​The words were quiet, but they cut through her screeching like a knife. Kulu didn’t move toward her. His hand stayed firmly in Hana’s grip, his gaze fixed on Hana’s flat stomach with a look of profound, dazed wonder. The guilt that had been pulling at his heart snapped.

​"You tried to push her," Kulu said, his voice growing steady, his amber eyes finally hardening as he looked at the woman who had treated him like a footstool for seasons. "You knew she had no wings to catch her. You knew there were stones behind her. And you did it while she is carrying..." He trailed off, his throat working as he looked back at Hana.

​Hana didn’t soften. She didn’t play the fragile mother. She stepped up beside Caspian’s massive, heaving side and looked at the crowd.

​"I told you I was a survivor," Hana said, her voice echoing off the bunker’s steel hatch. "In my world, we don’t wait for the monster to bite. We kill it while it’s opening its mouth. Lira opened her mouth, and I shut it."

​One of the Elders stepped forward, his hands raised in a peace gesture, his eyes locked on Caspian’s smoking nostrils.

He was one of those who had acted cocky, asking why the lander dwellers wanted to enter their cliffs.

But now, he could see the fire king was enraged, and it didn’t seem like Kulu would fight for them. He was on the female human’s side.

They could not make an enemy out of the Dragon King.

"Great King! Great Female! We did not know... We thought..." his words fumbled. "The Saint is precious to us, but if the Mother of Dragons is among us, we have committed a grave sin!"

​"A sin?" Caspian hissed, stepping forward until his talons were inches from Lira’s trembling legs. "You let this insect touch my mate. You let her breathe the same air as my heir."

​"Caspian, enough," Hana commanded.

​The Dragon-King paused, his tail twitching irritably, but he didn’t strike. He leaned down, his massive head coming level with Lira’s face. He let out a hot, sulfurous breath that singed the edges of her hair.

​"If I see you near her again," Caspian promised in a low, terrifying rumble, "I won’t just burn your wings. I’ll turn this entire mountain into a pillar of ash. Do you understand, little bird?"

​Lira couldn’t even nod. She just choked on a sob, her face pale as death.

​Hana closed her eyes for a second and then turned her head to the Boars, who were standing frozen with a silver crate.

"Taga! Why have you stopped? We have work to do. Caspian, Kulu—the sun is nearly down. Get the rest of these crates to the den and let’s be fast about it."

​Kulu looked at Lira for a short time and then turned to Hana, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to touch her, to check for himself if there was truly a life growing inside her. But he saw the cold, ’manager’ look in her eyes and knew better. He bowed his head low—not in shame this time, but in total, soul-deep submission.

​"Yes, Hana," Kulu murmured.

​He turned toward the crates, his wings snapping open with a renewed, fierce energy. He didn’t look at Lira again. He didn’t look at his tribe. He grabbed the heaviest crate on the pile and took to the sky, his silhouette a defiant streak of red against the blue.

​Caspian lingered for a moment, his golden eyes scanning the Falcons until every single one of them looked away. He leaned into Hana, his snout brushing her shoulder in a rare, brief display of possessive affection.

​"I’ll be back fast," he rumbled. "If any of them blink at you the wrong way, I’ll smell it from the clouds."

"I’ll be fine. Trust me." She said, and he huffed, smoke flaring out of his nostrils, and he spread his massive obsidian wings.

Hana watched him fly off, the wind from his wings nearly knocking her over. She stood alone in the clearing, the master of the ridge, while the ’Saint’ was helped away by her whispering, terrified females.

Hana looked down at her belly and then at the system screen flickering in her peripheral.

> [CIVILIZATION PROGRESS: 5.5%]

> [NEW TRAIT UNLOCKED: ’Iron Mother’ - Your commands over your mates are 20% more effective during pregnancy.]

Hana let out a little breath and then turned to head back into the sterile silence of the bunker one last time, her bare feet silent on the industrial floor.

The Boars were grunting as they hoisted the final, heavy solar panels, moving with the slow, careful rhythm she had demanded.

It would be bad if they broke even a single one.

She began to scan the corners to make sure they did not miss a crucial screw or bolt.

​Then, as she scanned the corners, her eyes caught on a small, fuzzy shape wedged under a metal bench.

She bent down, her fingers brushing the coarse fabric of a small teddy bear. It was a remnant of a world long gone, but the dark, dried streaks of blood on its ear made her breath hitch.

A child had held this while the world ended. A child had ended with this toy.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if to visualize the kind of fear the child had felt in their last moment; how they wished for their mommy and daddy.

The world was cruel, and having a child during such a cruel time was even worse.

She opened her eyes and looked at the teddy and held it tight.

If I wash it, it’ll be as good as new. She told herself, a sad smile playing on her lips, and then she walked out with it.

​When she emerged from the bunker, the sun was already setting for real this time. The gold and orange glow painted in the sky was beautiful.

The Boars were just setting the final panels onto the red dirt, and in the distance, the silhouettes of Caspian and Kulu were growing larger as they returned for the final haul.

​But a shadow moved from the high ledges. Three shadows.

​Three Falcon warriors—Gulian, Tarrot, and Manel—descended with a violent thrash of their wings.

Gulian, the largest of the three, landed with Lira cradled in his arms. She looked like a broken doll, her eyes were as red as her hair from crying, as she pointed a trembling finger at Hana.

​"So," Gulian hissed, his wings flared in a threat display. "I heard a land-crawler had the nerve to lay hands on our mate."