Page 73 of The Slug Crystal
Luca's expression falls momentarily before he rallies. "I'm just getting started."
I find myself unexpectedly moved by his persistence, by the vulnerability beneath the bravado. This is a side of Luca I haven't seen before, not the smooth operator who kissed me in the pool or the confident pilot who flew us to Venice, but someone willing to look foolish and keep trying anyway.
"Here," I say, surprising myself as I stand and place Alex's terrarium carefully on the boulder. "Let me help."
Luca looks startled as I approach. "You know how to chop wood?"
"I grew up with a fireplace," I explain, reaching for the axe. "My dad taught me."
I don't add that I was terrible at it, or that my father eventually banned me from trying after I nearly took out our garden gnome. Some details aren't necessary.
Luca relinquishes the axe with a graceful bow that manages to make his shirtless state seem almost dignified. "The lady wishes to demonstrate her skills. Who am I to refuse?"
My first swing isn't perfect, but the log splits with a satisfying crack. I step back, offering the axe to Luca with a smile. "It's all in the shoulders."
"I'm impressed," he admits, taking the axe back. His fingers brush mine in the exchange, deliberate and warm. "Though I loosened it for you."
"Of course you did," I agree, not bothering to hide my smile.
By the time darkness falls completely, we've established a rhythm. Luca is splitting logs with increasing success, and I step in when he struggles. The others offer commentary and occasional assistance. The pile of firewood grows steadily, and with it, a strange sense of camaraderie develops. For a few hours, we're just friends around a campfire, finding moments of connection in an otherwise frustrating day.
As the fire finally roars to life, Luca catches my eye across the flames. His smile is different now, less practiced and more genuine. I smile back, something warm unfurling in my chest that has nothing to do with the heat of the fire.
Even Alex seems content, exploring his terrarium as the first flames of the fire cast dancing shadows through the glass. I watch the blue snail and wonder if some part of him appreciates this moment of peace. If somewhere inside that spiral shell, the human Alex observes our growing bonds with confusion or understanding.
Sunday, 7:14PM. Dinner with the commune members proves to be less of a spiritual awakening and more of an awkward potluck, with earnest discussions about energy alignment punctuated by requests to pass the vegan lasagna.
I push food around my plate, stomach still unsettled from ourdisappointing search and my earlier car sickness. Alex munches contentedly on fresh lettuce in his terrarium beside me, blissfully unaware of the existential conversations swirling around us.
As the meal winds down and people begin drifting toward their cabins, Marco leans close, his voice soft against the background of clinking dishes and murmured goodnights. "The sky here is remarkable," he says, his scholarly tone warmed by genuine enthusiasm. "Away from city lights, the stars reveal themselves completely. Would you like to see? There's roof access from our cabin."
I glance across the table where Ben is deep in conversation with a silver-haired woman about the metaphysical properties of mushrooms, while Jake and Luca appear trapped in a one-sided discourse about chakra alignment delivered by our dreadlocked host. None of them seem likely to break free any time soon.
"That sounds perfect," I reply, surprising myself with how much I mean it. After a day of frustration and disappointment, the idea of quiet stargazing feels like a balm.
Marco helps me gather Alex's terrarium, careful to ensure the lid is secure. "He'll enjoy the fresher air," he says, his fingers gentle on the glass. "Gastropods are surprisingly sensitive to atmospheric conditions."
We slip away from the dining area unnoticed, following a dirt path to the small cabin we've been assigned. The night air carries the scent of herbs and woodsmoke, surprisingly pleasant after the incense-heavy commune spaces. Marco finds the ladder to the roof—little more than sturdy wooden slats attached to the cabin's back wall—and takes Alex's terrarium from me.
"I'll go first," he offers, tucking the glass box carefully under one arm. "To ensure it's safe."
I watch him climb with measured movements, impressed by how he balances academic precision with unexpectedphysical grace. At the top, he disappears briefly before his face reappears over the edge.
"It's perfect," he calls down softly. "And there are chairs already here."
The ladder feels precarious beneath my hands, but I climb steadily, focusing on the stars that grow more visible with each step. Marco's hand appears as I reach the top, warm and steady as he helps me onto the flat tiled roof. The simple contact sends a surprising flutter through my chest that I blame on the altitude.
The rooftop is better than I could have imagined, a flat expanse of terracotta tiles with two large Adirondack chairs positioned side by side, as if waiting for stargazers. Marco has already placed Alex's terrarium on a small table between them, the blue snail visible against the glass as he explores his enclosure.
"How did you know this was up here?" I ask, settling into one of the chairs.
Marco's smile is visible even in the dim light. "I asked one of the elderly members during the bonfire preparations. The younger ones focus on selling experiences, but he was eager to share actual knowledge about the place." He guides me to the chairs, helping me settle into one first before taking the other.
Away from the commune's flashing fairy lights and performative spirituality, the night unfolds above us in breathtaking clarity. The sky is awash with stars, more than I've ever seen, creating patterns I don't recognize against the velvet darkness.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, afraid to break the spell with normal speech.
"The light pollution in cities robs us of this," Marco says, his voice equally soft. "What you're seeing now is what humans have observed for thousands of years. The true night sky."
