9th Life

Ch. 19 Seeing His Side

Only a cat can seem well-traveled without ever leaving home.

The morning's hike was accompanied by a resigned silence. We had our plan. Taren hated it. A couple of hours had actually passed before he reappeared. He'd looked to me, seen resolve, and kept his distance.

Bastian didn't leave me with him again, which made it harder to deny Taren's claim. And it followed that if Bastian held any thought that I shouldn't be around him, he never intended to return home after this necessary visit. It was one thing to avoid emotional entanglements with one person and quite another with an entire kindred who couldn't help fearing you.

After lunch, the hours of hiking slipped by in light conversation, with us laughing often as he shared stories from his life before—BC: Bastian's Childhood. ...or Before the Curse.

A moment of distraction and he was up a tree, telling me from how high he'd once fallen. He was lucky he'd only broken his arm.

"My only thought was to keep up with Marensei. At fifteen, even we're stupid if it means impressing a girl. As fate would have it, I was the one who fell, even though I was the only one being cautious. I doubt she knew the meaning of the word."

He dropped to hang off the branch he'd been standing on and then let go. I held my breath even though he landed as easily as if he'd simply hopped off my porch.

"I like your caution," he said, draping an arm around my shoulders. "She took years off my life with worry that I'd be left to deliver her back to her parents in pieces."

I cringed inwardly at the truth he overlooked, quickly asking, "So how close are we then, if you walked home with a broken arm from here?"

"Little less than an hour at this pace. Considerably longer if a girl is fussing over you."

I elbowed his ribs. "I don't think you've changed much."

"I'm a lot more cautious."

I harrumphed before asking, "Where's Taren?"

Bastian pointed in the distance, and I could just make out the cat on an outcrop of rock, his spots blending into the background.

"Are you related?"

"Not really."

"Not to sound ungrateful, but why did he do it?"

"Save my neck, you mean?"

"Neck, abs, that glorious mane of hair. I doubt his reasons matched any of mine." I smiled and slid my hand lower. "Why did he save your ass?"

"Can you please not entice me while asking me to think of him?"

"You'd think a man of multiple forms could multi-task better."

He pulled me off my feet to wrap my legs around his waist without breaking his stride. "I'm sure if I practice really hard, my skills would satisfy."

"Mmm. Practice does make perfect." Funny how much I loved not knowing whether his choice of words was meant to be so bold. From any other guy, really hard would have been an instant eye-roller. My culture's no-holds-barred approach to everything came at a cost, and we couldn't even see it. In my opinion, we were passing that brief time where shock value could tantalize. Only now could I see what a poor substitute it had been. The rush Bastian lit in me tended to leave me captivated, full on wonderstruck—something shock value could never induce. I doubted he'd understand that the kiss I gave him now was out of gratitude. What I said was, "But whatever Taren's reasons, I'm exceedingly grateful. I just wondered. I mean, regardless of whether he was the best choice, it was quite an undertaking."