Page 73 of Veil of Dust

She doesn’t see me at first.

Then she does.

No reaction.

No relief. No fear. Not even surprise.

Just recognition.

We’re both still alive.

Barely.

I take two steps forward.

She doesn’t move.

“I figured you’d already gone,” I say.

She shrugs. “I burned it first.”

“You always do.”

“Don’t start.”

I don’t.

I step closer. One more pace. We’re almost chest to chest now, her body tight with adrenaline, mine still soaked in smoke.

“Are you hurt?” I ask.

Her eyes flick up. “Not enough to matter.”

I look down at her hands. There’s dirt under her nails and a small cut along her left thumb.

She notices me staring.

“Don’t touch me because you feel bad,” she snaps.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why?”

“Because I saw you walk through fire,” I say. “And I need to know if you’re still standing.”

“I’m standing.”

“And shaking.”

“Fuck off.”

I grab her wrist.

Her expression cracks, just for a breath.

Then, she snarls, “You want to feel something?”

Before I can answer, she grabs the front of my shirt and pulls.

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