The raptor pulled out her phone from her belt and scrolled through it, seemingly going over her schedule as Nessy fluttered about like a fluffy hurricane. A tablet appeared in my hands courtesy of Nessy. I began to browse the net, watching more historic videos of pradavarians.

  “Hey how come the net works after Systemfall?” I asked Kristi.

  “Hell if I know,” the raptor shrugged. “It really shouldn’t considering how iffy stuff is outside of Ferguson. Yet it does. It’s like… a weirdly half-broken version of the net though that only works on some devices like that tablet. Telegram sometimes works as long as you stay in Ferguson. Sometimes messages and videos do come from the outside. Not good ones. Corrupt gibberish and screams mostly. See?”

  She pointed at the latest comments under the pradavarian world war 2 footage I was looking at. “Absolute gibberish. Nonsensical symbols from profiles with images that look like they were generated by a really bad AI model.”

  “Hrm,” I said, checking one of the post-Systemfall profiles that made a comment. “Yeah. Pretty freaky. Kinda like dead internet theory… except these are probably actual dead people leaving comments, not AIs.”

  "Ta-da!" Nessy announced finally, gesturing to her creation with flourish. "The ultimate pack nest! Room for everyone!"

  Krysanthea eyed the arrangement skeptically. "It's still going to be... intimate."

  "Yep," Nessy agreed, unbothered by this observation. "That's the point of a pack nest. Warmth, security, togetherness!"

  "I'm not used to... togetherness," Krysanthea admitted. “Especially… with you, Paws.”

  “Can’t help not being me,” Nessy shrugged. “N’ways, baby steps! I've positioned your nest at the edge where you can escape if you need to, right by the door. Alec in the middle because he's squishy and needs the most protection against hungry entities. I’m on the window side because I'm the warmest, plus I can take point guard if danger approaches. It's optimal defensive positioning, see?”

  I couldn't help but laugh at her tactical approach to sleeping arrangements. "You've really thought this through."

  "Pack security is no laughing matter," Nessy insisted, though her ears and tail twitched with amusement.

  As we prepared for bed, I noticed Krysanthea's discomfort growing. She stood awkwardly by the expanded sleeping platform, still dressed in her formal dark dress, clearly uncertain about how to proceed.

  "Uhm. I don't have..." she began, gesturing vaguely at her attire. “I should…”

  "Oh! Night clothes!" Nessy exclaimed, diving into her duffel bag. She emerged with what appeared to be an oversized t-shirt with a paw print shaped like a heart on it and PJ shorts. "Here. More comfortable than fancy wear!”

  Krysanthea accepted the offered garment with visible reluctance and vanished into the small bathroom. Nessy changed right in front of me as per usual, not bothering to hide anything.

  When Krysanthea emerged several minutes later, the transformation was striking. Without her formal dress, wearing Nessy's shirt and shorts she looked younger, more vulnerable. The oversized shirt hung loosely on her frame.

  Nessy had already arranged herself at one end of the expanded bed in a silky, thin, pink nightgown with paw prints on it. She patted the middle section invitingly, her blue eyes bright with anticipation.

  "Come on, packmates! S’ slumber time!"

  I climbed in, settling into the middle position.

  Krysanthea approached with visible trepidation, perching on the very edge of the sleeping platform as if prepared to flee at any moment. Slowly, with obvious reluctance, she lowered herself fully onto the bed, maintaining as much distance from me as the limited space allowed.

  "This is ridiculous," she muttered, though there was less bite in her voice than I expected.

  "Shush. It's cozy," Nessy corrected from my other side, already snuggling against me. "Now go to sleep, lizard."

  "I am not a lizard, I'm a—"

  "Shh," Nessy interrupted. "Arguments tomorrow. Rest thoughts only now."

  To my surprise, Krysanthea fell silent, though I could feel the tension radiating from her body. She lay rigid beside me, careful not to let any part of her touch me, while on my other side, Nessy had no such reservations, wrapping herself around me like a fuzzy, warm blanket.

  As the minutes ticked by, I felt Nessy's breathing slow and deepen as she drifted into sleep, her nose pressed against my neck, arm draped across my chest. Occasionally, her paws would twitch slightly, chasing something in her dreams.

  Beside me, Krysanthea remained awake, her amber eyes reflecting the faint moonlight that filtered through the Airstream's small windows. I could sense her watching us, studying Nessy's comfortable abandon.

  "You can relax, you know," I whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping husky. "She doesn't bite. At least, not while sleeping."

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Krysanthea's eyes met mine in the darkness. "I've been on high alert for so long," she confessed, her voice barely audible. "I'm not sure I remember how to... let down my guard."

  "We're in your territory, in your town, surrounded by your family's influence," I pointed. "If there was ever a safe place to try, it's here."

  “I know,” she said. “Still weird. Why have you done this, Alec?”

  "Because division makes us vulnerable," I answered. "You, me, Nessy—we're all fragments of something broken. Different kinds of broken, but broken nonetheless." I gestured vaguely toward the strange, violet sky beyond the window. "Out there, nothing makes sense anymore. Reality itself is coming apart at the seams."

  Kristi seemed to consider my words.

  "But in here," I continued, "we have a chance to create something whole. Something stronger than our individual… brokenness."

  A small, almost imperceptible shudder ran through her. "I've spent two years killing monsters to survive," she murmured. "Two years driving along the same endless road. And now..."

  "Now you're sharing a bed with Systemfall corruption incarnate," I finished for her.

  Her eyes widened slightly. "I didn't—"

  "It's okay," I reassured her. "I know what I am. Or rather, what I'm not.”

  “I was going to say now I’m trying to find a semblance of normality. To rebuild my life in Fergus… I haven’t really told anyone about highway 69 being infinite except for you. I just told my family that it's insanely dangerous and that nobody should drive out there unless they wish a swift death. It’s not death out there though. It’s limitlessness. Paradoxical, only slightly finite, specific infinity. The kind that grinds your mind and soul to nothing.”

  I nodded, considering what it was like for her.

  Nessy made a small sound in her sleep, her arm tightening around me, her nose pressing closer as if even unconscious, she sought to protect me from dark thoughts.

  "She loves you," Krysanthea observed, something between envy and wonder threading through her. "Not just the idea of you, or the memory of someone who wore your face. But you, as you are now."

  "She barely knows me,” I pointed out.

  "Does that matter?" The raptor said. "Maybe in a world gone mad, instant devotion is the sanest response. I do have to admit if it wasn’t for her rabid devotion, you wouldn’t be here… and…”

  I absently ran my fingers through Nessy's fur. The husky responded with a contented sigh, her tail thumping once against the mattress.

  “...and I’d still be feeling utterly hollow while pretending that I’m perfectly fine,” Kristi said. “The stats have finally defined, tabulated exactly how I feel.”

  “So the pack bond is helping?” I asked.

  “I guess? It’s weird, but her song somehow made me less empty,” Kristi revealed. “Plus having you back home is nice. Even if you’re not… the boy I lost. I’m sorry. This whole evening, it was me just running through the motions of what I once was, pretending to be alive when I’m effed up to all hell. Annoying Nessy, stealing you away, showing you off to my family as a heroic survivor. Pointless posturing…”

  “And the declaration of companionship?” I asked. “Was that posturing too?”

  “Maybe,” Kristi shrugged. “Posturing of a different sort. Looking for a way out. Anything to keep the nightmares away, really.”

  “Nightmares?”

  “Honestly I’m fucking terrified of falling asleep,” she confessed. “Terrified of waking up on that highway again, my hands on the wheel. Terrified that the highway will stretch itself into Feguson, devour this valley… reach out and find me and never let me go. Mentally I’m still mostly out there, on that unending road…”

  “Hang on,” I said. “How long have you been back in Ferguson?”

  “Just three days,” she revealed.

  “And have you slept?”

  “Barely. I’ve been existing on raptor microsleep,” she confessed. “I’m coming apart at the seams. I'm so tired. So very, very tired. Yet I can’t… or perhaps simply don’t know how to relax anymore.”

  "You can't keep going like this," I said softly. "You need real sleep."

  Krysanthea gave a small, bitter laugh. "I know. But knowing and doing are different monsters to slay."

  I hesitated for a moment, then made a decision. Without overthinking it, I extended my arm toward her—a simple, wordless invitation.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered warily.

  "Offering support," I replied. "No strings, no expectations. Just... an offer of safety, if you want it—hold onto my hand."

  She stared at my outstretched arm as if it were something alien and incomprehensible. For a long moment, I thought she would refuse—retreat back into her carefully maintained isolation, her cultivated distance.

  Then, with the delicate uncertainty of someone approaching a precipice, she inched closer.

  The first contact was tentative—her scaled shoulder barely brushing against my side. I remained still, letting her set the pace, define the boundaries. Gradually, incrementally, she allowed herself to lean into the contact, her body yielding to exhaustion one muscle at a time.

  "I can't remember the last time someone touched me without trying to tear me apart," she murmured, her voice holding a fragility I'd never heard before.

  "You're safe here," I promised.

  Nessy shifted in her sleep, unconsciously making room as Krysanthea moved closer. The husky's arm remained draped across my chest, her presence steady and warm on one side, while the raptor's cooler, scaled form pressed hesitantly against my other.

  Slowly, with the gradual surrender of someone fighting a losing battle, Krysanthea's head came to rest against my shoulder. Her feathers tickled my neck, her breathing beginning to deepen and slow.

  "What if I dream of the highway?" she whispered, her voice already growing distant with approaching sleep.

  "Then you'll wake up here," I replied simply. "With us. Safe. In our domain. This RV. The highway can’t get you here. This is our place. I learned this from the Mini-Mart Archmage. You just have to believe in a place and it will believe in you, come alive in a way… protect you.”

  Her scaled hand found mine in the darkness, her grip surprisingly gentle despite the lethal potential of her claws. Without words, she conveyed what pride would never let her say aloud—her gratitude, her vulnerability, her tentative trust.

  As sleep finally claimed her, I felt the precise moment her body fully surrendered to exhaustion. The weight against my shoulder grew heavier, her breathing evening out into the steady rhythm of deep rest. Her feathers settled, her tail curled slightly against my leg.

  I lay awake between them for a while longer—the husky and the raptor, two broken pieces of a world I'd never known, a shard of it somehow entrusted to my care. One clinging to me with dogged devotion, the other tentatively accepting comfort from someone who wore the face of her lost love.

  Romantically Apocalyptic discord

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