by Alia Hess
Corvin frowned and looked into his lap. Owl stared at the scars on his chest, her heart thudding in her ears. “I feel like I’m rambling a bit, but my point is, I love my brother. And during the time we were apart, I never stopped loving him or missing him. And nothing reminds me of ‘home’ more than him. Which is why I’ve decided to give Son of Owl Corvin’s middle name. Son of Owl’s name is Wren.”
Everyone clapped and Trav grinned. He stood and scooped up their son. “Happy birthday, Wren.” Trav looked at Owl. “Do we have to shave his head now?”
Owl laughed. “No. That’s only a Nisian thing.”
Corvin kissed Owl’s cheek and held his hand out to Trav. They shook and Corvin said, “I apologize that our mom was so into bird names.”
“Could be worse. Do you want to go fishing again sometime soon? Maybe next week?”
Corvin chewed his lip. “Sure. I did a terrible job last time we went out, but it was nice anyway.” He shifted his feet and eyed Trav. “Do you think… Can I—can I hold my nephew?”
Trav nodded. A wide grin overtook Corvin’s face as he gathered Wren into his arms.
Owl’s heart swelled as she looked at her brother, her husband, her son, and her friends. Home. This was home.
~ Epilogue ~
Sasha snorted as he sat on the bed in his underwear.
Dusty stopped and looked at the tablet. “Anise’s flirting has improved.”
“Yeah. You sure it don’t make you mad?”
“You flirt with everyone. You flirt with Corvin. I’m not worried. How’s the construction coming along?”
“Good. Anise send me pictures. I know it was my idea, but I still can’t believe there is going to be Sasha medical facility in Cadestown.”
“You’re spreading like an infection.”
“It’s hospital, baby, it is opposite of that. Sasha is cure for everything wrong with you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Ooh. That’s a good line. You should use that on Anise.” Dusty sat in Sasha’s lap and put her arms around his neck. “Or maybe you should just ‘cure’ me right now.”
Sasha kissed her, then tugged on her ponytail. “Can’t right now, baby. Corvin want me to come over soon. I take rain-water for sure.”
“‘Rain-check,’ babe. Not ‘rain-water.’”
“American phrases confuse me. I will make sweet love to you later, how does that sound?”
“Sounds good. What are you and Corvin going to go do?”
Sasha shrugged and pulled on a shirt. “I don’t know. Just hang out.”
“No parties! And stay on the island, you got it?”
“Baby, you don’t need to tell me that. We will probably just play card game on his deck or something. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take a nap while Poppy is. I’m tired.” Dusty slid into the sheets and yawned.
Sasha tugged the quilt up around her shoulders. “Okay, beautiful wife. You take nap.”
He kissed her forehead, then peeked into the bassinet nearby. Poppy slept inside, swaddled snugly, her dark hair curling around her forehead. Sasha smiled, then drew the curtains. The light in the room dimmed, tiny dust motes dancing through the air. He looked at the serene expressions on his wife and child.
“You know what? Corvin can wait little bit.”
Sasha slid into bed, wrapping his arms around Dusty. She nuzzled into his chest, her soft warmth against him. In his fantasies during their time apart—when he’d shivered from fear and cold on a dirty detainment hut floor—it had been early morning, just the two of them, asleep in bed.
He snuggled into the warm sheets, holding Dusty tightly and staring at his infant daughter.
This wasn’t a fantasy. It was better.
The story isn’t over!
Southsayer (Travelers Series: Book IV) coming soon.
Trouble followed Jack wherever he went, even to tiny towns at the edge of the world.
Meaty fingers dug into his shirt collar. Rancid, moonshine-laced breath buffeted his face, and the man’s chapped lips twitched. “I said, mind your damn business.”
Jack glanced at the woman this asshole had been harassing. She cowered against the splintery exterior of the bar, tears in her eyes. “This is my business.”
“Why? She your consort or something?”
“No, but I come out here to smoke then hear a woman crying for help, I ain’t gonna stand by and do nothing.”
A howl of wind rolled clouds of gray dust across the street beyond the bar, engulfing the little buildings of World’s Edge.
The man grinned, revealing teeth the same color as the dingy haze hanging in the air. His barrel chest shook as he chuckled. “Well, ain’t that noble.” He shoved Jack into the wall, knocking off his stetson. The rough wood snagged against his leather duster. “Get lost before I turn your face inside out, white knight.”
Jack snarled and swung his fist into the man’s jaw. Pain burst in his knuckles. The man’s head snapped back and he stumbled on drunken legs.
Jack batted his smarting hand at the woman. “Get out of here!”
She bolted past and rounded the corner of the building. A fist slammed into Jack’s eye. Stars popped in his vision, and white heat thumped through his skull in waves. The big man, now nothing but a blurry smear, took a step closer. Jack threw several punches into the man’s breadbasket, which had all the give of a cinder block, and his left arm twinged. He hugged it to his chest and backed into the wall.
The man sneered and socked him again; Jack’s head cracked against the paneling. He reeled, heart pounding. His opponent wavered, boots churning up dust, and his fists flew toward Jack. One smashed into the wall beside his head and the wood exploded, raining splinters.
“Ain’t missin’ this time.” The drunk pulled back for another blow.
Jack drove his knee into the man’s balls.
The drunk bellowed and toppled into the dirt. Jack wedged his hat on his head and sprinted from the bar. His fellow caravan guards were inside, but for all he knew, they’d hold him down while the man pounded the shit out of him.
Raindrops drummed on his hat and leather duster as he ran past a feed and tack store and the general goods market. Where to hide? He slipped between the buildings, arriving in front of a tiny church. A metal steeple scratched at the gray sky, and blue-green succulents overflowed from window boxes. A sign hung above the door, the letters crowded together: “The Followers of Sasha.”
Perfect. If I’m safe anywhere, it’s here.
Follow Dusty’s sibling, Jack, into the dreaded South and his own path to redemption in Southsayer.
Coming soon.
~ About the Author ~
Alia Hess grew up in the middle of the Idaho desert and spent their hour-long bus rides to and from school reading books on UFOs and the paranormal. As they grew older and developed a passion for art and writing, they never shook their love of the fantastic and unknown.
They live with their son in the wastelands of America, keeping a close eye out for drones and trashdogs. When not hunched before a computer screen, Alia can be found hunched over their art desk.
Alia enjoys post-apocalyptic novels, coffee, and eavesdropping on the character conversations in their head.
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