CHAPTER 345: 345: PROMISE FOR THE ROAD (PART TWO)

---

Her mouth opened a little. "I must say it," she whispered. "You are very unique. You have so many powers from different lines. You talk about a soul voice. I know a power like that. Only ocean beasts with large bodies carry it. The old whales speak with waves of aura. Your shield is also strange. Turtle beast men make that kind of shell. Others can copy it, but one in a million ever learns it well. You hold both. Two unique skills of different species. I have never met anyone with both. How many secrets do you have."

Kai smirked. "It is not a big thing," he said with a light shrug. "I learned them by chance. I lived when I should have died. I paid for every power I carry. My secrets are simple. To learn them all you must come and live with me forever. Then I will tell you to kiss my anaconda every morning like today."

Her cheeks turned red in an instant. She laughed and hid her face with one hand, then peeked out. "How naughty," she said. "I would love to do that. But not yet. Not yet. For now let us say goodbye. And let me say this. You are my only man now. I am in love with you. One night with you was enough to make me fall. I will come and claim my right to mate with you again and again."

His chest tightened at the plain truth in her voice. He did not dodge it. He stepped closer, took both her hands, and spoke as a man who already has a life and still makes room for new truth.

"I am married," he said. "I have few wives. I have mates. I have a child in my home. I will not lie to you. But I do not throw care away. If you come to me with open eyes, I will not close mine. If you come to me with a brave heart, I will meet you with a brave heart. If you bring love, I will not treat it as a small thing."

"I know," she said. "I chose to fall with my eyes open. That makes it my pride, not my shame."

They stood close without rushing. Morning light came through the doorway and fell on her hair. The little shelter looked like a chapel for one quiet moment. He lifted her knuckles to his lips. She leaned forward and set her forehead to his chest. They held still and let the simple shape of it soak into their bones.

"Tell me more," she said into his shirt. "Tell me the rules of survival. Tell me what I must do to be safe on this road."

"Send me your place each night," Kai said. "If you fail to send, I will come. If you feel strange eyes on you, open your mind and wait for my soul call. I will hear. If you cannot run, hide. If you cannot hide, climb. If you cannot climb, use your voice. There is always someone who listens nearby, even in wild places. Do not eat what you cannot name. Do not drink water that does not move. Sleep off the ground when you can. Tie your food high on a branch. Keep a small ember in a clay cup so you do not have to start from nothing when rain comes. And remember, the shield I gave you is strong, but do not test it for pride. Pride is not armor. Pride is a hole in armor."

She listened with her whole body. "I will do these things," she said. "I will not make your work heavier than it must be."

"Good," he said.

She looked toward the trees and then back at him. "Can you show me the soul voice," she asked. "Just once. I want to know what it feels like when you touch my mind."

He nodded. "I can. I soul marked you without meaning to when we met. I can find you with that mark and send a voice. It will not hurt."

He closed his eyes and reached. The mark glowed in his mind, a soft thread, warm and clean. He opened a channel. His voice did not use air.

Ikea. Can you hear me.

Her eyes went wide. She pressed both hands to her mouth, then laughed and lowered them. "I can hear you," she said with her real voice. "It feels like a hand on my heart. It is not heavy. It is warm."

"Then I will speak when you call," she said. "And I will wait for your call."

He let the thread dim but not break. He liked the idea that a thin path now ran from his chest to hers. He would not tug it. He would not let it fray.

"Will you eat something before you go," she asked.

He shook his head. "I will eat when I get home."

"Then help me put out the fire and break a branch for my walking stick," she said. "I want to leave nothing careless behind."

They worked side by side in a quiet rhythm. He scattered the coals and poured water slowly so no steam jumped and burned his hand. She bundled her few things with the careful order of someone who does not own much and so must treat each small thing kindly. He found her a straight stick, stripped the bark, and smoothed the top where her hand would rest. He carved a shallow notch a hand’s breadth below the top so a cord could be tied and looped over her wrist.

"Hold it," he said. "Does it fit?"

She tried the stick, then grinned. "It fits."

"Walk with it," he said. "Feel how it teaches your steps."

She walked to the edge of the bowl and back. "Better," she said. "Thank you."

They faced each other again. There was nothing more to fix and nothing more to make. Only parting left to do, and the last words before parting.