26. Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Early in that stretch, a few days after the terrace collapsed beneath me, Malek and I followed the upper-stream trail after an early photography session.
The previous night's rain had left the stones near the water slick, and the stream ran faster and browner than usual around exposed roots and moss-darkened rock.
My boots were already damp from a shallow crossing farther downstream, and I was choosing my footing while keeping one hand around the camera resting against my chest.
“Left side.” Malek warned from behind me in his normal voice, his attention dropping toward the stones near my next step while his hands remained at his sides. I shifted my boot left and watched the darker stone I'd nearly chosen wobble beneath the water when the current pushed against it.
“Good catch.” I told Malek as I stepped onto the flatter stone and glanced back at him, immediately noticing that he hadn't moved any closer.
“That one's loose.” Malek explained as he followed me across, placing his own foot on the same stable section I'd used without making anything more of the situation.
There was no Voice and no hand suddenly locking around my waist. He hadn't turned one frightening afternoon into an excuse to hover every time I walked near water or uneven ground.
Malek had given me a normal warning, I'd changed my step because I chose to, and we kept moving while the stream rushed beside us and a bird called repeatedly from somewhere higher in the canopy.
I thought about the difference for the rest of the hike because there was nothing else to discuss.
He'd listened, and he'd shown me that instead of making me hear another promise.
The courtship continued too.
Luca's was quiet enough that I sometimes only recognized it after the fact.
He replaced a cracked seal on one of my dry boxes after showing me the damage and asking whether I wanted him to do it, added padding to a strap that had started rubbing my shoulder raw, and somehow kept food appearing around the time I realized I'd forgotten to eat.
When he noticed one of my battery cables beginning to split near the connector, he set it beside my hand rather than replacing it without asking.
“This one's going.” Luca told me as he bent the damaged section carefully between two fingers, exposing the beginning of a crack in the outer coating.
“I have a spare at the station.” I answered Luca as I took the cable from him and checked the damage myself, already deciding it wasn't worth risking another charge cycle.
“Want me to put this one aside so you don't grab it by mistake?” Luca asked as he kept his hand open beside the table, leaving even the obvious solution for me to approve.
“Please.” I told Luca as I handed it back, appreciating that he'd learned the difference between helping me and simply deciding something for me.
Malek continued joining me on routes, grooming my hair when we settled for the night, and scenting me whenever I leaned toward him or otherwise made the invitation clear.
Sometimes he walked beside me for an hour without saying much, but he listened when I talked about the work, remembered which species I was looking for, and had stopped asking whether every difficult route was necessary once he'd understood that difficult didn't automatically mean reckless.
Tavian still brought food, accompanied me where it made sense, touched me whenever I welcomed it, and presented me with small things he apparently considered valuable enough that I should own them.
One afternoon, he stopped beside the worktable with one hand closed around something.
Afternoon light reached through the open shutters behind him, catching warm reddish tones in his nearly black hair, and there was a smear of dirt along one forearm that suggested he'd been somewhere off the main path.
“I was saving this for you.” Tavian told me as he opened his palm and revealed a smooth dark stone, the usual easy confidence in his face giving way to something more uncertain while he waited for me to take it.
I took the stone and turned it over between my fingers.
One surface had been worn almost perfectly smooth, while a faint lighter line crossed one edge.
It was cool from his palm at first, then warmed quickly beneath my thumb.
“Saving it from what?” I asked Tavian as I rubbed my thumb across the polished side and looked back at him.
“Bad timing.” Tavian answered as he shifted his weight and glanced briefly toward my shelf. Luca was checking the zipper on one of my camera cases at the far end of the table, his long hair tied loosely away from his face.
“He's been carrying it around for weeks.” Luca informed me without looking up from the case, his tone entirely matter-of-fact while Tavian turned toward him.
“You didn't need to tell her that.” Tavian told Luca as his mouth flattened, though there was more embarrassment than irritation in his voice.
“Weeks?” I asked Tavian as I closed my fingers around the stone and gave him my full attention.
“I found it before you really started putting your things here.” Tavian admitted as he rubbed his thumb along the side of his palm where the stone had been. “Luca told me not to put it on your shelf myself.”
“He was right.” I told Tavian as I glanced toward the shelf and then back at him.
“I know.” Tavian replied without arguing, his voice quieter now.
“That's why I waited.” The answer made me look at him more carefully.
Tavian didn't often hesitate over giving me something.
Seeds, shells, fruit, leaves—he normally handed them over with the confidence of a man who had already decided they were excellent gifts and my agreement was merely confirmation.
This was different.
“You could've handed it to me then.” I told Tavian as I rolled the stone between my fingers, feeling the shallow ridge where the lighter line crossed one side.
“I could have.” Tavian agreed as his amber eyes dropped toward it. “I wanted you to have somewhere you actually wanted to keep it first.”
There was no joke waiting behind the statement. He'd found something he wanted to give me, understood that my shelf and my space weren't his to fill, and carried the ridiculous stone around until I had started using that space myself.
I walked over to the shelf and placed it beside the finished field notebook. The dark stone sat between the worn corner of the notebook and my spare memory-card case, obviously unrelated to either one and somehow completely at home there.
“There.” I told Tavian as I adjusted it once before stepping back. “Now it has a place.”
“Good.” Tavian replied as his shoulders relaxed, his attention resting on the stone for another second before returning to me. I didn't mention that he checked the shelf again before dinner. There was no need.
Sex hadn't ended any of their courtship, and neither had how comfortable we'd become with one another. They were still showing me what choosing them would look like without acting as though I'd already made the permanent choice.
The animals noticed the approaching end of my assignment before I wanted to think too hard about it.
I was sitting near the western courtyard one afternoon, cleaning fine dust from a lens after several hours photographing along the stream, when the scarlet macaw dropped onto a branch above the wall.
The stone beneath me still held some warmth from the afternoon, but shadows had begun stretching across the courtyard as the sun lowered behind the trees.
Frogs had already started calling from the wetter ground beyond the ruins, and the humid air smelled strongly of leaves and the river.
You leave soon, the macaw announced as it hooked its claws around the branch and stared down at me, its bright feathers puffing around its chest.
“Yes.” I answered the macaw as I continued moving the cleaning cloth carefully around the edge of the glass, checking the lens beneath the fading light.
Long leaving, the macaw complained as it leaned farther forward, opening and closing its beak once as though three months were a personal inconvenience.
“Three months.” I told the macaw as I capped the lens and set it beside me, still not certain what months meant from the perspective of a bird. The macaw clicked its beak several times before tilting its head.
You come back after long leaving? the macaw asked as it studied me, the usual loud amusement missing from its voice.
A few weeks ago, that question would've required more thought than I wanted to admit. I would've started separating work from the temple, the temple from the men, and wanting to return from promising I would.
This time the answer came easily.
“Yes. I'm coming back.” I told the macaw as I met its dark eye, no longer needing to qualify the answer for myself.
Good. Spotted ones become annoying when worried, the macaw decided as it straightened on the branch and resettled its wings.
“They're annoying when they're not worried.” I reminded the macaw as I reached for the next lens, hearing an offended sound from somewhere beyond the wall that might have been Tavian.
The macaw made a pleased clicking noise and flew away before Tavian could find out whether the insult had been directed at him.
The real countdown started during the final week.
For most of the assignment, my shot list had been something I was still adding to, correcting, and rearranging.
Now almost every line had a mark beside it.
The final river sequence was finished. The kingfisher reshoot had given me exactly what I'd wanted.
I'd gotten the motmot again from significantly safer ground and, after reviewing the files twice, decided I wasn't risking another attempt simply because one feather could have been sharper.