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“Harth! Harth! Love, don’t move.” Tarkyn’s voice was ragged and desperate, his hands immediately appearing on her arm, pressing her down into the furs—but even that small movement hurt and she struggled to breathe.

“What—where am I? Why can’t I see—”

All at once the lights came on—there’d been something over her eyes and he removed it, pulling back whatever scarf he’d used, leaning over her, his face lined with worry, his eyes deeply shadowed and… haunted.

Hunted.

Harth gazed on her mate, her pounding heart suddenly easing because he was there. but Tarkyn was still tense. He checked her pulse and searched her gaze, then called quietly over his shoulder for someone behind him to come, then turned back to her, stroking her hair back from her face. “Don’t move. You were hurt, Harth. Badly. Very badly. You almost… we almost lost you. But you’re here, thank the Creator that you’re here.”

There was an uncomfortable several minutes where Harth was poked and prodded by several healers—though mostly Jayah, who also looked very tired, but wearily happy—and then finally, it seemed they were all satisfied.

Finally, the others left, leaving the lamps on low, and it was only Tarkyn, kneeling next to the bed, holding her hand and stroking her hair.

.....

They were in his tree, she realized. How odd.

“We’re at your house?”

“Our home,” he corrected gently. “I believe everyone heals better at home. And… I didn’t want to be disturbed with you. If… if this was going to be a journey… I wanted you here.”

She blinked, swallowing, as she realized what he’d meant.

If she was going to die, he’d wanted her to do it at his home—their home—not at the healing center, or somewhere else.

Dear God, his strength.

There was a long moment when they just stared at each other. Then she finally spoke.

“You’re safe,” she said simply. She wanted to reach for him, but whenever she moved, even the slightest bit, her entire body lit up in fire that started in her shoulder and burned through the rest of her in a blink.

He nodded. “I came for you, Harth. I would have died rather than lost you to them—and they knew it. They weren’t getting through me. Not one.”

She smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He gave a small smile, but his eyes still looked haunted.

“What is it?” she asked, her heart beginning to beat faster. Something was making him sad. They weren’t the only ones who’d faced enemies.

“Things from the west have been… silent so far. We haven’t yet heard whether… whether they defeated the bears to bring back Rika.”

Harth closed her eyes for a moment and just felt the sadness that washed over her. Why couldn’t anything be simple? Pleasant! Why couldn’t they have just one win? Then she opened her eyes and saw her mate, healthy, strong, and safe… and realized they did. They had a lot of wins.

“Are you okay?” she asked him quietly.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m wasn’t—”

“Are you okay in your heart?”

Tarkyn broke off. Then looked down, his fingers tightening on hers. “Elreth is… beside herself. Afraid that… that her brother… after she lost the rest of her family…”

“Oh no.”

“It’s way too early to give up hope. We’re just… there’s been no messages, and no sending from the wolves. It’s possible they’re out of range, but we sent the hares with them for that purpose. So everyone is… very tense.”

Harth understood. When they’d first arrived in Anima, they had all been somewhat scattered. It had taken days to be even partly sure who had made it. There were still missing faces among the Chimeran clans. The hardest part was not knowing if they’d made it to Anima, but just to a different part of the land and were living happily and healthily… or if they’d been caught. Or if they’d been taken to some strange world that wasn’t safe…

There was no way to know. Only trust in the Creator to comfort them.

But this? Knowing that people had gone to battle and now were silent? Harth felt sick.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered. “I know it’s selfish. But I’m so glad.”

He nodded, his brows pinched together and eyes shining. “Me too,” he murmured, then dropped his forehead to their clasped hands. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life, Harth. I almost lost you.”

“I’m here. I’m safe. I’ll get better. I can feel it. I can feel that I’m healing,” she said in an attempt to soothe him.

But when he lifted his head, his eyes were red and shining, tears welling over his lashes. “Harth I was… I was not in a good place when I thought I’d lose you.”

She swallowed, moved by his emotion. “I wouldn’t be either, if I thought you were—”

“I begged him to take me too if He was taking you. I begged him to make the bond Ardent, or whatever it is—so that I’d go too, if you died.”

“Tarkyn… don’t do that.”

“I wanted that. I couldn’t imagine—”

“This is your home! People love you here. They need you—my people need you too!”

He sucked in a deep breath. “That’s… that’s one good thing that’s come out of this.”

“What’s that?”

“True unity—Anima and Chimera. Zev and I… we fought alongside each other. The male is—”

“Is Sasha okay?” Harth gasped, suddenly remembering.

Tarkyn nodded. “She was drugged. But she’s over at the healing center, resting, and getting angry with them for keeping her there. She says she’s uninjured. Just angry.” He finally smiled. “And Zev is… doting. Completely unconcerned about anything but her and their son. He’s… he’s a different male, Harth.”

“Oh, good,” Harth said, smiling. “I’m glad everyone will get to see the real heart inside him now.”

Tarkyn shook his head, like he marveled at her. Then he reached up to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his hand. “My Harth. My heart. You are… the heart that beats for me, now, Harth. Please… stay here. Forever. Don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t,” she said immediately. “And also—ditto.”

Tarkyn frowned. “Ditto? Is that a human word?”

Harth snorted, but the contraction of muscles hurt so badly, so she groaned. There was a moment that she simply lay there breathing, while Tarkyn stroked her hair and prayed quietly. But when the worst of it had passed, she opened her eyes again to meet his.

“Ditto means the same. Whatever you said, I say. Whatever you do, I do. However you love, I love… Ditto.”

“Ditto.”

“Ditto.”

He smiled, then his eyes got thoughtful. “Would that be a good name for our son?”

Harth spluttered again, then grimaced against the pain. “No, Tarkyn,” she wheezed finally. “Ditto is not a good name for our future child.”

Then she opened her eyes, about to tease him for how silly it sounded, but found him staring at her intently.

She blinked. “What? What is it?”

He tightened his grip on her hand. “You were given a blood transfer,” he whispered. “A process the Anima have done in times of extreme injury for a long time—don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe. And we used a Chimeran wolf just to be sure we weren’t giving you anything that might change you further.”

“A blood transfusion? You can do that here?”

Tarkyn shrugged. “It isn’t easy, but yes. And you were… you lost a lot of blood, Harth. They had to. Especially after… after they figured out…” he blew out a breath and looked down, a strange expression on his face.

“Tarkyn, what’s going on?!”

He lifted his eyes, and they were red and bloodshot again, shining. But he was smiling. “When they were helping you, one of the healers… she noticed a shift in your scent. Too subtle even for me to pick up, but she swears it’s there.”

Harth’s heart stopped. “I… what are you saying, Tarkyn?”

He kissed her knuckles. “Your son—or daughter—may not be too distantly future, Harth. You’re… you’re going to have a baby. They were worried at first that you’d lost too much blood. But you were in your wolf. And after they gave you more… so far everything seems okay. So far… so far we’re hopeful.”

Harth sucked in such a breath, it hurt and her body froze. So she spoke through the bond because she couldn’t wait.

‘You’re serious? You’re truly serious? We’re going to have a baby?”

He beamed at her, stroking her face. “I am so disgustingly happy to say yes, Harth. Yes. We’re going to have a baby.”

He leaned over her then, gathering her in so very carefully, trying desperately not to disturb her wound.

He did, of course. She had to hold her breath until he’d put his arm around her and buried his fingers in her hair, pressed his nose under her jaw, and whispered his love. She couldn’t breathe for a short time, because of the pain. But then it was a battle not to weep with joy—because the hitching of sobs would hurt too much too. So she swallowed and swallowed, and clung to him, thanking God that they’d made it. That her mate was still here, and her people were at peace.

No matter what else happened, that was something she would always, always be truly grateful for.