Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Eryon pulls me close and sinks us back into the hot spring.
The warmth of the pool washes over us. The sky above begins to blush with the first hues of dawn, dappled light filtering down to paint the scene in soft golds and pinks.
His heartbeat thumps beneath my ear as I rest against his chest, and for a moment, I wonder if this is what paradise feels like.
My jaw-cracking yawn breaks the peaceful silence, pulling a laugh from both of us as he mirrors mine with one of his own. I promised myself today would be the day I left, but the pull of this place, and the weight of my exhaustion, make it impossible to go just yet.
First, I need sleep. And I don’t know how I’m going to explain to Eryon that I need to go.
As he scoops me up bridal style, ignoring my insistence that I can walk yet again, I can’t help but take in the local flora, now painted with the soft hues of breaking dawn.
My gaze lingers on the plants clustered near the head of the spring, their delicate leaves and flowers catching the light.
Something about them tugs at my memory, and a frown creases my brow as my sex-addled brain tries to figure out why this plant seems so familiar.
The heart-shaped leaves, the compact growth, the star-shaped flowers nodding gently on their bent stems—the golden light of dawn highlighting their iridescent petals which are the exact blue-violet of my eyes.
My breath catches, and my heart stutters as the realization strikes with the force of the avalanche.
Silene vitalis. The name blooms in my mind, unbidden and impossible.
It’s all I can do to weakly pat his arm in protest. He walks on, up and out of the water, passing by the plant without a second glance while I’m left grappling with the impossible truth it holds.
“Eryon, stop,” I force out through the lump in my throat as I wriggle free from his grasp and slide to the ground.
Racing over to the plant, I collapse to my knees. With trembling fingers, I reach out and brush a leaf, and my breath catches. The key to everything I’ve searched for lies right here, within my reach. I never would have found it tucked away in this specialized microclimate. Never.
“Sruhnar,” he calls sharply.
The edge in his voice makes me snap my head around. My heart stutters as I take in his expression. He storms toward me, his eyes flashing with anger, each step radiating a force I can feel through the ground beneath me. But all I can think about is my discovery. Nothing else matters at this moment.
“This is the plant I was looking for. This is the entire reason I came to the mountains.” My voice cracks, a mixture of disbelief and relief flooding me. “I was going to have to leave to find it, but it’s been right here the whole time. I’ll need to take it with me.”
Frustration gnaws at me as I think over the supplies I lack.
Without my pack, I don’t have what I need to preserve and transport the plant properly.
I’ll need a sterile setup, something to keep it cool and prevent the enzymes from breaking down while I figure out the extraction process.
Maybe I should take a few plants, just to be safe.
I must have been mumbling my plan aloud to myself, the list of steps tumbling out under my breath, when Eryon interrupts me.
“No,” he says flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I glance up from the plant to meet his gaze. “No? What do you mean, no?”
He repeats it, more forcefully this time. “No.”
Confusion and frustration bubble up inside me. “I don’t understand. I just need a few plants for my research. Eryon, you have no idea how important this is. I can turn it into a medicine that could save lives. I need it.”
His expression hardens, his voice carrying an edge of finality. “This plant has already cost lives. Nothing can leave this basin. I am its protector, and I will not allow humans to destroy my family again.”
“What?” I gasp, stepping back, my confusion deepening. “Eryon, I thought you said you’d never brought a human here. What do you mean, ‘destroy your family again’?”
I shrink back further as his body begins to grow, his form swelling with raw power until he towers over me, his presence suffocating when just moments ago it had been… everything. We had been everything.
“Humans,” he snarls, his voice low and menacing.
“They take and destroy, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. Everywhere I go in the forest and the mountains, I see the damage they’ve caused.
Plastic water bottles tossed into streams. The skies choked with haze.
Forests full of ancient trees razed. Animals slaughtered for a few bites of meat, the rest of their bodies discarded as if their sacrifice meant nothing. ”
He starts to pace, his arms swinging wildly as his fury pours out.
“Humans believe they have dominion over the earth and exercise their right to take and take without giving anything back, no matter the cost. I’ve witnessed their greed and devastation right here in this very spot.
No, I didn’t bring a human here to this sacred place. ”
He punctuates his statement by slamming a fist against his chest, then shakes his great head, as if in disbelief.
“But my mate did. She brought a human here for that same flower. She was kind, always trying to help. Too trusting. He befriended her, gained her trust over time. The human told her he just needed one. Just one. Do you know how he repaid her trust? Do you know?”
His roar rips through the air, terrifying in its grief. The mountain shudders beneath me as if it quakes with his anger. His devastation. Even the plants tremble.
“He took the winter star. Not just one, but every single one he could find. She begged him not to, tried to explain that we needed it for our little snowling, who had fallen ill after the human’s first visit.
We didn’t realize, until it was too late, that a simple human sneeze would cost us our child’s life. ”
He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. “Yes, the winter star can save lives—ours and perhaps others. But it’s also taken them, and I’m not willing to sacrifice any more for this plant.”
He looks at me with cold fury, “Or for a human.”
The weight of his words devastate me. I am just trying to save myself and anyone else with this same disease. But now I can’t help but wonder what is the value of a life, human or otherwise? Is taking the plant worth his sacrifice? The plant, the research—is it worth all of this?
I remember the cave paintings—two Yetis, with a little furball nestled between them.
My heart aches for Eryon and his family.
The Silene vitalis had been cataloged and brought back to America nearly a century ago.
Only my searches on plant genetics and mass spectrometry coupled with my research in ethnobotany had led me down a rabbit hole to this plant.
My last hope.
“What happened to your mate?” I whisper as tears streak my face. As hurt as I am, I still need to know the rest of his story. The exact price of this flower.
“She couldn’t survive the loss of the snowling,” he says, voice cracking in anguish.
"Eryon, I’m so sorry for your family. I’m sorry about what humans have done and still do. For all the destruction we cause. But you don’t understand—I need this plant. This isn’t about taking or destroying—it’s about survival.”
My voice cracks, and I take a shaky breath before continuing, “My life is at stake. Without the Silene vitalis, I won’t make it.
I know it’s hard to trust humans, and I understand why you’d want to protect this place, this plant.
But please, don’t let my desperation make you think I’m like the ones who’ve hurt you. "
“Leave,” he growls, his eyes narrowing.
I slowly back away, struggling to my feet. “Leave?”
“This is the only reason you came here,” he spits, throwing my words back at me. “You’re no different from the others. You want to take it for yourself, and damn the consequences.”
His chest heaves with anger, but there’s something else—something raw beneath his words.
‘The only reason you came here,’ echoes in my mind.
I’ve reduced him, and whatever this is between us, to nothing more than a dalliance.
A fun little side quest in my search for the plant. My heart cracks under the weight.
“It took me decades to get this plant to repopulate, from the single one that was left, a small seedling he missed. The only thing that kept me going, the only thing that gave me hope, was the possibility of someday having another snowling. I did this for them. For my family. For my future. And now—” His voice cracks, and he deflates, falling hard to his knees.
The weight of his grief hangs in the air, a reminder of the sacrifices he’s made, and of what I’m threatening to take from him.
“Maybe you can still have a family, a snowling. I hope that for you, Eryon, I do. Not to replace the one you lost, but because I can see how important it is to you. I would never take all the plants. I would never try to hurt you,” I say.
Each word rings out with sincerity, but they fall hollow in the face of his grief.
“I’ve never seen another of my kind. I don’t deserve another family after I failed to protect them. But I am the sworn protector of this place, of the forest and the mountains. And I will not allow you to destroy all I have left,” he says.
“Eryon, I’ll die without the plant,” I say softly, my voice a whisper.
“Leave me here with my ghosts,” he growls, his voice cold and final. “The world is vast, but this corner is mine. Go find something else. I won’t be used, not again.”
I stagger back, as if struck by a blow. I never planned on using him. I didn’t deceive him. This was all an incredible, inexplicable coincidence. My chest throbs with the crushing weight of my failure.
Tears blur my vision as I stumble through the dark tunnels, the chill of the cave air seeping into my bones.
Each step on the hard stone feels like a betrayal, the echoes of my feet reminding me of the warmth I once had in his arms. With every step, I am more acutely aware of how I am more alone now than ever.
At last, I reach the sleeping cave, the space feeling colder and emptier than before.
I need clothes to leave this place in the dead of winter, but I have no idea where I am or how I can find my way back to town.
I slump down next to the fire, staring into the glowing coals, casting around for a plan.
The sudden appearance of Eryon makes me jump. He throws my pack at my feet and coldly says, “Get dressed.”
As I put my clothes on, I feel my wildness bleed away. I will be constrained by society, by my future, once again.
The tears drip steadily off my face until I’m snuffling. I cobble together an outfit from my pack, vaguely wondering how he found it. Pulling on my pants reminds me of when my old pair were looped around his body. Tying my boots with their mangled laces only reminds me of when he cut them off.
All the moments we shared, I thought they meant something. I foolishly thought I had been falling in love with a Yeti. Even stupider, I thought I was going to save my own life.
Instead, I will return home empty-handed again. To nothing. I have nothing.
I zip up my parka and shoulder my bag. The Migoi pulls it off my shoulders and throws it over one of his, the bright yellow pack looking comically small against him. He takes off, and I scramble to keep up with his long strides.
Before long, we emerge into the bright sunlight. I follow, squinting and struggling to keep my balance on the snowy path and match his pace. Every few minutes, I fall behind, and he stops to wait but never turns back to look at me.
We walk, and we walk. Finally, exhaustion takes over. My heart heavy with grief, I trip and sit down hard. There, on the cold, unforgiving ground, I stay, lacking the strength to go on.
When he realizes I’m not following him, he returns.
Our eyes meet in a hard stare. With a deep, frustrated sigh, he picks me up again.
I don’t want to sink into his warmth. I don’t want to curl my fingers into his thick white fur.
I don’t want to remember how this felt when he saved me.
In an ironic twist, he’s carrying me to my death.