Chapter 20
We make slow progress—whatever trail once existed has been completely erased by the snowstorm.
Before we left, Prax double-checked our location using his “special” access to the Confed’s databases.
Apparently, each housing unit has some kind of serial number and can be tracked on a map.
That’s how he figured out we hadn’t strayed too far from the border.
This shelter is less than six miles from the edge of the zone.
That might explain why it was abandoned—maybe the owner gave up trying to return from the city once the weather turned ugly?
We’re following the outer boundary as best we can, and Prax plans to head east when we reach a small lake about twenty miles from here.
We should come across another traveler’s shelter soon after.
The central hub of Arabia Terra is still two days away, give or take, depending on the terrain.
Mars doesn’t really have roads—just paths that have been traveled and marked often enough to be usable.
And since we’re taking a different route than most, our trip is… let’s call it adventurous.
When we finally see the lake, it takes my breath away.
The surface is partially frozen, but one section remains open, dark water shimmering in the light.
The air smells rich—damp earth, a hint of sweetness, moss, old leaves.
Trees surround the water, their branches heavy with snow.
And there, by the shore, stands a herd of caribou.
Majestic, peaceful, with antlers like crowns.
Their dark eyes watch the lake, their breath rising in puffs of mist. The stillness is hypnotic.
I glance at Prax, a little uneasy. We share beautiful moments like this, but I can’t fully forget that he’s a predator. It’s ironic, really—his nature doesn’t bother me at all when it comes to Pallas.
My gorgeous Sadjim catches my expression and gives me that devilish grin that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Way too big,” he murmurs with a sly wink.
He’s right. These caribou are massive—definitely not snack-sized. We wait for almost thirty minutes before moving on. I’m surprised he lets the whole herd drink in peace. Maybe I’m rubbing off on him.
By nightfall, we reach the shelter we hoped to find. Through the half-transparent walls, we can see someone inside. Before Prax can spin the vehicle around and suggest we camp in the wilderness again, I hop out.
“I’ll go check it out,” I say.
“No—you don’t know who that is,” he growls.
“I don’t know anyone out here. I’ve never left Cydonia. I’ll see if they’re friendly. You can leave me behind if you want.”
He scowls, clearly unhappy. But honestly? He’s not the type to just let me wander off alone. His overprotective streak is almost sweet—almost.
I head straight for the front door of the outpost and step inside cautiously.
“Well hello there, young lady. You're a long way from the center! What brings you all the way out here?”
The man addressing me is no spring chicken. Judging by his weathered features and the patchy gray-and-white hair covering parts of his scalp and chin, he must be well over seventy. A warm, welcoming smile spreads across his wrinkled face.
“Hi. Sorry to intrude—I didn’t know anyone was here. I was hoping to find a place to spend the night.”
“You came to the right place! You’d freeze to death out there before you found the next shelter. I’m Hans. And you?”
“I’m Neela.”
My mind races. What now? Should I go back to Prax and sleep out in the snow cocoon again? Or ask him to join me here? If it were anyone else, I’d have no problem. But how’s this guy going to react when he sees a Sadjim?
“I’m getting too old for this crap,” Hans sighs. “I’ve got a unit up north. I left five days ago to see a doctor in Arabia. Then the storm hit and I’ve been stuck. Maybe it’s time to move closer to town.”
He seems harmless enough. Just a lonely guy trying to get home. Now that I think about it… this might be his place—the shelter Prax and I crashed in during the storm.
“Come in, don’t be shy. There are three bedrooms. I promise not to bother you.”
“Thank you… Hans. Are you feeling okay? You mentioned seeing a doctor. I’m actually a doctor myself.”
“Don’t tell me Zim sent you! I told him I’m fine. Just a little chest pain—nothing some herbal potions won’t fix.”
“No one sent me. I came from Cydonia.”
“Cydonia? In this weather?” he says, amazed. “Nobody travels this route at the end of winter.”
“Well… me and my friend, Prax. He’s waiting outside.”
“Then tell him to come in! I won’t intrude on a young couple. I was just about to make lentil stew—guess I’ll grab a bit more now that we’re three.”
“Wait… I’m not sure we’ll stay. My friend’s… different. And a little shy.”
“Shy? Really?” he snorts.
Right on cue, Prax bursts in, eyes scanning for danger.
“Neela?” he growls.
“All good,” I say quickly. “Hans, this is Prax.”
Hans sizes him up, blinking at his towering height and… well… fur.
“Different, huh?” he mutters, scratching his chin.
“Hello, Human,” Prax says seriously. “What are your intentions toward my companion? Peaceful or hostile?”
Hans turns to me, unfazed. “Shy, huh?” he laughs.
“Answer,” Prax growls.
“Easy there, kitty-cat! My doctor said no stress, so why don’t you tuck your claws away and come warm up? Neela, would you mind fixing us something to eat? I have a feeling tonight’s going to be interesting.”
Prax raises a brow at me. I smile and nod. He vanishes, only to return moments later with Pallas in his arms.
“Well, look at that,” Hans grins. “Now that’s company! Is this everyone?”
“No. My reptile friend is still outside,” Prax says.
I freeze. Why is he bringing up Bully?
“A reptile friend?” Hans chuckles. “Then again, I didn’t know panther-men were a thing, so why not lizard-men too? Tell me, is that real?”
Just like that, Prax’s fur smooths back into place. He was testing Hans—for any hint of a connection to Bully. Apparently, he passes.
An hour later, the three of us are sitting around a steaming pot of lentil and watercress stew, telling Hans the whole story.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “That Vassili guy—hasn’t anyone learned from the past? They really think they’ll do better than our ancestors?”
“Maybe the Confed’s been too harsh on the settlers,” Prax says. “You have access to all these remnants of former glory but none of the means to use them. That must be frustrating.”
“Maybe. But I’d rather live simply and stay sane. I don’t need much at my age. So you’re headed to Arabia Terra to see Naoto?”
“We were,” I say. “We hoped he’d help us once he understood the situation.”
Hans frowns. “Oh, sweet girl… Naoto passed away in early fall. Took a bad fall. The new guy’s Do-yun Lee. Korean fellow. Not that it matters, but he’s… not exactly warm and fuzzy.”
My stomach sinks. Naoto had a reputation for fairness and compassion. Do-yun? Total unknown.
“What’s he like?” I ask.
“Can’t say. I keep to myself since Greta died. Don’t hear much.”
“Anything on channel 59?” Prax tries.
“Eh, I’m more into old Earth westerns. The dry landscapes remind me of Arabia in summer.”
I nod—yeah, I get the appeal.
“What about gossip radio?” I ask. “Surely someone’s spying on their neighbors.”
“Try the kitchen. Channel 23. But I’ve never heard a peep about Do-yun. Nothing good, nothing bad.”
That’s actually reassuring. No gossip usually means no drama.
I turn on the receiver and tune to channel 23. As expected, the signal’s weak this far out.
“…shht… never makes a move…shtt… wish he’d say something… pretty eyes…”
Two women, clearly gossiping about some guy who’s too shy to confess.
I grab the mic. “Hey girls, don’t worry—he’ll make his move. Be patient!”
“…you think?…shht…”
“Absolutely! By the way… what do you think of Do-yun?”
“…the manager?…crht… not my type, sorry!… he your kind?”
“Maybe! Is he single? Nice?”
“…meh… Genny tried… gave up. Not interested.”
“Anything else about him? Secrets?”
“…hard of hearing…crshht… far away?”
“A little,” I say, used to these patchy conversations.
“Do-yun’s private… that’s all…crshhtt…”
“Forget it,” Prax murmurs in my ear. “You won’t learn anything that way.”
I nod silently and switch off the transceiver, feeling a bit frustrated that we didn’t get a more detailed description of our upcoming contact. Then again, I remind myself that keeping a low profile is probably a good sign—especially compared to Vassili’s flair for the dramatic.
“There’s actually a better way to get info right from the source,” Hans chimes in.
“There are some neighbors about six miles from here—Constantin and Anatoli. The latter used to work for Naoto for quite some time. Well… I guess now he’s under Do-yun.
I can take you there tomorrow morning, if you’d like. ”
“That sounds perfect,” Prax agrees right away.
And he’s right—if Anatoli was close to Naoto, chances are we can trust him.
Hans chuckles. “None of my business. Neela’s a beautiful young lady. Just keep the noise down, alright? At my age, unusual sounds interrupt my sleep.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Prax promises.
“Most interesting evening I’ve had in a decade. What about the manul?”
“Pallas stays with us!” I say firmly. Prax rolls his eyes.
I gently scoop up my little manul, who’s fast asleep, and place him on a cushion in the corner of the room with all the tenderness he deserves.
Within seconds, a pair of warm, furred arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me into a familiar, protective hold.
Once again, Prax buries his face in the crook of my neck, seeking out that sensitive spot he knows so well.
When his tongue glides slowly over that precise area, a deep shiver sparks at the base of my spine and ripples all the way down to my toes.
“Hans…” I begin, trying—weakly—to appeal to reason and perhaps discourage my sensual tormentor.