“I’ll come,” she said softly.

Phobos and Deimos were closest to each other. This was terrible for her, but even worse for Phobos.

She circled the shelter with Thrym, wiping at the sweat dripping from her chin. The air had grown thick with water.

The buckling of the aluminium and the howling of the air was loud enough that Thrym had to raise his voice to be heard. “I think if we stack everything against the wall on the inside, at least the walls won’t cave in during the night.”

Romy nodded in agreement. The main danger was the sharp aluminium hitting them. “Let’s place some wooden bracers on either side and set them into the sand,” she shouted back.

She peeked up at the sky and hoped it would be enough. The ugly bruised clouds were a radical change from the calm serenity Atlas had shown her this morning. Her stomach twisted. Why was he so set on leaving? He’d been alone for five years. She’d told him she wouldn’t tell the Orbitos about him. Didn’t he trust her?

The convenience of their exit point on the beach, five minutes from her knot, hadn’t escaped her notice for a second. Atlas had known her knot was there. But then, why lead her to them when he so obviously wanted to be alone?

She recalled the loneliness in his eyes and rubbed her forehead. Stupid man made no sense, she thought. And what did she care? Odds were she’d never see him again. Her eyes burned as the wind whipped around her face.

“You gonna help?”

Romy started and flashed Thrym an apologetic smile.

They began searching for sturdy limbs to fortify their holding.

“So what was with that guy?” Thrym asked after a while. “When did he crash here?”

She looked up. “How did you know he crashed here?”

Thrym shrugged. “He looked like a soldier. And, well, he would have to be one of us, wouldn’t he?”

She pressed her lips together, unwilling to share information about Atlas without his permission. “You don’t think it’s strange that we’re able to breathe? And drink the water here?”

Thrym thought about it. “There are only three teams. They’ve probably just missed it.”

She’d thought so, too. But Atlas had been here five years. . . .

Romy didn’t know what to think.

She frowned at the ground.

“Romy,” Thrym started. She turned at the hitch in his soothing voice.

“You should just be careful if he comes back. I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

She studied her knot mate. “Like what?”

Thrym shook his head, frowning. “I don’t know. It just made me angry.”

Romy looked down at her hand as a splash of rain appeared on the same palm, which earlier held a eucalyptus leaf. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”