Sunundra dragged herself out of bed, wisps of events from the moon before tugging at her thoughts. She debated about if it would be acceptable to ask about the... No, it was a private conversation. If she wished to keep her own secrets, then the male could have his. If anything, it was rude for her to have listened as long as she did… Besides, knowing that her temporary den-mate truly held no animosity towards her was a salve for her soul, but it brought context to the idea that he was alone, even if it wasn’t in quite the way she had thought.

Her assumption was that he shared the same circumstance as her—isolated and bereft of affection—but the communication suggested otherwise. He was still separated, but it was likely that one of his mates was waiting for his presence wherever he was from. The discovery soothed her concern for the other who treated her kindly, and yet also stoked a fear that had spent but a fraction of time quenched.

A fear which waited beneath the tentative excitement at finding more than distaste for her presence.

He would leave again, the male returning to his pack, while she would be left to face the consequences of her twisted defect amongst those who had already despised her… And she would do it alone.

That was fine! She would just make the most of the situation and use what she learned to make a friend here while she could. Her condition wasn’t even mentioned in passing, which was promising. Maybe their people simply didn’t mind? As strange as it would be, she hardly suffered for such a peculiarity in the alien species—she could hope at least, ignoring how often such backfires.

As long as she had hope…

The shreds of optimism allowed her the energy to get dressed for the sun, donning a rather plain set of attire that was typically used for ‘relaxation’ between deployments; a pair of deep crimson pants were made of durable fabric, and the black sleeveless top fit her form snugly. Boring as far as clothing goes, but adequate enough.

Her door opened to the rest of the den as Bill was leaving the kitchen with two plates of food—the one devoid of any yeasty items compensating with extra meat. His brows raised in surprise, a small smile shaping his lips as he greeted her in a gentle voice.

“G’morning, miss.”

“G-greetings,” she replied absently, watching the male set the larger table. Even accepting that the kindness he offered wasn’t so fleeting, she held her breath in anticipation.

Truthfully, she wasn't quite prepared to jump into interactions with him. Before, she could use the same mindset and carry her heart behind a shield of false confidence and insincere whispers of success. Now that actual progress wasn’t just a passing wish, but something that might be gained, the weight of her words turned her tongue into lead, each utterance carrying the burden of being one which might ruin the possibility of more.

How far would her spirits fall if she failed the first true chance at something beyond mere tolerance?

He gestured to one of the chairs and walked back through the archway again, the sound of pouring liquid following. Hesitantly, she complied to the silent request, taking a seat in front of what she assumed to be her plate while wrapping her tail around her waist to keep it out of the way. He returned after a few moments, placing a glass of clear liquid alongside both meals before taking the spot across from her.

“It kind of occurred to me that we should go over your actual dietary needs,” he started with a casual lilt, shifting his seat closer to the table.

Satisfied with the positioning, he offered a smile and used a fork to spear a strip of meat that looked to have been fried. He popped it in his mouth, holding a finger up to request a moment, letting his wrist hang limply when he was finished.

“It’s better than just knowing what you do or don’t like, since it gives us a starting point. Humans, for example, are omnivores, so we can eat pretty much whatever we can get down—as long as it doesn’t kill us, anyway. Now, just because we can doesn’t mean we should; after all, someone ate an entire plane once, and you won’t see that on the dietary requirements.”

Sunundra selected the same item he had chosen off her plate curiously, pausing before taking a bite. She blinked as his words registered. “A...plane?”

“Close! Airplane.” He chuckled, the laughter bolstering at her visible confusion. “Please tell me that puns translate. That was too good.”

A moment of mentally reviewing the progression with the unaided vocalizations had her smiling shyly. “It appears they do not, but I understand now.”

“Bah. That’s no fun.”

A giggle slipped out of her as he made a show of grumbling and starting on his meal fully. How strange it was for such a simple interaction to ease her toiling mind.

“Your people eat aircraft?” she asked, frowning at the thought as she tried to withhold judgement at such a strange possibility. “Is it a cultural tradition?”

The male smirked, shaking his head. “No, but someone wanted to—or he might have had a disorder, though I don't remember. I'm not sure what the time frame was, but he had it cut into small enough pieces and eventually managed to do the whole thing. Anyway, no, but we can eat whatever fits, for the most part. Minus the random oddball tossing glass or screws in their mouth, we typically do meat, veg, fruit, some minerals, and trace metals in food. What about you?”

She sampled another item on her plate, enjoying the fatty taste of the meat strips. “We are primarily carnivores. Vegetables and fruits are acceptable additions to some meals in smaller quantities…though they are not substitutes. Such may suffice for shorter durations in times of hardship.”

“I can work with that. More meat, less everything else, avoid bread... Alright.” He grew a teasing grin, pointing at her with his fork. “You’ll be missing out on a few of my favourites though.”

The pale-furred female shook her head in amusement, pausing when she realized that they were actually eating together. An odd thing to note, but...

“You okay?” She looked up from her food to see Bill covering his mouth with his wrist. “You looked...down, I guess. Don’t like it?”

Her paws moved to rectify the issue, grabbing a white elliptical item. An egg? “Apologies, I was merely attempting to recall how long it had been since I have shared a meal with another.”

He frowned contemplatively, slowing further chewing to a crawl before finally swallowing. “Should we not? I don’t want to force it or anything. I don’t know how your culture does meal times.”

“We...” She cycled a breath, offering a smile that was smaller than she would have liked. “No, communal meals are a trait I assume we share.”

“But you eat alone usually?” he voiced softly, his tone lacking a judgmental edge. The silent bow of her head had him hum in thought. “I take it you’d rather that? I can—“

“—No,” Sunundra interrupted. It was short and clipped, yet she managed to withhold the flash of panic. She shrank in embarrassment at the outburst. “N-no, this is fine.”

The male gazed at her with curiosity and...pity, the expression banished and replaced with a wry smile. “Good. Eating alone is nice sometimes, but I prefer a full table.”

She nodded her agreement, the wistful air to his statement adding to all the other questions she had. Bill picked one of the yeasty items on his plate—either ‘toast’ or ‘waffles,’ she wasn’t sure of the distinction yet—and took a bite, his long breath telling of one query abandoned for another.

“So how did you end up enrolled in the program? Something tells me that this wasn't planned or anything.”

Her claws stopped over the next item as she debated about how to answer. “I...am repaying a debt.”

“Debt?” His interested cadence faltered, a hasty reassurance taking its place. “If you want to talk about it, I mean. I was just curious.”

“The Union proposed it as compensation. They claimed to possess a method to...fix that which was malfunctioning.”

The male rolled his eyes upwards in thought, then returned his regard to her with a shrug. “They have a lot of random technology. I won’t ask what, but are you better now? Or it. Whichever.”

A bitter smirk spread on her muzzle. “...No.”

“Oh, uh… I’m sorry to hear that, miss. I didn’t mean to pry.”

A silence lingered between them, Bill’s conflicted expression bringing the atmosphere of the room down with it. He cleared his throat.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here myself.”

She perked an ear, the mental murmur of her own failure to maintain her welcoming tone abating as curiosity took over. “I must admit, I never much wondered why one such as yourself would be here.”

He snorted in his somewhat dry amusement. “Money.”

“Is the compensation so extravagant?” she queried, musing how much something like this would even offer. If he had his pack waiting for him and he was required to be alone, surely it must be a truly considerable amount. She was unsure if she would have given up even the pitiful interactions she had for this; only the promise of an existence less sorrowful drew her here. Was Bill the same?

“No,” he admitted, laying down his cutlery on the empty plate and grabbing his glass of water. He leaned back in his chair, his posture suggesting he was sated, but not eased. “It was a ‘last minute’ change in plans. I was supposed to work near Sol—some sort of construction gig—but the boss’ contract had a legal fallout. He asked the crew if they wanted to do a different job, or he could bring us back.”

“And you chose to accept?”

“Yeah,” Bill sighed, a tint of doubt creeping into his voice. “I didn’t have much in the way of options; it paid more than what we were initially going to get, but it also involved going much further out than I had intended.”

She tried to stymie her curiosity, but the words flowed despite her wishes. “I would imagine it is rather difficult to be away from your pack.”

He hummed—first in understanding, then in confusion. He brought a claw to his ear. “Huh...”

“A-apologies...”

“No, it’s not you.” The male waved a paw, his gaze wandering the ceiling. “That word carries a lot of meanings, which kind of screws with the translation. It’s pretty good with context usually. I’m honestly not quite sure what you mean.”

She blinked, befuddled about how such a simple— Ah. Alien. “Your den?”

He frowned, tilting his head in mild concession. “Less confusing, but still loaded. Both have ‘hierarchy,’ ‘family,’ and ‘loyalty’ tags in the lexicon, but... Man, I don’t envy whoever the linguists for this are.”

Sunundra wilted in her chair, looking down at the excess of fruits she found undesirable to consume for the moment. It was strange to her for such ingrained concepts to only be expressed through its components, and frustrating that it caused a barrier between them.

Any further attempt to explain was muted by a jarring buzzer emitting from the exit. She looked over her shoulder, reading the order on the door as she internally debated if it had saved her from knowledge which might burden her, or merely stoked her curiosity.

“I am to report for a medical evaluation,” she relayed with a forced sigh, unwilling to admit to herself that she perhaps was placing too much importance on his response to a question that may have been somewhat invasive. Bill raised a brow, but smiled lightly regardless, pushing his chair out with his legs as he stood.

“You go ahead. I’ll clean up here.”

Though she wanted to argue that she should be helping, the instructions stated she was to leave shortly, and it would reflect poorly if she were to appear ungrateful for the efforts expended for her…'benefit.’ She nodded politely all the same. “Apologies. I am grateful for the meal and your time.”

His stiff expression softened, a guilty inflection to his voice. “You’re welcome, miss. Sorry to bother you with all the questions.”

Her protest went unvoiced, the pale-furred female resigning herself to simply preparing for her departure. How strange it was to feel so contrite because she had offered so little information.

- - - - -

Pain. The pain just got worse with every step and every breath.

The hallways Sunundra travelled through were as empty as the last time she left, but this time they had taken her to a section that was much wider. The gym wasn’t something she had been expecting, but it also wasn’t a complete enigma to her; she did the training regimens required of her at the base, then elected to modify the routines to be completed in her room after the others made it clear she was unwelcome. It came with the unfortunate side effect of never really surpassing her previous bests for most exercises.

Running though? Running had never been her strong suit. She typically designed her explosives to be directional so that she need not flee quite as far.

The treadmill they provided in the large room was rather…unforgiving; it forced her to sprint at full speed until her lungs threatened to collapse, then only dialed back enough so that she didn’t drop dead. Admittedly, that wasn’t an outcome she would have protested against the other sun, but now…

Her arm became an ashen black pit of torture as her heart rate increased, pushing fresh blood through the bruised skin hidden beneath the grey and seared fur. Yet it remained whole and unburned, merely agitated by the additional stress provoking whatever caused the sensation of chunks being ripped out of her perception of self.

As soon as she had been exhausted by a Void-driven routine, she was directed to place the limb in an odd machine for a blood sample. After recalling that Bill experienced much the same, she complied, a sharp pinch bringing forth a gasp as something pierced her flesh. Try as she might, the contraption gripped her limb too tightly for her to dislodge it prematurely. Several long moments had passed before she was finally freed, then she was left light-headed for the trouble, a new focus joining the all-encompassing burn. The screen on the wall offered only hollow gratitude for her cooperation before dismissing her.

And so, her lethargic footsteps carried her back to the den which she shared with the strange ‘human,’ thoughts of how to interpret his words and what she should do influencing her mind, while the flares of agony blinded her. She had forgotten to apply a patch in her urge to socialize, then needed to prepare for the physical evaluation. She hadn’t remembered how overeager her actions were until the sting started.

Now that sting had become a maelstrom of blades cutting away underneath her weary flesh. She chased after and distracted herself with any musings of Bill, because anything else carried darker thoughts along with it. At least she held a chance at something beyond disdain with him.

Each conversation the alien male allowed—no matter how brief—unveiled new layers of deflection and secrecy, yet she couldn’t find it within herself to distrust him. Granted, she held quite a few details close to her chest, but where Sunundra hid herself behind half-truths, Bill simply requested privacy with his tone. It made her all the more curious, yet hesitant. The crux of the issue was that she had little idea what a proper den actually was, and a pack which wished for you was but a concept others partook in—something she was never to have or witness personally. Should she question more? Should she seek his company?

So many uncertainties. So many points of failure waiting for her to reach them.

The haze had lightened somewhat as she approached the alloy entrance to where more than herself resided, yet it never truly cleared—the occasional stumble and paw bracing against the featureless corridors were a testament to that. Every beat of her heart intensified the hammering drum of acid and salt that scoured fresh unseen wounds, intensifying every flash of blinding pain until gasping for breath was an exercise in commitment to more suffering. The only saving grace was that the door of her den opened automatically, allowing her to nudge it closed again and hobble to the couch before collapsing atop of it.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Spinning. Everything was spinning and she hated it. The Void screamed at her from the inside, demanding another faithful to sate its unending hunger. It tore at her, muscle and bone cracked and shredded.

Yet she was whole. Whole, but fading. Consciousness leaving as the tendrils of the Void wrapped and clutched her throat. The blackness crept and crawled over her vision, plugged and deafened her ears.

Then, as all else was lost, a pinkish hue coloured her blurred sight, a scent both heavy and warm filling her lungs.

The black wasn’t quite so terrifying…

- - - - -

A groan. It was quiet, but it took a moment before she registered it as of her own doing. An attempted wince barely moved anything, her body ignoring the demand to rise. It was too much. She was too tired. Too weak.

A bleary eye cracked just the slightest amount.

The boring outlines of her room came into focus, the closet sitting just on the edge of her periphery. She didn’t remember making it to her bed, but the soft material conformed to her shape regardless, a thin blanket placed over her to only leave her head exposed. A cool sensation sat on her forehead and spread to the space between her ears—cold, but not uncomfortably so. She shifted to view more of her surroundings, breathing in to spite the latent survival instincts demanding she be perfectly still to avoid a threat in her pitiful state.

A few things were noticed at once, but her mind chose two it deemed to be most important to focus on before the rest. The first was that Bill had brought a folding chair and table in, setting them up alongside her place of rest. A terminal sat atop the portable surface, the screen updating in text as he entered something into it, then changing as he referenced something else. A bowl of pureed food was next to the device, partially empty. A glass of cold water resided on the other side, a bent straw held in place by ice cubes. The alien male looked tired and worried, but remained diligent in his task.

Her mind processed the second oddity: the smell.

Perhaps it was due to being in a den with him since he arrived, or perhaps it was due to her slow acclimation to it over the initial attempt at hiding away, but the short absence made it more noticeable now that she had gone without. It…calmed her. It was a potent scent—heady and thick—but comforting in its warmth and uniformity. It was so unlike anything else that she could only compare it to him. It was mildly distressing, yet rooted in stability just the same.

Strange, yet…right. She was feeble—unable to defend nor flee—yet the male triggered not fear, but serenity. She was safe. She had another to assist.

She was not alone?

The male exhaled slightly louder as he stretched his back, a soft pop preceding the relaxation of his form. He bent over, the sound of water splashing against more leading to him sitting upright with a wringed cloth. He reached out absently and replaced the apparent source of soothing coolness with a new one. The disruption caused her ear to flick, the thin shell batting at the furless claws and drawing his somewhat amused gaze. His eyes widened a fraction as they met her own.

“Hey,” he cooed softly. “How are you feeling?”

Her voice failed to function, producing barely more than a small squeak. He placed a paw to her cheek, the pad of a claw stroking her jaw in steady, smooth lines.

“Shh. You passed out. Here.” He offered the glass of water, the bent straw resting against her lips before she accepted. The cold liquid eased the dry burn of her throat. He held it perfectly still, the soft caress of her fur continuing in soothing motions as she sated a need gone unnoticed. The drink was moved away the moment she had enough despite her lack of input, replaced by a spoon holding the pureed meat. She obliged without thinking, melting into the touch through her confusion as the thick slurry placed little strain on the weakened muscles in her throat.

This repeated for a while, though she was unable to hazard a guess at how long due to the ebb and flow of wakefulness. She would blink, and he would seem to have moved. She would shift, and he would be absent. She would gasp in pain, and he would caress her coat, having returned to her side with the same gentle concern.

He alternated between giving her water and food, replacing the cloth which cooled her once more, the previous application warmed beyond what he deemed acceptable. Her form was too worn to protest, surrendering to the strangely practiced motions of the male. Every action of his spoke of a routine long since ingrained, his expression carrying a soft smile and strained eyes, as if witnessing her in such a worthless state brought not irritation, but painful memory.

It…saddened her. Relief that she had woken was shadowed by a vicious suffering that threatened to repeat… Threatened to strike again. To swallow her whole.

Yet his touch remained, spreading affection and care with every slow travel of the claw across her features. Her pain was forgotten—present, yet deemed unworthy of her notice.

All that existed in that moment was him.

A blurry edge to her vision was noticed by her unexpected caretaker, his claws brushing under her eyes to remove the dampness as his tortured smile remained like a mournful beacon in the Void. She knew not exactly why she silently cried, but it pulled at her… Unlike the wishful embrace of the endless expanse, this grasped at her fragmented heart gingerly, collecting each piece with kindness and whispering how beautiful it would be when assembled once more. It whispered voiceless words devoid of meaning, yet filled with intent. It whispered acceptance and affection in a language unknown, yet intrinsically understood.

It whispered. She listened.

Darkness claimed the room as her eyelids struggled to remain open despite her struggle, his voice and scent carrying her into the depths of the black that did not tear at her, for it was too busy embracing her with a gentle touch.

“Sleep. I’ll be here. You’re not alone.”

Where her form failed to weep, her soul succeeded.

- - - - -

Pain, but less. It spread from her core to her limbs, then ran back to the source, dulled and diluted. Her breath drew confusion, yet it was stifled by the return of the scent which previously remained in the background.

Bill.

She huffed, taking in the soothing scent that leaked off him, her mind too blurry to question why it seemed so similar to the moon he claimed it to be unpleasant. Her vision gained definition with a few laboured blinks.

“How are you feeling?”

She focused on the male next to her bed, his terminal powered off on the table. “Apologies. I am merely…tired.”

He chuckled, the sound making the suffering and throbbing pain easier to manage. “Do you want me to get you something for that?”

Her silent nod drew a wince, but he simply smiled and patted the bed, walking out of the room and presumably into the kitchen. She faded in and out of coherency until he returned with a pale yellow drink.

“Here. I’m guessing they took more than they should have. The apple juice should bring your sugars back up and help hydrate you.”

Her feeble attempts to grab for the items earned a softer expression from the male as he produced a straw for the beverage, bending the end and holding it near her muzzle. With a word of encouragement, she obliged, sipping at the cold liquid that somehow revitalized her very core. Once she felt awake enough, she sat up with some aid from the male, resting her back against the wall as she held the glass. Bill took back his spot on the folding chair, watching her with a patient kindness.

She paused half way through the beverage, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye to see him raise his brows in an idle show of interest. A sense of shame surfaced within her for being so pathetic as to need such diligent care, yet she was overwhelmed with…something. “I must express my gratitude for your assistance.”

He shook his head with a dismissive wave of his paw. “It was nothing, miss. I was just worried, and well… I’m glad you seem better.”

A silence lingered between them as curiosity outbid the odd feeling in her chest. “You seem rather accustomed to the task of tending to others. Was that your profession?”

The polite and soft smile faltered, a downcast expression following his gaze falling to the floor. A sombre tint to his response broke the quiet atmosphere. “Well, no. I guess I just got used to it over the years.” He gestured towards the nearly empty glass. “Refill?”

Her hesitation was overruled by the remaining stiffness in her muscles. “I would be grateful if you would.”

“Not a problem. More apple? Or would you rather water?”

“Water, if possible.”

Bill offered a playful wink over the weak grin. “Coming right up.”

She regained more of her faculties during his short absence, checking herself for injuries and wincing once she brushed over the site where blood was drawn for a sample. A quick bend to grab her bag and to apply a pain-patch finally stifled the uncomfortable sting. It was nice to finally have the mental space to think with the sensation so dulled. Of course, her thoughts drifted to her new den-mate instantly, revolving around the look in his eyes and the gentleness of his touch upon her fur.

It was…new. New, yet old. Far beyond the dreams of what a true den might one sun be, yet reminiscent of events long since passed. The love that poured through a gaze at a younger form of herself—a form unmarred by the defect. A dedication that would last until the Void, and perhaps it would continue regardless.

Unlike her memory, the new was not directed towards her, but nor did it fade. She had merely bathed in echoes of that which was meant for another. She worried that it would spell a bitter end to the developing acceptance, but a deep part of her drank it in heavily. It absorbed and hoarded it, all but hissing at the thought of losing such a precious thing.

Oh, how addictive it seemed to be.

Bill returned with a fresh glass of water, giving no indication that caring for her bothered him one way or the other. He took his previous position by the bed, his eyes ever vigil in case she was in need of him, yet exuding a pleasant aura as she soaked her parched palate. It was enough to bring back queries—the first of which left her lips as the drink was lowered.

“What is your territory like?” she asked absently, blinking when Bill tilted his head to work out what she meant. It seemed this word was less complex for the translator, thankfully, because he simply pursed his lips in contemplation rather than confusion.

“A tad broad, but if you mean what I think you mean, then I’d guess you meant my city.” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “It’s… Well, it’s not bad, per se, but it’s not great. Lots of people in not very much space. I hear it was good maybe twenty years ago, but we only moved there just before the Union, so things got messy pretty much as soon as we were settled in.”

“‘We?’ Are you referring to your den-pack?”

Bill flinched, sorrow tainting the false smile. “Ah, that’s a bit clearer. Y-yeah, I am. Anyway, it’s a bit rough nowadays. Job security is…dicey at best with the advancements in microelectronics leaking into the civilian space. It was great at first, but where there’s cost-cutting advancements, there’s companies with costs to be cut. It was supposed to free up labour for other sectors—and it did…in a way—but that just led to people like me getting left in the dust as civilization moved on. Everything got pretty expensive before we knew it and… The countryside is supposedly still mostly unaffected, but affording the move all the way out there wasn’t much more viable.”

Her ears drooped as she listened with rapt attention, noting the avoidance of speaking about his den. There were a few parts where her translator needed to provide options based on what might be the intended message, but she was able to piece it together without much effort. At least she knew what he meant by ‘tags’ now.

“May I ask questions?” she asked belatedly, chastising herself for getting ahead of herself. He nodded, the guilty expression making her own deepen. She cycled a breath, grasping her water with both paws as she watched the rippling reflection stare up at her. “Whom might you be referring to when you say ‘people like me?’”

“Uneducated?” he proposed tentatively, placing one arm on the folding table for balance as he shifted on his chair. The male huffed in mild amusement at her confusion. “Unskilled labour was the first to go once everything was delegated to compu— terminals, sorry. But yeah, if you didn’t have a degree in something? Well, pretty soon you found yourself without much in the way of options.”

“Could you not seek the education required for your field?”

He shook his head, rubbing two claws together. “Money. It costs too much and takes too long. I couldn’t afford to be without an income until I had a chance at getting something that everybody else was aiming for.” A deep sigh followed his wandering gaze, Bill absently taking in the main area with little interest in the contents. “I had other things to worry about anyway.”

“Such as?” she pressed lightly, shrinking while berating herself for not being satisfied with what little information she was given. Her nose twitched as she noticed a strange tinge to the air.

“I don’t want to ruin the mood of everything with my sob story,” he dismissed with a smirk. “Come on, what about you? I’m sure your home is miles more interesting.”

She fell quiet as she remembered the yelling. The shouting. The blame from the community and the slowly cracking veneer of what she thought a den was supposed to be. She remembered the disgust of the den-parents who once doted on her, followed by asking her blood-parents why they never returned.

She remembered when they didn’t pick her up from the church…

…No matter how hard she prayed…

“A soldier,” she responded weakly, repressed memories stuffed down once more. Her smile was painted back on, just as it should be. “I am a soldier. My pack and territory are such.”

His gaze pierced her, intense and focused. Worry built and threatened to crack at the walls of her facade, but an exhale from the male replaced the stone expression with a wistful one. He looked around the room as if only just noticing where he was, gesturing towards the chemicals and various components.

“Is this for a hobby? It looks neat.”

The translator offered both ‘intriguing’ and ‘tidy,’ Sunundra pausing as she compared the two in context. “It is both my hobby and my…” She cycled a breath. “It is my specialty.”

He hummed an impressed note. “I’m really only good at making a fool of myself. What is it? Chemistry?”

“E-explosives,” she offered softly, awaiting the disdain. When it didn’t come, she held her glass closer, refusing to look away from it. “I create and modify destructive means of entry.”

“Oh…”

Her eyes closed even harder, straining with the urge to hide from herself—the female who would rather ‘toy with the Void’ than embrace another.

“How so?”

Her head snapped to the contemplative male rubbing his jaw as he inspected the materials. “Pardon?”

He waved a paw at the items and leaned in to view them more closely. “How do you go from this…stuff to ‘boom?’ It all looks like powders or blocks. Maybe a liquid or two… Do you make small charges to pop open locked doors, or is it a ‘I don’t like this wall’ kind of thing?”

She blinked dumbly. “I-it would depend on the requirements presented…”

Bill returned a sly grin. “Which is more fun?”

“You…do not think it is courting death?”

He leaned back, furrowing his brows doubtfully. “Why would I? You’re a soldier right?”

She nodded.

“And you get your people into places they need to be, right? Especially when any other way is too dangerous?”

“Y-yes…”

He jabbed a claw at the chemicals. “Do you use these to kill people?”

“Such…occurs…but it is not what I find joy in.” The pale-furred female fell quiet, her voice but a whisper. “There is no art in that.”

The male displayed an upturned paw, his visage softening. “There’s your answer. You’re not ‘courting death,’ you’re making things safer for the people you care about. I’m willing to bet you go through a lot of trouble so that your tools only do what’s needed.”

Her gaze returned to him, a cinder within her chest feeling the breeze of air where only stagnation was promised, the glow illuminating the darkness. “What causes you to speak with such certainty?”

His paws returned to his lap as he fully faced her, his expression simple, yet sympathetic. “Because I can’t picture someone who’s so afraid of mistakes—yet tries so hard anyway—aimlessly blowing everything to hell.”

“You cannot…know that…” A furless paw rested on her shoulder, drawing her regard once more. Bill nodded slowly, defeat and fondness in equal measure within his eyes.

“No, but I choose to think I’m right about you. You’re a kind person, miss. I wish there were more like you.”

It was silent, but the cinders received the oxygen it was deprived of for so long. Iced veins melted, frozen shelters protecting her fragile core evaporated, and she was motionless in front of one whose scent brought comfort as flames rose within, warming that which had been eroded by the beckoning Void.

“...dra…”

He hummed questioningly, flinching away from their point of contact as he noticed it. Her paw stopped his own from leaving as she bashfully stared at her lap.

“My name is Sunundra,” she breathed, the words leaving as if any more force would crack the delicate feeling inside. The pain of impending rejection was oddly…absent. Her very soul smiled in time with the strange alien male.

“Sunundra… It matches your fur,” he commented absently. Her confusion caused his cheeks to redden as he coughed into a fist. “You’re…yellow and grey. It’s like you’re the sun peeking between the clouds for whoever you talk to, brightening their day…”

The irony hit her like a rogue transport, but the sincerity in his voice stopped the bitter laughter. He politely pulled his paw back.

“You’re just a beam of sunshine, huh?”

“No,” she sighed, the tension relaxing in muscles she didn’t even know she had. “You would be the first to see my form as anything but an omen of ill tidings.”

A frown matched well with the irritated roll of his eyes. “Fine. You’re my sunshine.” He stood, offering a paw. “Come on. I made meatloaf with the weird stuff. I need someone to tell me how crap it is, and you look like you’d be honest with me.”

She accepted the help in standing without thinking, blinking as he left both the room and her behind. The warmth decreased without him near, reverberations of the Void bouncing off the walls of her core. Bill’s voice called for her, banishing the endless black effortlessly as his humour-filled cadence poured a joy where only suffering had existed before.

“Come on, Sunshine. There’s no escaping this!”

A smile crept across her muzzle, just as it… No. This wasn’t a simulacrum shown to others. This was hers.

Her feet carried her closer to the scent which embraced her very being with tender kindness, dampness stinging at her eyes as even the dull ache that her painkillers left behind vanished.

Escape… No. She would not escape this. This was the escape. This was a place…a den…that she shared with a friend. They were both still cloaked in shadows of secrets—pain unspoken and scars just out of sight—but those were dissolving. He would learn of her, and she of him.

The tiny fire within flickered.

“O’Mother of this soul, your faithful is…” She glanced back at the terminal and remains of what might have been snacks consumed while she was resting. How long had Bill been tending to her, wearing his worried smile for when she awoke? How often did he change the cool cloth and provide water to her writhing form? “...Your faithful is…”

Sunundra exhaled. What Void rips at the male in places he ensures others do not see? How much can one afford to give before there was none left for themselves?

Would she sit idle while another tried to discover what lies beyond that which she had grown too fearful to continue?

“Your faithful asks for protection of another, for she has met a weary soul in your domain. Be it from the unending erosion of life, or the ire of kin unmet, she seeks this one to be welcomed as your kit, if only in your eyes. He is strange and different, yet sees past the trial this faithful faces. Your faithful asks of you to accept them as you accepted her. Your faithful awaits, O’Mother.”

If the shadows cloaked them both, then she would offer to him what he did to her. She would offer her light so that he might see.

…Yes. She would be his ‘Sunshine,’ because he had given her something infinitely more valuable.

Hope…true hope.

The world could dismiss such all it wished.

She would never let it go.