Chapter 6 #2
Survival food. Designed for efficiency rather than pleasure.
He understood the concept, even if he couldn’t remember where he’d encountered it before.
He ate methodically, consuming the bland substance with the same focus he applied to everything else.
She watched him with a satisfied expression, and he found himself studying her in return.
Her face was interesting. Not beautiful by any standard he could remember, but compelling in a way that repeatedly drew his attention.
Her small features were mobile and expressive, broadcasting her thoughts with a clarity that would be dangerous among his own kind.
He could read her uncertainty, her curiosity, and her exhaustion, all written plainly for anyone to see.
You would not survive long among dragons.
The thought came a flash of memory—scales and wings and voices raised in challenge, the thunder of bodies colliding in mid-air. His people. His kin.
Gone.
The certainty of it washed over him in a tide of regret, and he nearly choked on the food in his mouth. All of them were gone. Gone for so long that even their memory had faded, leaving only this broken body, this fragmented mind, and this tiny shelter on a world that no longer remembered his name.
My name.
He grasped at the thought, desperate for something solid to hold onto. He had a name. He knew he had a name. It was there, buried beneath the pain and confusion, waiting to be remembered.
Ad… Adjar.
My name is Adjar.
The relief of remembering threatened to overwhelm him and he closed his eyes, letting the knowledge settle into him, anchoring him to himself in a way nothing else had since he’d awakened. He was Adjar. Keeper of Memory. One of the males entrusted with—
The memories cut off again, leaving him grasping at shadows. He knew there was more, but it wouldn’t come. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
But he had his name. That was something.
When he opened his eyes, she was watching him with an expression of concern. She had moved closer while his attention was elsewhere, though she stopped when she saw him looking.
“Are you all right? You looked like you were hurting.”
Hurt. Yes. But not the physical kind. The wounds on his body were nothing compared to the void where his memories should be, the emptiness that echoed every time he tried to remember who he was and why he was here.
He wanted to tell her. He wanted to explain what he was experiencing and make her understand that the male she had rescued was more lost than she could possibly imagine.
But the words wouldn’t come, either because his grasp of her language was still too tenuous, or because some instinct warned him against revealing weakness.
Instead, he returned his attention to the food, consuming the last of it with mechanical efficiency. When the container was empty, he held it out to her and looked at her expectantly.
She seemed to understand, mimicking the eating gesture again. “More? You want more?”
He nodded—a gesture that still felt foreign but seemed to convey his meaning—and watched as she went to retrieve another packet.
But this time, he paid closer attention to her actions.
He watched as she checked the remaining supplies, her fingers lingering on packets she didn’t open.
He watched as her expression tightened slightly before smoothing into careful neutrality.
There is not much left.
The realization made him wince. Her supplies were limited, and she was giving him a significant portion of what remained. She was feeding him at her own expense, depleting her reserves to keep him alive.
Why?
The question was even more urgent now. He was a stranger.
A threat, potentially. And she was choosing to starve herself rather than let him go hungry.
She returned with another packet, already opening it, and he found himself reaching out to stop her.
His hand closed around her wrist again—gently this time, careful not to bruise—and she froze.
“What—”
He gestured towards the packet, then towards her, hoping the meaning was clear. You. Eat.
Her expression shifted through confusion to understanding to something that looked almost like amusement. “I’m fine. I already ate while you were sleeping.”
Lie. He could hear it in the slight acceleration of her heartbeat and smell it in the chemical shift of her scent. She hadn’t eaten. Or if she had, it wasn’t enough. He released her wrist and pushed the packet back towards her, his intention unmistakable.
“Jaz. Food.” The words came out hoarse but clear, and for a long moment, she just stared at him. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a delighted smile.
“You spoke. And you remembered my name. What is yours?” She pointed at his chest.
“Adjar,” he said impatiently. “Jaz. Food.”
She shook her head, a smile still curving her lips. “You’re a stubborn male, Adjar. That’s… actually kind of reassuring. I was starting to worry you were some kind of perfect test subject.”
Test subject. The words triggered a flash of memory, bright and painful, but it slipped away before he could grasp it. He filed the term away for later examination and focused on the immediate situation.
She was still holding the packet, but she finally sighed and tore it open, pouring half the contents into a second container.
“Fine. We’ll split it.”
The action resonated with something deep in his chest, something that had nothing to do with hunger or survival. She was treating him as an equal. Negotiating rather than commanding. Respecting his wishes even when she clearly thought he was being foolish.
He inclined his head slightly and watched as she settled onto a nearby surface to eat her share. She looked even smaller from this angle, bent over her container with exhaustion written in every line of her body.
Too small. The thought came again, but this time it brought something else with it. In need of protection.
The instinct rose from somewhere deep within him, fierce and undeniable. This strange, soft, impossibly brave female had risked her own survival to save his. She had given him shelter, care, and food. She had looked at him without flinching, spoken to him without fear, and treated him kindly.
She is mine to protect now.
The certainty of it settled into his bones, ancient and immutable. He didn’t understand it, but he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. He would not let harm come to her.
She glanced up from her food, catching him watching her, and tilted her head curiously.
“You’re staring.”
He didn’t look away. After a moment, she shook her head slightly, but he caught the hint of color that rose to her cheeks before she turned back to her food.
Interesting.
He filed this observation away with all the others, adding it to his growing catalogue of information about this female who had saved his life. He would learn her language. He would understand this world and his place in it.
But first, he would heal. He would rest and let her tend to his wounds, and he would watch her carefully, looking for any sign that she was depleting herself too far.