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INDEX | Chapter 12 | Scene 1 | Scenes 2 & 3 | Scenes 4 & 5 | Scenes 6 & 7 | Scene 8 | Scene 9 | Next Scene → Coming soon.
Previously: Misty is released from PG custody in exchange for Luke’s reenlistment, but Logan doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Misty thinks her friend from Telera might still be alive.
My fingers fly across the screen as I enter in the vectors for landing, and the shuttle dips low through the cloud as the program takes over, cutting the engines at just the right moment. We float down gently, kissing the ground without so much as a flurry of the fresh loose snow. Perfect.
Unclipping my harness, I grab the coat Misty’s been refusing to wear, and hold it out to her, shaking once for emphasis. She gives me that stubborn look, brow low, lips pressed, then steps past me off the ramp. My toes curl inside my boots, as her bare feet sink almost to where the cotton knit dress she was arrested in brushes her knees, and the snow gathers like ash on her hair. I zip up my parka, tight against the cold and step out after her.
With the clouds high, the cabin stands clear as cut glass. Dark wood and blue steel slant with the mountain’s natural slope like it grew there on its own. Luke’s attention to detail strikes me every time.
My heart tightens as we walk up the path, excitement and dread pulling in opposite directions. Same steps, same slope, same freezing air. Misty’s seeing it for the first time—our home away from home. But last time, Tom was with us. His laugh still feels caught in the air, like I could hear it if I tried hard enough.
I breathe in the cold, letting it ground me, and focus on Misty instead. Her lips hint at a smile as she scans the landscape, eyes tracing the tree-line, then the sky. She likes it here. It reminds her of something.
But it doesn’t last. Fear flickers just beneath the joy, quick as a shadow passing over snow. Her shoulders are relaxed, but there’s an unease in the way she moves, as if she’s expecting something to strike from the edge of her vision. I try to remember that it’s normal for her to shut down when she’s out of her comfort zone. Our sense sync is all but dormant as a result. But she’s barely spoken since the library, since the party even, like this whole thing has scared her back into who she was when we found her.
“It’s warmer inside.” I say, tapping my knuckles on the veranda railing as I pass. She follows but her eyes stay on the wide window.
Inside, the silent warmth hits like stepping into a memory. Everything here is wrapped up in Luke and Tom. The old armchair, the stack of paperbacks, the coffee mugs and bran cream rusks. Now it’s just Misty and I.
She stops in the middle of the large living space, turning in place. I follow her gaze—roofbeams, cushions, rugs, the splashes of color in the kitchen of polished dark marble. Her brow twitches when she spots the bedroom doors in a neat row—navy, scarlet and white oak. The look on her face is gone as fast as it came, like she caught herself feeling something and cut it off at the root.
She’s too still. Too controlled. It’s that same stiffness she gets when she knows we’re watching her. Except this time, it’s just me. I know I should just ask what’s going on with her. I know it’s got everything to do with this Chrystelle, we’ve never talked about. I also know she won’t answer, yet.
“You wanna eat?” I ask, breaking the silence as I stride toward the kitchen. I tug open the fridge, it’s stocked with ration packs, vacuum-sealed meats and neat rows of fresh produce. Old Jared sure keeps the place in tiptop shape.
Misty hesitates a moment before dragging her eyes away from the white oak door, and shakes her head a little, making a face to the effect of not hungry.
I consider for a moment. Neither of us slept last night. Once he finally agreed, Luke insisted we pack and leave before dawn.
I grab two protein bars off the shelf and toss one her way. She snatches it with barely a glance and fidgets with the wrapper, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m the trainer now, remember? Eat up. Then we get moving.”
The cabin is stunning, big, airy yet cozy. Self contained. It has everything. Not at all what I expected. I thought maybe something colder. Less lived-in.
Somehow this feels more homely than the manor, even with Luke’s style stamped on every surface. There are traces of Tom too, sky blue an white oak, his colors. I can’t stop thinking of him. It must be harder for Logan.
His nostalgia hums through the sync like a live wire. I’ve kept him at a distance for so long, though, I barely notice him reaching out anymore.
I wanted to let him in, after the party. I almost did. Almost. But Cathy was right. I’m sacred of what he’ll see. Just like after I showed them my parents’ end, even though he was nothing but supportive then.
Better to be damaged goods than a weapon.
“You wanna eat?” Logan asks opening the fridge. The thought of food makes my stomach churn. We’ve been up all night. I make a face, shake my head. Then he tosses an energy bar at me and reminds me I asked for this.
I feel like an idiot.
After Teag, I swore I’d never let another person dictate how I train, and here Logan seems not only dedicated but passionate. Just what have I got myself into?
Next Time: Misty and Logan get stuck into training and figuring out how to use their sense sync in battle when they get a message from Luke.
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Author’s Notes:
Hi everyone.
Some of you will have noticed I’ve been offline for a bit, and that this week’s entry is a little short. Sorry about that. Been busy, and in ordecr to have any crhancre of this going out on time, I’m finishing and scheduling now while our borrowed generator purrs, just in case I don’t manage to do any more at all by tomorrow.
So, what’s been going on for the nosey ones?
First off we’ve had about 50 hours of stable electricity in the last ten days since peak thunderstorm season has finally hit. Between the gale-force winds and pouring rain the power is on for a few hours then off for days while the good people of ESKOM work tirelessly to restore our supply. Yeah, for those that remember I moved a few months ago - the new house didn’t come with solar.
I’ve been prioritizing activities that require power, unfortunately writing is lower on the list than I’d like in the scheme of late pregnancy, entertaining young children and running a household. Reading email, is dead last. Sorry again.
I’ve been keeping busy, crafting and baking with the girls, doing Christmas prep, and trying to stay sane. (Not completely successfully.)
Also, we lost a dear pet this past week, (we think it was a snake bite - hazards of farm life) so a little light mourning in between.
Well, best of the season to you all, I’ll try to keep up my Friday episodes throughout, but can’t make any promises if things keep going as they have.
🤷🏻♀️ 🥳🎄🎇🍾
Thanks for reading!
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Until next time.
- Jenny*
P.S.
Oh, the Sci-Friday tags. I think most of the guys and gals are ignoring them so I’m not including everyone this time, only
since he sends us the digest anyway.😉 Thanks for that by the way.- J*
Oh Jenny, I think I'm busted! Thanks for filling us in on the challenges that you are facing, you and the family live a very 'real' life very close to the bone! Your resilience is very admirable and is certainly a guiding light for your kiddos!
As for Misty's story, I never would have predicted anything like where it has gone in this chapter and boy am I glad! It is unfolding with an intimacy that is unique to anything I've seen within the genres that you are crossing! Not that I'm any authority of course.
And I will be bold enough to say that I relate in some small way to the closed off condition that Misty finds herself in... fearing to show your true self to anyone, especially those you are supposed to be close to. Afraid of being misunderstood catastrophicly... although certainly not on the same scale as this fictional account. But enough of that, you dazzle me and make me anxious for what is to come! Be well as always!
Of course I noticed, silly! Glad to see you back on these pages but because we are so close now, I don't want you to hurry anymore :)