Roar and Liv

We’re strong fighters, each of us, but those are still a fool’s odds—and I’ve just sworn to trust Perry’s instincts. Even if it means going against mine by leaving him to this fight.



“Perry!” Liv screams.



“Olivia, run!” he yells again.



There’s only one thing to do and Liv knows it too.



We run.



11



Liv and I sprint for a solid hour, and then we stop. She scents. I listen. And though it’s clear that we’re out of danger, we run for a half hour more.



When we finally stop for good, I bend over my knees. My shirt is heavy with sweat. My legs shake under my own weight.



“Do you think they made it?” Liv asks, out of breath. “Do you think Perry’s all right?”



He has to be, but I can’t seem to find words to tell her that.



She looks at me. “Are you all right?”



My hands are shaking, too. Almost every part of me is shaking. All I see is the man running at her with the ax.



“Roar,” she says. “Talk to me.”



Running has given me a stitch in my side. A dull ache that keeps me from uncurling my back all the way when I try to straighten up. “How could I be all right after what almost happened back there, Liv?”



She looks into the woods, and I know she’s remembering. “I didn’t see him. I didn’t know he was there.”



“Do you know how close that was? He was barely two feet away from you. What if my aim had been off? What if I’d missed?”



She shakes her head. “You never miss.”



“Olivia, that is not the point.”



“Roar . . . you’re hurt.”



“I’m not hurt! I am rage. I want to go back there so I can kill him again.”



“I meant you’re bleeding,” she says. “That kind of hurt.”



“I am?” I look down at myself. “Where?”



“I don’t know,” Liv says. “There’s blood on your face.” She steps closer and runs her hands over my cheeks, her eyes drifting over me. “I don’t see anything.”



Then I feel it—a sting on my chest—and I remember the slap I took earlier. I pull the collar of my sweaty shirt away from me, trying to see the cut.



“Here, Roar. Let me see.” Liv yanks the hem up. Over my head. Off. The cool night against my skin feels like heaven. Liv’s fingers skimming over my chest feel even better.



I suck in a breath as the sting flares. Peering down, I watch her thumb run across a nick that’s about two inches long. Right over my heart, but shallow.



“It’s nothing,” she says with relief. “Barely a scratch.”



I knew that—I hardly feel it—but I can’t resist. “So I get ‘barely a scratch’ when I’m hurt, but Perry gets a half-hour examination?”



“No,” Liv says. “You get this.” She wraps her arms around me and kisses me. It’s a long kiss, and more than a little desperate. We’re both still scared, but my hands grow surer on her body. It’s not long before we’re both breathing fast again.



“Liv,” I say. “I wanted you to be able to choose on your own. I didn’t want to force you. I haven’t asked because I never want to put pressure on you—”



“Shhh . . .” she says. “I know, Roar.”



I rest my forehead against hers. “I thought I was going to lose you.”



Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I feel her breath when she whispers, “I love you, Roar. I always will.”



We find a place to burrow together in the shelter of a pine tree, hidden beneath branches that look timeless. Our nerves are still with us, but there’s something more now. A pull that’s always been between us. That’s only gotten stronger with every day that I’ve known her. I hold her and tell her about all the days we’re leaving behind us, calling up stories, all the memories that are ours, until her laughter fades to the quiet rhythm of her breath as she sleeps.



Then I kiss the top of her head, feeling steady. Feeling full.



The past is behind us now. Tomorrow, we start our future.



I know she’s gone before I open my eyes. I know because I’m calling for her as I wake and look around me. Her satchel is gone, her sword and sheath, but I still feel the weight of her head against my chest and the warmth she left behind.



I call for her, yelling, though I know it won’t matter. Liv made her choice. She didn’t pick me or Sable or the Tides. She chose time. I don’t know how I’m sure, but I am. Liv always runs when she needs to think.



I call her name anyway, yelling to the trees and to the Aether. I don’t stop until I lose my voice and no sound comes out of me anymore. Then I pick up my satchel and pull it over my shoulder.



I’ll give her time, but I won’t give up. Ever.