I am absolutely horrified.

At some point last night, we fell asleep. When morning arrived and the sun filtered through the curtain of water, my eyes opened to find a new perspective. A whole new world, even.

Then I looked over to Luke, sleeping on his back and hair plastered to his forehead. For a brief moment, I felt like all was right in the world. We were safe. Alive. Then I saw his mangled clothes.

The whole front of his chest is covered with blood.

Memories from last night flood my mind. The moonlight. Skinwalker. Luke pushing me behind him. Claws ripping through the air and slashing across his body in the pitch blackness.

Then, Luke risking being caught again, and me waiting for him in the exact same spot I sit in now.

I bring a trembling hand to my mouth, horrified by the fact that not only is he wounded, but it is because of me.

Guilt settles deep in my chest, wedging a sharp knife into my heart. Luke was hurt protecting me.

Luke stirs, blinking. Upon seeing my stricken face, he immediately jumps up, searching the vicinity for imposing danger.

Finding none, he turns his attention to me. "Sophie, what's wrong?"

I can't tear my eyes away from the four angry gashes in his flesh, red and oozing. He looks down and hisses, as if feeling the sting of it for the first time.

"L-Luke, I—I'm so sorry," I apologize, fumbling over the words. He waves me off, pulling the remains of his shirt over his head and ripping it into long strips. I watch, horrified, as he grits his teeth and wraps the strips of cloth around the cuts, grunting as he knots them.

"It's not your fault," he sighs. "It was naive of me to assume they hadn't occupied the area because of their obstructed senses. They have been widening their territory for years, so I shouldn't have been surprised."

He brushes his knuckles along my cheek and my lip quivers. I can't help but disagree with him. There is something undeniable between us, and the very nature of that attraction is dangerous. It's a feeling that compels me protect him, no matter what the cost. I can understand the impulse to put myself in danger before him, kind of like how I went after Markee.

But unlike Luke, I've been on the other end before. I've been the one left behind. Too many times, I've been the one told to run to safety while the other fought for their life. I've endured the guilt of surviving as if it were a reward for my cowardice. I never want to feel that way again.

Regardless of there being Skinwalkers in the region, there are other dangers that pose a threat, too. Wildlife. The elements. Other humans. What is to stop Luke from putting himself in peril in order to spare me? What if he gets injured again, or worse?

Just thinking about it puts a sour taste in my mouth. I would not be able to stomach it. Now he means too much to me.

So I tell him.

"You don't have to protect me," I mumble, mentally cursing my predisposition to pacifism.

His hand moves to burden my shoulder. "Don't worry, I will do anything to keep you safe." My stomach drops at his words.

I brush aside his fingers. "I don't want you to keep me safe. Not if it means you get hurt!" My voice is stronger this time. I need him to know I mean it.

He blinks, his eyebrows knitting a picture of confusion. "It's just a few scratches. I'm fine, Soph," he argues. My heart lurches at the nickname, but I won't let it deter me.

"You are not. You could have been killed!" I emphasize my grievance by poking him in the shoulder. "I don't want your protection if you sacrifice something for it. What about next time? What if it's not just a scratch?" My voice breaks. "What will I do then?"

"I'm okay," he implores, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as if to prove it. My heart sinks and sinks deep into my chest as I try and fight the warmth of him, so I focus on the blood-soaked rags tied around his torso. My heart clenches, steeling itself against what I will have to do.

"Just look at us. You're bleeding! And it's all my fault. Because you had to escort me to Perseca. Because I don't know anything about the Outlands, or the Skinwalkers! Because you..." I swallow my next words, unable to bear the truth of how he cares for me when I feel so unworthy of it.

"I'm not sure I can do this," I whisper finally.

Luke just stares at me, blinking. "What do you mean?" His voice is low and soft, like he knows exactly what I mean. Do I have to spell it out?

"This—this—" I struggle to find the word to describe the feeling that plagues me.

Weakness.

I take a deep breath. Steel my voice. I want to close my eyes like a coward, but instead I meet his wary gaze.

"Caring for each other makes us weak. How you put yourself between me and that Skinwalker? I can't let you keep doing that, or it will get you killed. We need to stop." Luke frowns like he disagrees, but he doesn't say anything. When I step out of his embrace, his eyes change. Pain. Panic. He understands now.

"No," he whispers, reaching for my hand. I pivot away, even though it hurts to. Even though my skin wants nothing more than to touch his.

"I can't let you get hurt because of me!" I explain desperately. I have to distance myself.

Luke passes a hand through his disheveled hair, like his hands are empty and he cannot stand it. "I won't," he pleads. When he realizes I am absolutely serious, when he sees the determination in my eyes, he seems to sink into himself. "I've only just found you. I can't bear to lose you." His voice cracks.

I bite my cheek, aching. Resolve fissuring. Then I say something that he might hate me for.

"You can't lose what you never had," I tremble, my voice barely above a whisper. "And I would never want an Outlander."

The lie burns. It burns my tongue, singes my throat, incinerates my heart. But it doesn't hurt as much as the expression on Luke's face. Tears spring to my eyes, a sob rising in my throat, and I try to swallow them back, to not let him see.

I would willingly jump off a cliff to never see his pained, betrayed expression ever again.

I tell myself that it is best to put some space between us. Untangle my emotions from his. I don't want to unravel this rope binding us together, but It's the only way to keep him safe.

"Fine."

It's one word. Four letters. Yet the emotion behind it is all it takes for me to regret everything that has come out of my mouth.

"Okay," I reply. Though every atom in my body screams no.

◊ ◊ ◊

Our campsite is destroyed. Our bedrolls are ripped to shreds and supplies litter the ground. Our food is gone. The firepit has been kicked up and ash sits everywhere like fallen snow. Luckily, my leather pack survived. Though the contents are strewn about, I easily salvage the first-aid kit and bring it to Luke.

He doesn't look at me as he takes it and bandages himself up better than what the strips of cloth could do. Once finished, he grabs his spare shirt and pulls it on over his head. I turn away when he's done, not wanting to be caught watching him.

I look around. The fallen Skinwalker from last night is nowhere to be seen. It strikes me odd to imagine that they would bury their dead. It would make them seem somewhat human—a thought much terrifying.

After we gather up the remainder of our belongings in silence, Luke heads off, resuming our march toward Perseca. We should arrive soon with the Old City only half a day away.

Good, I think. This is my mission, what we've journeyed for. I am eager to get there so I can hopefully find a solution to the growing Skinwalker threat get back to Markee. No other distractions.

But as we walk, I cannot stop my mind from going places it probably shouldn't.

For example, how broad Luke's shoulders are as he walks ahead of me. How his strong arms brush aside the foliage. How he seems so well-adapted to the woods, and how attractive that masculinity is.

I try and distract myself by inspecting the foliage we trek through. Before, Luke would show me which plants that are safe to touch and which to stay away from. He would teach me how everything in the forest serves a purpose, and how to exist simultaneously with it and use it to my advantage.

But he offers none of that now. Footsteps are the only thing accompanying our silence.

I don't know how to act around him. The easy air between us is gone, as if we have reverted back to strangers. I do not miss how distant Luke had been at the start of our journey.

King of the cold shoulder. Glacial stares.

Not that I blame him. I did this. I asked for distance and here it is. But it still pains my heart more than any other silence has.

Later, when the sun reaches its peak over us, Luke spots game. Swiftly, he follows the unfortunate critter through the brush.

Stalking is the only thing I can call his movement. He is a predator, silent and efficient. Each footfall a soundless kiss of his shoes on the ground.

Unwillingly, my mind conjures up the very vivid memory of his lips on mine. My chest aches.

Instead, I try and focus on the ache in my calves that has not left me since the first day of travel. In addition, the blisters on my feet are raw, causing sharp pain with each step.

At least this is the kind of pain I can bear.

We end up skipping lunch—the animal bested us and escaped. It's fortunate that we will be in the city and out of the woods today, or else we would have to go to sleep hungry tonight.

It is another three hours before Luke speaks to me.

"We will arrive shortly. You will be required to pass security clearance."

Not only am I surprised by the fact that he is talking to me, but that Perseca has the capability to screen its entries. Then again, he did say that the city is more advanced, so what other surprises are ahead of me?

It takes me a moment to gather my wits in reply, but Luke doesn't wait for me. He's already scaling the final scraggy hill between us and the Old City.

By the time I meet him at the top, my reply is forgotten as we gaze down into the lush valley.

Perseca.