But that was the trap of everyday life. She’d gotten lost in the minutiae and lost sight of what truly mattered, always thinking there would be more time. Until it ran out unexpectedly, like a wall that unexpectedly blocked the path forward. Qalu stared at Krag, her personal wall, her gaze tracing slowly up the length of the weapon he handled with absolute expertise. It wasn’t even that he was trying to intimidate her with it; she knew that. His entire existence was a threat, and he handled the implement of violence like an extension of himself. She had never seen anything like it, so she didn’t know what to call his killing device. It was long, jagged on the side, tapered on one end, but it also rippled with energy, as if he could use it to rend, pierce, or electrocute. Sheer speculation on her part, and she had no intention of asking for a personal demonstration. Soon he might show her whether she wanted him to or not.

“That my target deserves mercy. And that…” A hesitation over choosing the right word? “…compassion can make a difference?”

“I do, yes. On both counts.” Improbable as it seems, maybe I’m reaching him? Hope stirred like a delicate winged cryptid, fluttering until she could scarcely bear the tickle.

“Tiralan must be beautiful,” Krag said then. The rebreather added echoes and air to the bounty hunter’s voice, so Qalu might be imagining the wistfulness.

At first, it seemed like a non sequitur, but she thought she understood. Tiralan was a beautiful world, where justice prevailed. Living there had taught her to be gentle, showing her how to care for others, even if she wasn’t as good at it as some. She wondered where Krag came from and what harsh lessons the hunter had absorbed there.

It must be a hostile place.

Yet Qalu still pounced on the opening. “It’s lovely. And my mothers are waiting for me. I left quite suddenly, only said goodbye in a hasty message. I’m sorry about that. I wish I’d treated them better while I had the chance.”

A growl from Krag, one that sent shivers through her. “We all wish that. But we don’t see those moments until we’re past them. We don’t know it’s too late until it is. Until we’ve seen someone for the last time and said something terrible—or worse, indifferent—without realizing we’d be carrying that for the rest of our lives.”