“Sorry, I know that’s a lot of sawing, and it’s probably going to be a bother to keep the cut straight,” August said, letting her take the saw from him again. “Maybe we can make this easier in the future.”

“It’s fine,” Kalter said. “Are you going to get the blueprint if I’m the one who cuts it?”

“I don’t think so,” August admitted. “I’ll probably just make a single plank on my own later to get it.”

Kalter eyed him out of the corner of her eye as she began lining up the saw for the first cut. The teeth of the blade sank into the wood grain on contact before the entire post shifted as she adjusted her arms along the length of it. Five points of contact and her massive strength were more than enough to keep it perfectly still even as she began to saw downwards. The sawblade sank into the wood, and August found himself nodding as she carefully controlled its pathway.

August watched as she began to tilt the post away from herself as she got far enough into it that she could stand it up completely on one end. Despite the weight of the post and all of the downward force she had to have been applying to it, it wasn’t even sinking into the ground—he watched as she got to the halfway point and then removed the saw before flipping the post over to begin again from the opposite side.

“Do you ever break things?” August asked.

For a moment, he wasn’t actually sure if he’d asked it out loud or just had the thought, but when he managed to tear his gaze away from where her hands were holding the post perfectly still, he found she was looking at him.

“What?” Kalter said, frowning.

“I mean,” August managed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Do you ever use too much force when you pick something up or hold something so tightly that it breaks—by accident.”

Kalter watched him for a moment longer before aligning the saw against the markings he’d made, and for a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer—something he was fine with because he hadn’t really meant to ask.

“When we first woke up on Hekaton,” Kalter said, “Each of us had to go through a series of training assignments to make sure we could actually function in Gaian society.”

Kalter’s render turned her gaze back to him as she spoke. August managed to force himself to stop pretending he was studying the post and met her gaze again—he’d been the one to ask her the question, so he owed it to her to at least look at her while she was speaking.

“Control was one of the things we had to practice, and none of us was allowed to leave the facility until we passed the tests,” Kalter said, eyes shifting across his face as she looked for something. “I made a lot of mistakes back then—I’m far more careful now.”

“Is it a subconscious process now to restrict your strength,” August asked, “Or do you have to think about it every time you do something?”

“First contact with something is always done with a very small amount of force, and I slowly increase from there if it holds up,” Kalter said, furrowing her brow. “That part is almost automatic at this point, but there’s also a small thought in the back of my mind that worries if I’m using too much—why are you so interested in that?”

August didn’t say anything for a moment because explaining his interest would mean broaching the subject of what had happened in the forest—something must have shown on his face, or the silence had grown too long because Kalter looked away from him.

“I answered your questions,” Kalter muttered.

August shifted at what was almost certainly a direct reference to what he’d said to her during the argument—that of the two of them, only he’d been the one who’d answered the question that had been asked. The desire to avoid all mention of the forest and the resistance he’d felt at the topic faltered under the spark of challenge in her words. August used it to bury all of his discomforts and opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was going to say.

“You wouldn’t let go of me when we were in the forest,” August said, ignoring the spark of embarrassment at the words. “I was trying to figure out if that was some reflexive action you weren’t really thinking about or if you really had done it on purpose.”

Kalter must not have expected him to actually respond or perhaps hadn’t thought it would be about the topic they’d both be avoiding because she shifted a bit, and her return to sawing slowed to a stop.

“What does my control have to do with that?” Kalter said.

“If you have to actively think about everything you’re holding onto to avoid breaking it,” August said, “Then it stands to reason that you made a choice not to let me go, and I’m not sure how to think about that.”

“Why are you even thinking about it at all?” Kalter muttered.

“Because you removed any agency I had in that situation by using force to keep me there, and then you told me that you didn’t mean to scare me,” August said, feeling another flicker of humiliation rise up. “Instead of just assuming that you were just using your greater strength to intimidate me, I wanted to try and understand your thought process.”

Kalter shifted again, tilting the post up and started working again without answering—August turned his gaze back down to watch the two saw cuts as they met in the middle, assuming that she’d just dropped the conversation in its entirety. Despite him rising to the challenge of her words and apparently coming out on top—half because he hadn’t gotten an answer to something that had been making it hard to sleep, and half because he’d ruined the atmosphere by bringing it up at all.

The two cuts met in the middle of the post, and the first plank fell away from it, caught by one of Kalter’s right hands. August reached out and took it from her, moving it to sit on top of the stump as she began the second cut. They worked in stilted silence, the second and third planks being produced without a single word exchanged between them.

“You tried to grab me first,” Kalter said after she’d pressed the saw against the top of the post in preparation for the next cut. “I wanted you to know that I was the one in control.”

August, halfway through putting the plank down onto the stack with the others, almost knocked them off the precariously balanced position. He managed to avert the mistake and then placed the plank down on a fresh pile beside the first before straightening up again.

“You don’t think I know that already?” August said, “It was pretty clear that I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to after you almost put your hand through me.”

“That was different,” Kalter said.

“I know it was different, and I already told you that I understand why you did it,” August asked. “But it also made the point pretty clear to me that you were dangerous—”

“That first time is different because I thought you were an enemy, and I was fighting,” Kalter said, apparently unable to allow the comparison to stand. “In the forest, I was trying to show you that we’re on the same side, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore, but I’m the one who gets to decide.”

“Decide what?” August asked.

“I wanted you to know that I decide if you can touch me or not and that you couldn’t do it unless I let you,” Kalter said, not willing to meet his gaze any longer. “I didn’t let you go afterwards because I knew you weren’t strong enough to break my grip, and you looked so—like you were—I don’t know, but it gave me the opportunity to explain.”

August wasn’t actually sure how to address such a direct answer to his questions or how he should feel about it, especially considering the opportunity had come at his own expense, so he settled on—

“I would have listened to you,” August said.

“You walked away from the argument right before that without giving me a chance to say anything, and then you wouldn’t even look at me anymore,” Kalter murmured, “I didn’t want things to get worse.”

It was clearly a massive breakdown in communication or, rather, a failure for both of them to establish a proper one to begin with—although he wasn’t sure their respective starting points had allowed for much to begin with.

“Kalter—” August started before deciding to just let it go. “I think I understand; thanks for explaining it to me.”

Kalter glanced up at that, almost like she’d been startled into meeting his gaze, and he did his best to keep looking at her—the fact that she’d been so unsettled by his sudden refusal to look at her caught him off guard a bit.

“What does that mean?” Kalter said. “Are you still angry at me?”