don’t care what you think.”

“I think,” he trails on, releasing me, and my stance quakes, “that I understand you in a way no one else has before, and that scares you.”