Page 226 of Beasts of Mine

The sleeping room smelled stronger after two weeks away, but nothing felt wrong. Malek and Luca had been using the nest, so their scents had worked deeply into the blankets. Tavian's remained there too, older but recognizable, and traces of mine lingered beneath all three.

My drawer was untouched.

The shelf had changed.

A small piece of polished pottery from a market I'd visited on an earlier assignment sat beside Tavian's dark stone. A narrow woven band from another trip rested near my empty memory-card cases, and the tiny wooden bird I'd bought from a local artist several months ago leaned against the wall behind them.

I reached into the front pocket of my personal bag and took out the newest addition, a small clay sea turtle made by a woman who sold pottery near the coastal research station. The shell had uneven green lines painted across it, one flipper was slightly shorter than the other, and Tavian had informed me three separate times that the crooked flipper was his favorite part.

I placed it beside the wooden bird.

“The shelf likes that one.” Tavian told me as he came up behind me, leaning over my shoulder to inspect where I'd put the turtle.

“The shelf doesn't have opinions.” I reminded Tavian as I adjusted the turtle until it sat securely, feeling his hands come to rest lightly at my waist.

“You don't know that.” Tavian replied near my ear, sounding far too serious about furniture having feelings.

“You called it patient once.” I reminded Tavian as I turned enough to look at him, remembering how little had been on the shelf back then.

“It was. Now it's busy.” Tavian insisted as he glanced at the collection again. I looked back at the shelf and decided he wasn't entirely wrong. It had started as empty space nobody wanted to assume I needed, and now it held small pieces of places I'd worked. Nothing was rare or taken from protected land. Every item had been bought, gifted legally, or made by someone local. They were simply things I'd chosen to bring back because I liked them.

Seeing them together made me happy.

That evening fell easily into the routine we'd built. Luca fed us while Tavian gave Malek a detailed account of airport security, including his strong opinions about taking off his shoes for strangers. Malek listened from beside me with an expression that grew increasingly concerned every time Tavian added another detail.

“They also make you empty your pockets.” Tavian told Malek as he picked up another bite of food, his brows drawing together as though the rule remained personally offensive.

“That seems reasonable.” Malek replied as he continued eating, his tone making it clear he didn't understand the problem.

“They already had my bag.” Tavian explained to Malek as he pointed toward the doorway, apparently presenting evidence in a case only he was arguing.

“You had things in your pockets.” I reminded Tavian as I reached for my drink, remembering the collection of objects he'd reluctantly put into the tray.

“They were mine.” Tavian told me as he turned his offended expression in my direction.

“Yes. That's generally how pockets work.” I informed Tavian as Luca covered a laugh with one hand and Malek's purr started beside me.

After dinner, I unpacked enough equipment to make sure nothing needed immediate attention. Malek left for a while to check the western boundary. The snare problem had never been fully explained, but there hadn't been another snare found inside sanctuary territory in months. Nobody knew who had originally placed them or whether whoever was responsible had simply moved elsewhere. There was nothing new to follow tonight.

Luca had added another charging point near my worktable during the two weeks I'd been gone. The electrical setup was slowly becoming less improvised, with better protected outlets, additional dry storage, and a second light near the work area. Nobody was trying to turn the temple into an ordinary modern house. They were simply adapting the spaces we actually used.

Later, I sat at the table with my laptop open and began the first rough pass through the new photographs. Tavian stretched across the floor nearby with one ankle crossed over the other while Luca repaired a torn strap on one of his bags. Malek returned shortly after dark and sat close enough behind me that his knee occasionally touched the back of my chair, wet vegetation still clinging faintly to his scent.

I moved quickly through the first images: shorebirds, tracks in wet sand, a nesting turtle heading back toward the water before sunrise, and Tavian walking through the edge of one frame because he'd forgotten which direction my lens was facing.

I marked the Tavian photograph for future use and clicked forward.

My hand stopped.

The next image showed a marshy section near the coast, taken late in the afternoon while I'd been waiting for a bird to move into better light. Vegetation filled most of the frame, with shallow water and dark trunks along the far side.

Something stood between two of them.

“That's weird.” I said aloud as I enlarged the photograph, slowing my fingers over the trackpad when the shape became clearer instead of disappearing into ordinary shadow.

“What?” Luca asked me as he put the torn strap aside and moved his chair closer, his eyes going straight to the screen while Tavian stopped whatever he'd been about to say.

“I don't know yet.” I told Luca as I enlarged the background again, leaning closer when the figure became distinct enough that the hair along my forearms lifted. Tavian got up from the floor and came to my other side. Malek leaned forward behind me, one broad hand coming to rest against the back of my chair.