Heydar had been right, the tattoos were itching far less, but when she really pushed herself, she could actually feel the living pigment shifting under her skin. It quelled her aches and pains and gave her more stamina and strength, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing any permanent damage to herself pushing this hard before she had fully healed.

It was a novel sensation, having what amounted to superpowers, in a way. She couldn’t fly or bend steel bars—at least not that she knew of—but nevertheless her body was suddenly capable of so much more. And her abilities seemed to be growing.

All because of some mystic runes? Tammy would never believe me, she mused. Darla’s spirits darkened even as her pace remained steady. Of course, I’ll probably never see her again. Or anyone I know, for that matter. The only humans I’ve got are maybe some survivors, and who knows where the hell they might be?

She looked at the towering alien walking ahead of her, his strides smooth and his eyes alert for danger. She was far from home, and on an alien world, no less, but somehow she felt almost safe with Heydar nearby.

Darla jumped when her ribs suddenly flared with a crawling itching sensation.

“What is it?” she blurted, dropping her pack and lifting her shirt in a panic. “Is it a bug? Get it off!”

Heydar’s warm fingers touched her skin, tracing the lines he had marked her with. The path of the odd sensation. A strange look flashed in his eyes.

“You are developing the Infala,” he said.

“The weird rune you were talking about? Okay, I guess.”

“You do not understand. This is highly unusual. Your other runes are settling in nicely, though it will take as long as it takes to finalize the process. But the Infala? That should take far longer to develop.”

“You’re saying I’m gonna have some tattoo find me a boyfriend a bazillion miles from home? How on Earth can some magic alien tattoo ink possibly find what no dating app ever could?”

“You are not on Earth,” he noted over his shoulder.

“Yeah, no shit. It’s just a figure of speech,” she snapped.

He slowed his pace ever so slightly and turned to meet her gaze. “You are upset.”

She forced herself to take a deep breath, then another. “Look, it’s not you, okay? I’m just stressed out here. And now you’re telling me that this freaky, itchy tattoo is going to play matchmaker? It’s not normal. Nothing about this is normal. This world is not normal. These tattoos are not normal. You’re not normal.”

His jaw flexed, and he gave a tiny nod, then turned from her and continued forward, his pace quickening slightly. She clenched her fists and took several deep breaths, forcing her heart to slow down and her blood pressure to lower. Fighting with the one person actually on her side here was not going to make things better.

“Hey, wait up!”

Darla hustled after him, closing the gap quickly. She’d hit a nerve, clearly, but she was just too pissed off about, well, everything to care at the moment. She kept her mouth shut, resolved not to make things worse, at least, and they walked in silence from that point on, Heydar leading the way, weaving through sparse trees and around rocky outcroppings.

About an hour later the terrain had shifted again, transitioning from dense foliage and trees to a far more barren landscape of rocks and sparse scrub brush. They seemed to be trekking around a geological uprising, though what sort of stone it might have been made of Darla hadn’t the slightest. Granite? Slate? Who knew what sort of materials had formed on this alien world.

What she did know was the footing was getting trickier and bits of stone would slough away underfoot from time to time. Even Heydar slowed his pace to tread more carefully across the rocks.

A looming stone wall rose above them, far too unsteady for them to climb over. It would be the long way around, it seemed. Interestingly, there were thick vines running up the stone face periodically. Many were dry and crumbling, but a few appeared to be alive and solidly in place.

It made Darla wonder if there was perhaps a water source somewhere within the stone. Maybe a natural spring that was running just below the surface. Water erosion could explain some of the instability of the rocks, and maybe they’d even be able to find a small rivulet from which to get a fresh drink.

She stopped at the next vine they passed and leaned in close to examine it.

“Hey, I think these things are tapping into a water supply,” she said, tugging at the vine.

“Don’t!” he shouted, but it was too late.

Darla looked up as a loud crack shattered the silence. Shards of rock flew from the stone face, spraying out as the vine’s tendrils burst from their foundations. She stared in shock as the wall became boulders, all of them hurtling toward her as the cliff gave way.

An impact knocked the breath from her lungs, sending her flying, but this wasn’t a cold and jagged stone, it was warm. Warm, strong, and familiar. Darla felt several jolts as the rocks fell and deflected away, then as quickly as it started, everything stopped.

Small rivers of gravel streamed past her, flowing here and there, but their larger cousins were done with their tumultuous bombardment. Heydar’s arms released her as he slid back and slowly rose to his feet.

His hair was full of stone dust and gravel and his shirt had been torn in several places from the impacts. Darla realized that he had covered an impossible distance to protect her, tackling her and putting his own body between her and the falling rocks.

I didn’t think he was paying attention, she marveled. And how did he move so fast? She knew the basics of the pigments deep in his skin, but even with his enhancing tattoos, she was in awe of his display. And he had done it without a moment’s hesitation. Not a flicker of doubt.

He had saved her life.

“Are you okay?” she asked, gingerly reaching out and touching his bruised arm.

“I will be fine,” he said stoically, but when his eyes briefly met hers a flicker of something new was smoldering behind his gold-rimmed irises. Pain, clearly, but there seemed to be more than that.

Heydar quickly turned from her and brushed the dust from his shoulders and arms. How he wasn’t seriously hurt was beyond her. He had taken the full brunt of boulders—actual fucking boulders—and seemed hardly any worse for wear.

He took off his battered pack and dug through its contents. Several items had been crushed beyond use. Those he buried underneath a large rock, not wishing to carry them but also taking care not to leave any sign they had been there. Rock slides happened in nature, and this looked like any other.

Assessing the remaining supplies, he stood tall, rolling out his shoulders and neck before sliding the pack on once more. He glanced over at Darla, his eyes still full of something new.

“Come,” he said. “We must continue.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he interjected. “There is no need to discuss it further. It is still a long way off, and given the current terrain, we need to make it to secure ground by nightfall.”

“Right. Okay, got it.”

“And please, be more careful. You are still healing, and I may not always be close enough to protect you.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, his look igniting a warm flicker in her belly, the heat settling lower, her legs feeling a tingle as her stomach did a little flip. Without another word he turned and started walking once more.

Darla was beside herself, unsure what to make of what had just happened. He had just risked his life to save her, and without provocation or her even calling for help. Sure, he had been somewhat looking out for her since they escaped the Raxxians, at least a little, but this? It was utterly unexpected.