He leaned forward, placing his head next to hers. “It isn’t easy now and it won’t be easy later, but we’ll get through it, Phryne. You and I. We’ll look out for each other. We’ll take care of each other and things will work out.”

He didn’t know if he believed that or not, but he said it because it seemed that it needed saying. If they weren’t committed to that much, then he didn’t see any hope for all the rest of it—for the larger threats of the loss of their homelands and the destruction of their peoples, for a failure of any form of magic to survive if theirs was lost, for a collapse of what remained of civilization and a quick descent into anarchy.

She inclined her head sideways until it was touching his own. “I could go with you when it’s time, Pan. When you decide to go out into the larger world, to leave the valley and go exploring, I could go with you. I would like that. I could learn to be a Tracker. You know I could. You’ve seen what I can do. I’m strong enough.”

He put his arm around her and hugged her against him. “I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.”

“Will you take me with you, then?”

Her voice was so plaintive that it almost broke his heart. She was asking so much more than what the words suggested. He could tell it from the tone of her voice and in the hesitancy of the way she spoke. He could feel it ripple through her where they touched heads and shoulders. She wasn’t just asking if he might consider her request; she was begging.

“Please, Pan. Will you take me?”

He took a deep breath, his arm tightening about her. He knew what he should say, what it made sense to say, what everything that was practical and right suggested he say. But he also knew what she needed to hear. He knew how close she was to coming apart. As strong as she was, as steady as he had seen her on so many occasions when there was every reason for her to crumble, it was different now. Here, in this place and time, she was right on the edge.

“I’ll take you,” he promised.

She didn’t say anything in response, didn’t do anything. She went as still as the air in their forest of dead trees, staring down at her feet, keeping the contact with him that she had formed, but not increasing the pressure.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You’re not just saying it?”

“What do you think?”

“I think maybe I love you.”