4338.209 · July 28, 2018 AD
The Grief He Couldn't Afford
Grief is a luxury that belongs to people who aren't responsible for what they're grieving. The rest of us have to keep moving. Luke races back to Clivilius expecting catastrophe. What he finds is stranger—a native hunter in leather armour, a shadow panther's corpse beside the cold campfire, and Paul's face doing something it shouldn't. The settlement survived the night. But survival and safety aren't the same thing, and some losses don't announce themselves until you see the blood on someone's hands.
The morning light paints Clivilius in pink and gold. Luke sprints through the dust, prayer and panic tangled together. Please let them be alive.
The camp still stands. A woman named Charity—a Chewbathian hunter born in this dimension—has killed one of the shadow panthers that surrounded their settlement in the night. The creature lies beside the cold campfire, its sleek black fur drinking the sunlight.
But Paul's face tells Luke something worse is coming.
Duke is dead. Jamie sits at the riverbank, the small dog's body cradled in his lap, blood staining his hands as he strokes fur that will never move again. When Luke tries to apologise, tries to touch the dog he loved, Jamie's grief transforms into something sharper.
You don't fucking deserve to touch him. Ever.
The soft part of Luke—the part that wants to collapse and mourn—will have to wait. His settlement needs protection now.
