Page 116 of My Wild Pet

My heart pounds as I engrave her name and carve a Christian cross next to it. A quiet ache settles in my chest, but it feels right to honor her here. “I hope you’ve found your peace, and I hope you know, you’ve given me mine,” I whisper.

The next months are a blur of activity. Gabriel finds his purpose in the Forge, helping with repairs and building everything fromsmall gadgets to improved farming tools. I join the Greenway, learning about horticulture and sustainability in the colony’s underground ecosystem. The baby in my womb grows, along with an ever-present worry, DoI want to know who the father is?

I choose not to and Gabriel never pushes. By the time I’m heavily pregnant, our relationship has grown beyond the question of paternity. We’ve created a life here, together. And we’re ready to welcome this child into our lives.

When I go into labor, I’m ushered into a calm, dimly lit birthing chamber in the medical center. Midwives guide me through each contraction. Gabriel’s hand never leaves mine, and his whispered French endearments keep me anchored. Hours later, we’re rewarded with the loud, fierce cry of our newborn. The midwife places the baby in my arms, and my heart explodes with love, fear, and wonder.

Haven gathers three nights later in the Soul for a naming ceremony, welcoming the child into the colony. Anna lifts the baby gently and addresses the crowd. “This child is a symbol of what we fight for,” she declares. “A new generation—born free. Born in Haven.”

Warm tears slip down my cheeks as she dips her hand in a bowl of fresh paint and touches the baby’s feet. “Orion, son of Briar and Gabriel of Haven, may these feet always walk freely no matter where you find yourself in the galaxy.”

Gabriel and I lock gazes, and in that moment, everything feels possible. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong somewhere. Not as a pet, or not as someone’s show piece for becoming rich as commodities trader, but as a human being, loved, accepted, and free.

I don’t know what will happen if Aefre ever finds us, or if the Empire discovers Haven. I don’t expect the fear will ever go away completely. But at least now we have something bigger thanourselves to fight for, a community, and a child who deserves to grow up without a collar around his neck.

EPILOGUE 3

GABRIEL

I stand on a ridge overlooking the Greenway, where morning sunlight filters down through carefully engineered vents cut into the cavern ceiling. The air here in Haven always smells of new life—fresh soil, growing things, and the subtle hints of bioluminescent fungi that glow by night.

A few feet away, a metal wind chime hangs from a low-hanging vine, clinking softly in the mild breeze. I remember forging it a few months ago, shaping the scraps of an old Imperial panel into something melodic. I used to hate the sound of metal, it reminded me too much of collars, cages, and the clang of training equipment. Now, I’ve learned to make it sing.

A lot of my activities in Haven revolve around dissecting elements of my trauma and reshaping them in my mind. Or ‘unconditioning’ myself as the doctor on Gael’s ship called it.

I rub the back of my neck, an old habit from when I used to feel the weight of my collar. Even though it’s been two years since I threw it into the fire, part of me still expects to find cool metal under my fingers. Instead, I feel only my own skin. Sometimes, that realization leaves me dizzy.

Fifi’s name is etched on a plaque in the Sanctuary behind me. I think of her sometimes—how I failed her. I know I can’t changethat past. But in the quiet moments, I let myself hope that by living here, free, I honor her memory better than if I’d died in that arena too.

A small voice breaks my reverie. “Papa?” A tug at my trousers follows.

“Tu es déjà réveillé?” I murmur in French, scooping him up. “Does your mother know where you are?”

Briar appears, her blonde hair, devoid of any pink or purple, is pulled back in a loose braid. Our eyes meet, and for a brief moment, I’m overwhelmed by how far we’ve come. How we once crouched in cages and wore collars, never imagining we’d see a day like this.

“Hey,” Briar calls softly, crossing the mossy clearing to join us. “Festivities are about to start. Did you lose track of time? We need to set up the stall.”

In the last few weeks, I’ve spent my free time at the Forge, hammering old Imperial scraps into something new. It’s my way of purifying myself, by taking old shards of our oppressors’ technology and reshaping them into harmless trinkets. I’m far from a master craftsman—my decorations are uneven, the welds imperfect, but each one is made with a quiet resolve, proof I’m no longer a “pet” or a “champion.” Here, I’m simply Gabriel, a man forging his own path.

I place a gentle kiss on our son’s temple, Orion, our little hunter, and set him on his feet. He toddles eagerly toward Briar, tiny fingers grabbing for the fabric of her shirt. She scoops him up, and he giggles with delight.

This morning, these simple moments catch me off guard, these small reminders of how free I am, and I suppress my strong emotions of joy and relief.

This is real.

Haven’s plaza is alive with color and sound. People bustle between stalls where bartered goods are displayed, hand-sewn clothes, fresh produce from the Greenway, small electronics the engineers have refurbished, and of course, my little stall of imperfect trinkets. Overhead, vines and mosses create a living tapestry that filters the daylight. Strings of metal lanterns, some from my own forging, hang between columns of rock, casting a playful glow.

After a few hours, Anna, our leader stands atop a makeshift stage, addressing a group of newcomers who arrived on the last supply ship. There looks to be about twenty of them. All young humans, like I was when I was first taken. They’re trembling with fear. They’re all holding their half-fused collars.

“Here, you can learn to be yourselves again,” Anna is saying, her voice carrying through the plaza. “We don’t require perfection, just honesty. You are safe here—no masters, no owners.”

The crowd claps softly, welcoming them, but it’s not without emotion. I hear some sobs and not from the newcomers. Some of us are still processing our freedom. I share a look with Briar. I remember the day we threw our collars into the fire; how final and uncertain it felt.

Freedom is a complicated gift.

There’s always that worry,Will Aefre come after us?Will he track us down, determined to reclaim what he once owned? Maybe. But if Aefre tries, he’ll find we aren’t his obedient pets anymore.

On the way back home, Briar stops in front of a new mosaic, small tiles depicting a child in the arms of a mother, ringed bysilhouettes of others. It’s a testament to the colonists’ unity, a future we’re trying to build. She turns to me. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

---