Page 53 of Enslak

Enslak set down his load carefully and moved back toward the ship, gesturing for me to stay put. I watched as he circled the vessel, studying the ground, his movements deliberate and focused.

Some of the prints were enormous—easily twice the size of my hand. Whatever made them had to be massive. Powerful. Built for hunting. The claw marks alone told me everything I needed to know about how deadly they were. These weren't the claws of a scavenger or an herbivore. These were weapons, designed to catch, to hold, to kill.

I looked at the tree line, suddenly seeing it differently. Not beautiful. Not peaceful. Dangerous. Full of things that could tear us apart without breaking stride.

"We were so exposed," I said. "We didn't even know. We were just there. Loading supplies. And they were right here, watching us."

Enslak moved to stand beside me, his hand finding mine. When I looked up at him, his expression was calm. Not surprised. Not concerned.

He'd known.

"You knew there were predators here," I said. It wasn't a question.

He nodded and touched his nose. He'd scented them.

"That's why you were so careful choosing the cave." Understanding flooded through me. "You weren't just looking for comfort. You were looking for protection."

Another nod. He pointed at the tracks around the ship, then gestured toward our cave. Then he made a motion with his hands—something that took me a moment to interpret. Distance. Separation.

"They don't go near the cave," I said slowly. "These tracks are all around the ship, but they don't venture toward where we're staying."

He nodded, more emphatically this time. Then he pointed toward the cave and made a gesture I recognized—the narrow entrance. The defensible position. The clear sightlines he'd been so careful to secure.

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick. "For keeping us safe."

He touched my face, his fingers gentle against my cheek. His gaze was soft and warm, making me feel protected in a way I'd never experienced before.

I took one last look at the ship and the predator tracks surrounding it, then turned back toward the cave. "We should go. Before they come back."

When we finally reached the cave, relief hit me so hard it made me dizzy. We carried the supplies inside and began organizing our temporary home.

Enslak arranged the water containers along one wall—easily accessible but out of the way. I unpacked the food stores, setting them on the flat stones he'd positioned for exactly this purpose. The medical kit went near the bedding, close enough to reach quickly if needed. I spread the blankets over the grass-like plants he'd gathered, creating a soft, warm sleeping area.

We worked in comfortable silence, moving around each other with surprising ease. He'd hand me something just as I reached for it. I'd step aside just as he moved to place another stone. Like a dance we'd practiced, even though this was our first time.

When everything was arranged—when our cave looked less like a hollow in the rock and more like a place where people actually lived—I stepped back and surveyed our work.

It was cozy. That was the word that came to mind. More than that, though—it felt safe. Protected. Enslak had made sure of it.

I looked at him, at this massive, scarred being who'd been treated like an animal for a century but still retained the instinct to protect, to provide, to care.

He straightened from adjusting the stones around the fire pit and met my eyes, satisfaction clear in his expression. Pride in what we'd built together.

My stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly.

Enslak's head tilted, his gold eyes focusing on me with curiosity. Heat rose to my cheeks.

"I'm fine," I said, but my stomach grumbled again, calling me a liar. The physical work of setting up camp, the adrenaline crash from our escape, the sheer exhaustion—it was all catching up to me. Plus, I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten.

I moved to where we'd stacked the supplies and dug through one of the containers until I found what I was looking for. Nutrient bars. Binwee had packed at least a hundred of them—compact, efficient, designed to provide everything a body needed to survive.

They also tasted like cardboard mixed with vitamins and despair.

I pulled one out and unwrapped it, the synthetic smell hitting my nose. Not terrible, exactly. Just aggressively bland. I took a bite, chewing mechanically, trying not to think about the pizza place three blocks from my apartment. Or the Thai restaurant Danny and I used to go to.

Enslak watched me curiously, his head tilted slightly.

I swallowed and held out another bar to him. "Here. You should eat too."