Page 54 of Enslak

He took it carefully, his massive fingers surprisingly gentle as they closed around the small package. He studied it for a moment, turning it over, examining the wrapper with the same focus he'd used to select our cave.

Then he unwrapped it.

His entire face contorted. His nose wrinkled, his lips pulled back, and he made a sound I'd never heard before—a gagging, retching noise that came from deep in his throat. Visceral. Disgusted. The universal sound of someone encountering something absolutely revolting.

He held the bar away from his body like it might explode. This was coming from someone who'd been forced to eat slop off the floor for a century.

I couldn't help it.

I laughed.

It started as a snort, then bubbled up into genuine laughter that shook my shoulders and made my eyes water. I laughed so hard I had to sit down on one of the flat stones, clutching my stomach, tears streaming down my face.

It was the first real laugh I'd had since before I was shot.

And it felt good.

Enslak stared at me, his expression shifting from disgust to confusion. His head tilted the other way, like he was trying to puzzle out what was happening. Why I was making these sounds. Whether I was in distress or dying.

I tried to explain through the laughter. "Your face—you should have seen your face—"

But I was laughing too hard to get the words out.

He looked at the nutrient bar again, then back at me, and something shifted in his expression. Understanding, maybe. Or the recognition that my sounds weren't distress but something else entirely.

A low rumble started in his chest. Not quite a laugh—I wasn't sure he remembered how to laugh—but something close. A sound of amusement, of shared understanding, of connection.

He dropped the nutrient bar like it had personally offended him and pointed at his stomach. Then he gestured toward the forest beyond our cave, his hands moving with purpose, claws extending slightly as he made unmistakable gestures—stalking, hunting, killing.

"You want to hunt," I said, my laughter fading into understanding. "Real food. Not these bars."

He nodded emphatically, then made the gagging sound again, this time clearly exaggerated for effect.

I laughed again, softer this time. "Yeah, they're pretty terrible. But they're safe. They're here. And out there—" I gestured toward the forest, toward where we'd seen those massive predator tracks. "Out there is dangerous."

His expression shifted, becoming serious. He moved closer, and I felt my breath catch as he knelt in front of me, bringing his face level with mine.

His hand rose slowly, giving me time to pull away if I wanted to. But I didn't.

His fingers touched my face, gentle despite the deadly claws. His palm cupped my cheek, warm and rough and impossibly tender, and his gold eyes held mine with an intensity that made everything else fade away.

He was telling me something. Without words, without language, he was communicating as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud.

I will keep us safe. I will come back. Trust me.

My hand rose to cover his, pressing his palm more firmly against my face. "Okay," I whispered. "Okay. Be careful."

He held my gaze for another heartbeat, then stood. He moved to the cave entrance and paused there, his massive frame silhouetted against the fading light. His head turned slowly, scanning the clearing, the tree line, assessing threats with the instincts of someone who'd survived a century of war.

Then he looked back at me one more time. His fingers touched his chest, then pointed at me—a gesture I understood perfectly.

You. Mine to protect.

And then he was gone, vanishing into the forest with impossible silence for something his size.

I sat alone at the cave entrance, listening to Avalon's alien symphony. Wind rustled through vegetation that wasn't quite trees. Distant calls echoed from creatures I couldn't identify. Somewhere deeper in the forest, something massive and ancient released a deep, primal roar that rumbled through the air.

My hand rose to touch my cheek where his palm had been, the warmth still lingering.