Page 39 of Bonded to the Star-Beast

“A magnetic anomaly. A strong one. It's fried the primary circuits on anything not shielded.” I tap the useless screen of my datapad. “My navigation, my scanners... they're all offline.”My security blanket. Gone.A familiar spike of panic, cold and sharp, pierces my carefully constructed calm.

“Your tools are weak, then,” Jaro observes, his tone flat. He seems completely unconcerned.

“They're not weak, they're sensitive. This level of magnetic interference is... it's off the charts. It shouldn't even be possible.”

“The mountain does not care what should be possible,” he says, his gaze fixed on the peaks above. “It cares only for what is. Now, you must use my tools.”

He points to his eyes, his nose, his ears. “These do not fail.” He turns and continues up the path without a backward glance, expecting me to follow. The arrogance of it is galling. The necessity of it is even more so.

“Wait,” I call out, my voice tight. “How will we navigate? My topographical maps are gone.”

He stops and looks back at me, his expression one of faint surprise, as if the answer should be obvious. “We follow the suns. We read the winds. We listen to the mountain. We walk.”

And so we walk. For hours, I am blind, stripped of my data, my technology, my scientific certainty. I am forced to rely on him, on his senses, on his innate understanding of this world. He points out game trails I would have missed, identifies the subtle shift in the wind that signals an approaching weather front, reads the story of the land in a way my instruments never could.

He is not just a warrior,I realize, watching him test the stability of a rock outcropping with a single, knowing touch.He is an ecosystem unto himself. A walking, breathing sensor array.The thought is both humbling and, to my surprise, deeply compelling. My respect for his expertise, an expertise I cannot quantify or replicate, grows with every step.

We reach a sheer rock face that seems to block our path completely. A recent rockslide has obliterated the trail. A mess of fractured stone and loose scree makes the way forward look impossible.

“There is no way through,” I state, my own frustration making my voice sharp. “We'll have to go back, find another route.”

“There is no other route on this side of the mountain, unless you wish to face the Stryx nesting grounds,” Jaro says, his eyes scanning the wall of rock. “There is always a way. You must only be strong enough to find it.”

He places a hand on a massive boulder, its surface as large as my entire body. He braces his feet, his muscles bunching underhis navy-blue skin, and pushes. The boulder doesn't budge. He growls, a low, frustrated sound, and pushes again, his whole body straining. The rock groans, shifts a fraction of an inch, and then settles.

“It is too large,” he says, breathing heavily. He looks at me, and for the first time, I see a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He is used to his strength being the answer to every physical problem.

“Strength isn't the issue here, Jaro. It's physics.” I step forward, running my hand over the rock face, my geologist's training kicking in. “This is a problem of leverage and structural integrity.”

I start tapping on the rocks, listening to the sound, analyzing the fracture lines. I point to a series of smaller, wedged stones at the base of the main boulder.

“Here,” I say, my voice filled with a renewed sense of purpose. “This is the keystone. If we can dislodge these smaller rocks, the main boulder should shift. But we have to be careful. The entire rockslide is unstable. We could bring the whole thing down on us.”

He looks from the rocks to me, his expression unreadable. I expect him to dismiss my analysis, to rely on his own brute force. Instead, he nods. “Tell me where to push.”

We work together, a strange and silent ballet of my intellect and his power. I direct him, pointing out the precise points of pressure, the exact angles of force. He responds without question, his phenomenal strength now guided by my understanding of engineering principles. It's a slow, grueling process. We dislodge one rock, then another, the entire wall groaning in protest. Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles tremble with the sustained effort. I find myself holding my breath with every move, my heart pounding in a rhythm that feels strangely in sync with his.

At one point, as he braces his shoulder against a particularly stubborn slab, his hand brushes against mine. A jolt, like a low-voltage electrical current, passes between us. I look down at my chest, and through the fabric of my shirt, I can see the faint, warm glow of the bond-mark. I look at him, and I see the same soft light pulsing on his chest. His amber eyes meet mine, and in that moment, in the midst of this shared, dangerous task, the chasm between us feels a little less wide.

With a final, concerted effort, the keystone gives way. The massive boulder shifts, sliding down a few feet and opening a narrow, treacherous path through the rockslide. We did it. Together.

A rare, genuine smile breaks across Jaro's face, a flash of white teeth that transforms his harsh features into something breathtakingly handsome. “Your mind is also a weapon, Kendra Miles.”

“And your strength is a useful application of force,” I reply, my own lips twitching into a smile. The compliment, coming from him, feels more rewarding than any academic citation.

We make our way carefully through the newly opened path, the rocks still shifting uneasily around us. On the other side, we stop to rest, our backs against the sun-warmed stone. The shared victory, the successful integration of our skills, has left a palpable energy in the air between us.

“I have been... unfair to you,” Jaro says, his voice a low rumble. He does not look at me, his gaze fixed on the valley below.

I wait, not wanting to break the fragile thread of his confession.

“I saw your knowledge as a weakness,” he continues. “Words and numbers. The tools of those who cannot fight. I did not understand that a different kind of strength could be as valuable as a warrior's blade.”

“And I saw your strength as a threat,” I admit softly. “Brute force. The tool of those who cannot think. I didn't understand that instinct could be as valuable as data.”

He finally turns to look at me, and the respect in his eyes is real, earned. “We are... a strange pair.”

“The strangest,” I agree.

---