She waved a hand when she noticed Atlas waiting for an answer. “Oh, I only know a few animals; kangaroos, koalas, pandas, kittens, lemurs—and a couple others.”

His lips quirked again. “You’re only interested in cute animals.”

Annoyance bubbled within her. “No, I’m not. I like tigers, and pygmy hippos. Hippos were one of the most dangerous animals in Africa.” This time she was sure he was holding back laughter. His lips were pursed. Who did that for any other reason?

Romy narrowed her eyes, daring him to laugh. “And how do you know this is Queensland, Australia?”

He picked up his pack, shouldering it. “Because I’m an Atlas.”

He made for the edge of the clearing, looking back when she didn’t follow. “Come on. Let’s go to the ocean.”

There was something off about the black-haired man’s reaction to her. Was he just close-mouthed and unused to talking? He just seemed so comfortable here. And so knowledgeable. How had he survived so long on his own? Romy frowned.

After five years alone, she wondered, shouldn’t he be ecstatic to find another human? Shouldn’t he have asked if she’d been able to contact the Orbitos? Romy glanced around. Atlas was on Earth; he had lived here for years. It was every space soldier’s dream.

Maybe he was worried she would contact the Orbitos. Maybe he thought he’d be forced to return. Which was ridiculous. The Orbitos would leap at the chance to reinstate human life on Earth.

Romy threw her bundle over her shoulder and decided to walk with the man for now.

He hadn’t hurt her, aside from trapping her while they talked. And he’d saved her from the crocodile.

He might be the only other human left on Earth.

She’d follow him.

Really, she had no other choice.

Because she didn’t want to be alone.

* * *

Atlas made very little conversation, though his grey eyes followed Romy’s progress at all times—much to her discomfort.

On the odd occasion Atlas did speak, it was to drag her away from a poisonous plant or point out things to avoid. She learned that the slithering creature was called a snake. The name was vaguely familiar. She’d grown quiet when he told her most were venomous, many fatally so.

Actually, the man made it sound like every single thing in Australia was designed to kill you.

“If it’s so dangerous, then how have you survived so long?” Romy was getting annoyed at how surprised he was that she’d survived for three days.

He didn’t answer—just for something new.

“Don’t touch or eat this plant,” he instructed, pushing it back out of her path with a stick. “It’s a black bean.”

She sidestepped around it, now walking on her injured ankle.

“Worse than nightshade?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve tried either.”