CHAPTER ELEVEN THE MATE BEFORE ME
ROWAN
The Rootmaws moved on before dawn. Shaarr and I remained six body lengths apart until the forest stopped shaking. Neither of us mentioned the distance. Neither of us slept much.
By morning, his injured leg had stiffened badly enough that he had to brace one hand against the nest wall before standing. I watched. He caught me watching.
"No."
"I haven't said anything."
"Your face has."
"My face is medically trained."
"It is judgmental."
"Also trained."
He took one step. The leg nearly folded. I did not smile. That required genuine restraint. Shaarr looked at the exit, then at me, then extended one arm. Not an invitation exactly.
More like surrender filed under protest. I stepped beneath it. His weight settled across my shoulders.
"Temporary," he said.
"I know."
"Medical."
"Obviously."
"No implication."
I looked up at him.
"You're making this much stranger than it needs to be."
His chest produced a low vibration. Almost amusement. We climbed slowly. The western canopy had changed overnight. Rainwater collected in the damaged root channels. One nursery bridge sagged where the soil beneath its supports had shifted.
The forest looked intact until you knew where to look. Then the damage was everywhere. We reached an old watch platform near midday. Fresh water waited there.
Food. Bandages. No guardian. Shaarr recognized the arrangement.
"Vyrr."
"She left all this?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't she wait?"
"Privacy."
I looked around the empty platform.
"Everybody knows."
"Everyone with a functioning nose."
"Terrific."
He lowered himself beside the wall. A series of old carvings ran through the bark. I recognized one. Two paths crossing.
Then continuing beside each other.
"Bonded pair?"
Shaarr's hand stopped near the bandage roll.
"Yes."
"Same family as the abandoned nest?"
"No."
I should have stopped. The smart part of me did. Unfortunately, the rest spoke.
"Yours?"
His good eye lifted. For several seconds I thought he would tell me to mind my own business. Instead:
"Once."
The word landed strangely.
"You completed a bond?"
"No."
"But you activated."
"Yes."
My chest tightened. Stupid reaction. The man had lived a full life before I appeared. Apparently my nervous system had not been consulted about maturity. I looked at the carving again.
"His name?"
Shaarr went still. Then:
"Kael."
The name sounded old in his mouth. Not forgotten. Protected.
"Central territory?"
"Yes."
"What was he?"
"Hunter."
"Different from guardian?"
"Hunters move with large prey routes. Guardians remain tied to territory."
"So he hated staying still."
"Yes."
For the first time that morning, Shaarr looked almost young. Not physically. In memory.
"He was loud," he said.
I smiled.
"Bad hunting strategy."
"Very."
"Did you tell him?"
"Frequently."
"Did he care?"
"No."
I liked Kael immediately. That surprised me too. Shaarr touched the carving with one claw.
"He laughed at danger."
"That sounds unhealthy."
"It was."
"Still sounds fun."
His jaw plates shifted. Not amusement. Something sadder.
"He would have agreed with you."
The joke died. I sat across from him.
"What happened?"
Shaarr looked out over the damaged canopy.
"Territorial war."
The human word sounded wrong here. Still accurate.
"A central nursery was attacked. Kael returned to defend it."
"And you stayed west."
"Western borders were unstable."
"You split."
"We agreed to meet again in three days."
I knew before he finished.
"He died before then."
"On the second."
Nothing useful existed to say. So I didn't manufacture anything. Shaarr continued after a long silence.
"The receptor remained open for seven days."
My skin went cold.
"After he died."
"Yes."
"You knew?"
"Yes."
"And your body kept calling for him."
"Yes."
The cruelty of that lodged under my ribs. Seven days of biology refusing reality. No wonder Shaarr treated longing like a threat.
"What happened after?"
"It closed."
"Permanently."
"That was the judgment."
"Until me."
His gaze met mine.
"Until you."
There was no romance in the words. Not yet. Only fear wearing restraint. I understood him better.
That did not mean I knew what to do with it.
"You think if you refuse this early enough, you can't lose it."
His whole body hardened. Too far. I knew immediately.
"Forget I said that."
"You interpret quickly."
"Occupational hazard."
"You do not know what I think."
"No."
I stood and reached for my pack.
"My mistake."
He let me take three steps. Then:
"You are not entirely wrong."
I stopped. Did not turn immediately. When I did, Shaarr was looking at the old bond mark. Not me.
"I believed there would always be more time," he said.
That was all he gave. It was enough.