Stream, Part II

Jesse


I shove open the hatch above me, letting the cool morning air pour into Tyur’ma. The stale breath of the sealed tank is swept out at once, replaced with the smell of damp earth and the soft chirping of insects. I inhale deeply, savoring it. The sky above is empty, wide and blue, as though nothing in the world could disturb it.

I glance at Cayti. She’s still asleep, her chest rising and falling in the dim interior light. I linger for a moment, watching her peaceful face, before reaching for the controls. One by one, I bring the power systems online. The screens flicker awake, dew distorting some of the external cameras into blurred patches of light.

Fuel and engine to START. Throttle to AUTO. Power to IGNITION.

My hand pauses on the key. I look at her one last time.

“Sorry.”

I twist it.

The starter motor whines. Then, with a deafening roar, the early morning stillness shatters. Cayti bolts upright, eyes wide and scanning frantically until she realises what’s happening. With a groan, she sinks back into her seat.

I grin. “Oh, good morning. Did I wake you?”

Her glare is sharp enough to cut steel. I can practically feel it drilling through my skull.

I laugh, hands raised in mock surrender. “Hey, hey! No need for that attitude. We’re moving in a minute. Let me know when you’re ready.”

She sighs, shifts around until comfortable, then nods.

“Okay. Let’s continue.”

I nod back, lift my seat higher, and push the throttle forward. Tyur’ma lurches ahead, trees sliding past in streaks of green and gold. Beside me, Cayti raises her seat, hair catching the morning light.

“How far is Sheinfeld, anyway?” I call over the rush of air.

“At this speed? A little under a day and a half, if we rest overnight like we did just now.”

So tomorrow, then.

“Is that to the border, or a village?”

“Village. The border’s a few hours before.”

I nod, but my thoughts drift elsewhere.

The tank that fired on us - it was a T-72. Standard issue for the enemy back on Earth. Which means one of two things. Either that crew is working with the church, or time flows differently here.

Neither explanation makes sense.

If they’re working for the church, then why did Agnar, all the way back in Kaunis, show that flicker of recognition when he saw Tyur’ma? He couldn't have seen the other tank before if it arrived recently. And if time runs differently, meaning that the original crew of that tank are long gone, who’s supplying it with fuel and shells? Who’s manning it? How many more are out there?

And are there others like Cayti?

Questions coil in my head with no answers. The only certainty is the pounding of Tyur’ma’s treads, the blur of trees fleeing past, and the terrified animals darting away from the iron monster tearing through their world.

“Want to take a break?”

Cayti’s voice jars me from my thoughts. I look over, puzzled.

“What for?”

She gives me a flat look, unimpressed. “Because I want to.”

Something in her tone tells me that if I don’t stop, I might not survive the consequences. I immediately pull the brakes, and Tyur’ma grinds to a halt.

She stretches, climbs out, and I shut the systems down. The tank ticks gently as the heat fades. I hop onto the grass beside her, following her gaze into the nearby trees.

A stream glints through the undergrowth. I grin.

“Oh, I see now.”

Her answering grin is mischievous. She grabs my hand and tugs me forward.

We run together, the grass springing beneath our feet. She strips off her boots and stockings in one practiced motion, tossing them aside as she splashes into the stream. I kick off my boots, roll up my trousers, and wade in after her.

“Ooo! Cold!” she gasps.

Her warning lets me brace, but the water isn’t half as icy as I expect. Still, before I can get comfortable, a wall of spray hits me full in the face.

I splutter. “Again?”

She smiles sweetly. “Don’t worry. I won’t use magic this time.”

I narrow my eyes, unconvinced by that sparkle. Then I sweep a splash at her. She squeals, barely blocking in time.

“Hey!”

I grin, triumphant. “What’re you complaining about?”

She fires back with both hands, water arcing high. But something behind her catches my eye, freezing me mid-swing.

She frowns at my stillness, then turns to look.

A tall deer stands at the opposite bank, no more than eight meters away. Its sleek coat glimmers in the dappled light, ears flicking, black eyes fixed on us.

We hold still, breathless.

The deer lowers its head, lapping calmly at the stream as though we don’t exist. My legs begin to numb in the current, but I dare not move. Finally it raises its head again, regards us a moment longer, and trots silently back into the trees.

We stare after it. Then, slowly, our eyes meet again.

Her eyes sparkle with awe - then flash with mischief.

I don’t even have time to react before another wall of water slams into me.

I cough and glare. “That’s it. I’m pushing you under.”

She squeals, laughing, splashing backward against the current. I lunge after her, both of us laughing breathlessly - until her foot slips.

She gives a startled cry and tumbles forward, hitting the water with a loud sploosh that soaks my legs.

“Cayti!”

The sun, high and warm, flickers through the branches like spinning gold coins as we lie in a clearing, waiting for our clothes to dry. I wish I’d worn my combat fatigues - then the water wouldn’t matter - but it’s too late for regrets. The grass is soft beneath me, warm from the sunlight, and its tips tickle at my bare skin. She sighs.

“It’s just like the first time.”

I smile at the thought.
“It’s only been, what, six days since then?”

She nods.
“Still. I want to do this all the time.”

Her hand, still laced with mine, shifts a little as she edges closer. The damp fabric of our clothes brushes together at the shoulder.

“You’ve never been to Sheinfeld, right?”

She shakes her head, so I continue.
“What do you think it’s like?”

She considers.
“From what I’ve heard, most of the settlements are just oversized villages with an elected leader. They don’t push to develop - they’re content with what they’ve got. Wooden walls, too. Not great against monster surges.”

I nod.
“I can imagine.”

But then she smiles.
“Still, the people love festivals. They’re friendly, and don’t waste energy thinking about war. Not quite as clever as humans, but stronger.”

Demi-humans, also known as beastmen. Humans who share fragments of animal DNA, sprouting ears or tails in exchange for sharper reflexes, keener senses, stronger bodies. The cost was never much, but enough to breed suspicion. Enough to make them “other.” Cayti continues:

“We were at war with them seven years ago. Nobody won. A monster surge came and we had to fight together just to survive. After that, no one had the heart to keep killing each other. So a truce was agreed, and… here we are.”

I nod. Knowing the history of a world can be the difference between surviving in it and becoming its casualty.
“Do they still hate humans?”

She shrugs.
“Depends where you go. Some do, some don’t. But if we prove we’re friendly, if we help them, most will look after us. Not that we need to be looked after.”

Her sigh drifts across the grass like a breeze.
“We should just run away from it all. Find somewhere quiet, with no one else around.”

My heart skips, races.
“J-just the two of us?”

She smiles.
“Yeah. Just us two.”

The words strike something deep inside me. I can see it - see us - in the peace her voice conjures.
“I… I like that idea.”

Her eyes brighten.
“So should we?”

My chest wants to say yes, but my head won’t let me. I sigh.
“No. Not yet. If we built a life somewhere and got found, ambushed…”

I let her imagination paint the rest. Her brightness dims, and she nods sadly.
“Then what do we do? Fight back?”

I shrug.
“I don’t know. How do you even stop a church?”

She surprises me by actually thinking about it.
“Well… the only way it’s been done before is through shock. You have to make them believe two things: first, that you don’t want to fight. Second, that chasing you is pointless. Once they believe that, you disappear. Because if they find any reason to come after you again - they will.”

Ideas spark in my head.
“Well, we’ve got a tank. That’s something.”

She laughs.
“True. Though we almost lost it yesterday.”

I wince.
“Don’t remind me.”

Then I nod.
“But yes. That T-72 will be an issue.”

She glances at me.
“T-72?”

“The tank that hit us. It’s from my old world. I’ve destroyed plenty of them, but I can’t figure out how they’ve made this one work. It needs fuel, and it needs ammunition - same as Tyur’ma. Which means someone’s supplying it.”

I look at her.
“Do you know if they made more… you know…”

She shakes her head.
“I don’t. Sorry.”

I smile faintly.
“Don’t worry about it.”

She tilts her head.
“So, do you still want to see that dragon?”

I grin.
“Yup. It’s like the aviation bug. Once you get it, it never lets go.”

Her brows knit. Oh - another Earth word.
“Sorry. In my old world, aviation was the field where people worked with machines that could fly.”

Her eyes widen.
“What? Fly? Like birds?”

I nod.
“Sort of. They were called aircraft. Some had wings, some didn’t.”

A smile pulls at me.
“None of them flapped, though. They all moved the same way Tyur’ma does - with engines.”

She blinks in disbelief.
“So… they drive in the sky?”

I laugh.
“Not quite, but you’re close.”

I grin at her.
“Here’s a fun fact: I was taught to fly one.”

She gasps.
“You? You flew in the sky?”

Her awe is so pure it makes me laugh before I can stop myself. I try to smother it, but her scowl tells me I’m too late. Still grinning, I shake my head.
“Sorry, sorry. You’re just so genuine when you’re amazed.”

She flushes pink, groaning. Which only makes me laugh harder. Because she knows full well I’ve won again. She punches my shoulder, light as a feather.
“Geez! Now what am I supposed to do?”

I put on my most innocent expression.
“Whatever could you mean? Are you hallucinating again?”

She punches me again, but it only makes me grin. She harrumphs.
“Geez.”

I roll onto my back, staring up at pillowy clouds drifting overhead like slow fish. A bird darts past, wings flicking in the sunlight, free and unbothered by the two figures lying in the grass below. Cayti shifts closer until our arms overlap completely, fingers still twined, shoulders pressed. She sighs, voice softer this time.

“Jesse… can I tell you my full story now?”

My heart lurches. I nod quickly, and she exhales, a heavy sound.

“Alright. I’ll start where my memories start. I used to live in a palace. The King’s palace, I think. I was raised by a dog demi-human named Fuku. I didn’t learn until much later that she was actually a captured princess from Sheinfeld - who we were at war with.”

The name jolts me. Sheinfeld. The very place we’re heading to. She keeps going.

“Fuku taught me everything I know. Well… everything except my origins and my magic. I found those out by eavesdropping.”

Her voice wavers. She takes a shaky breath.

“When I was sixteen, she told me the truth about her past. She said she was still loyal to her country, and that she’d been secretly sending information back through a network of spies. She also said she was being watched. And then… she told me that if anything happened to her, I had to run. To run before the Kingdom made me into their tool.”

I sit up. She mirrors me, and now that we’re face-to-face, I see how much effort it costs her to speak.

“A few months later, the monster surge began - the first one in centuries. The people who created me tried to activate my powers before they were ready. They thought they could trigger them by… by…” She stammers, her throat tightening. “…by executing Fuku. Publicly. Right in front of me.”

Her tears come fast now, sliding down her cheeks. I slip an arm around her shoulders.

“It worked,” she whispers, trembling. “My magic woke up. And the first soul I absorbed was Fuku’s.”

Her whole body shakes. A broken sob tears out of her as she buries her face in her hands.

“I kept her from the afterlife. I killed her. I killed her permanently.”

I wrap both arms around her, pulling her close. She clings to me, crying into my shoulder, just like I had into hers the night before. Her damp clothes press against me as her grief tears its way out of her throat.

“I KILLED HER!” she screams. “I killed her, after all she did for me!”

I stroke her back, desperate for words.

“No - you didn’t know. You couldn’t have known. It wasn't your fault.”

She sobs harder. “I STILL KILLED HER!”

There’s nothing else I can say, so I hold her tighter and let her cry. The stream gurgles nearby, branches sway above us, insects chirp, birds sing. Her sobs shake us both, her hair tickling against my ear, but I don’t mind. Strange as it is, there’s a lightness inside me. Everything is out in the open now - no more secrets between us.

Eventually her sobs soften, then fade. My shoulder is soaked again, but I don’t care. We stay in each other’s arms a while longer before finally pulling back. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve.

“Sorry.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be. You’ve always been a shoulder for me to lean on - it’s the least I can do in return.”

She lets out a trembling laugh. “You’re the only shoulder I can lean on.”

Warmth floods my chest. “So are you.”

Her smile flickers, caught between sadness and relief. She wipes her eyes again. “Sorry. I’ve ruined the mood.”

I shake my head. “No. This mattered more.”

She nods slowly, breathes once, twice. “…Okay. Okay. I think I’m alright now.”

I smile. “Want to head off?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. Just… a little longer, please.”

I nod, and we lie back down. Our hands find each other, fingers intertwining, palms pressing until we can feel the pulse of each other’s skin. Silence falls again - only the stream, the breeze, the rustle of life around us. For a few minutes, nothing. Then she sighs softly.

“…I don’t know how to do it.”

I start to turn my head. “How to do wha-”

I stop when I see her face. She’s only centimeters away, eyes shining, lips curved in a nervous smile. I see every eyelash, every faint freckle, the soft line of her cheek. Her breath brushes against my lips as her eyes flutter. And then, before I can think, she leans forward and kisses me.

For a heartbeat I freeze, face burning, but my eyes close on their own. Her lips are soft and warm, her breath mingling with mine as our linked hands squeeze tighter. Then she draws back, touching her lips with trembling fingers, eyes wide.

“So… that’s what it feels like.”

Her grin spreads, wonder lighting her face. “I’ve done it!”

It takes me a moment to realise how red I am. I grin helplessly back. “So you did. Well… well done, I guess?”

“Thank you,” she whispers, eyes sparkling.

We hold each other’s gaze. Her hand lowers from her lips, lingering. Her voice is barely a breath. “Can I… can we…”

I nod, and her whole face lights up as we lean in again. This time we pause, half a breath away, hearts beating together. Then we close the gap.

I melt into the kiss, lying on my side in the grass, the world and its worries fading into nothing. There’s only Cayti. Only her.

We lean against Tyur’ma’s side, the sun only minutes gone below the horizon. The stars are beginning to shimmer into existence, faint and fragile, as we sit with our legs stretched out in front of us, the ground still holding the last of the day’s warmth. Tyur’ma’s armor radiates heat too, keeping the evening air pleasant. It feels good to be out of the cabin after seven hours of rattling travel. I sigh.

“We didn’t get as far as I’d hoped today.”

“That’s okay.” She tilts her head toward me, smiling. “I think we gained more than we lost.”

I can’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, you’re right.”

Her grin sharpens into something playful.
“I’m always right.”

Her eyes dance with mischief as I raise a brow.
“That’s how we’re doing things, is it?”

She folds her arms with exaggerated smugness.
“Yup. From now on, I’m always right. Now say it.”

I chuckle, giving in.
“You’re always right.”

“Thank you.” She nods solemnly, lips twitching. “You won’t regret it. Because if you do, I’ll just say that you don’t. And since I’m always right, you won’t.”

I laugh, and she giggles until the sound fades into a quieter stillness. Then she leans against me, head resting lightly on my shoulder, and sighs.

“You know,” she murmurs, “when I refilled the fuel tank earlier, I didn’t use as much soul energy as I normally do.”

I glance down at her.
“You didn’t fill it all the way?”

She shakes her head softly, careful not to disturb her spot against me.
“No. I filled it. But it didn’t take as much energy as it usually does.”

Something stirs inside me. Hope, sharp and fragile.
“Do you know why?”

She gives the smallest shake of her head.
“I’ve thought about it, but I can’t find a pattern. It’s only happened once, after all.”

She tilts her face up to me with a small smile.
“Who knows? Certainly not me.”

I nod, and let my gaze drift skyward. The stars twinkle faintly, little pinpricks scattered across a velvet black. I think about what I told Cayti earlier about space - about the infinity beyond our world. I wonder if she’ll ever truly understand it. Gently, I lower my head until it rests on her hair. She doesn’t move. I can feel her breathing, steady and soft, the tickle of the lavender-coloured ribbons tied in her hair.

The night hums with life - the buzz of unseen insects, the occasional distant call of an animal across the plains. Then I notice her breathing change, slowing, deepening. Asleep.

I fight off my own drowsiness. Falling asleep outside is dangerous. For a moment I just sit, listening to her quiet breaths, before carefully easing her into a sitting position that doesn’t lean on me. But when I glance at Tyur’ma, I realise there’s no way I can get her inside without waking her.

So I circle to the rear, pull out the machine gun and ammunition, and feed the belt. Returning to her side, I sit again - and she slips effortlessly back against my shoulder, her weight warm and familiar. I sit the gun on its bipod beside me, ready to be used.

I lean gently into her, one last sweep of the darkening horizon with my eyes. Nothing stirs. The black deepens. My eyelids grow heavy.

I drift at last into sleep, Cayti pressed against me, the machine gun standing guard, and my mind still alive with the fragile, luminous memories of the last twelve hours.