He was quiet for a long time, but it wasn't awkward. Charged? Yes. Yet it was as if something beyond words resonated between the two of us, and we simply sat within that understanding for a while.

"What you call silver-bleeders are a certain breed of alien," he finally said, his tone low, "The aliens are not all the same. Those that bleed black come in various breeds as well. The ones that bleed silver, though, trigger changes in those that have been... infected, as you call it. Once your genetic code has mutated, there are dormant but related genes you can trigger to activate based on whatever mutation you have. Consuming the meat of the aliens that bleed silver is a great way to do so."

"Hmm," I hummed, surprised that he provided information that was actually - potentially - helpful, "Is there a limit to how much good it can do?"

"Yes," he confirmed, leaning back as he studied me, "there are only so many genes you can activate. I don't know all the science mumbo-jumbo, but the initial... infection... seems to activate seemingly random genetics. Not all people survive it. Whatever is activated, though, determines what the silver-blooded alien meat can later trigger. So, for example, as a mammal beast-type, I will never activate something that gives me vines like you. Eventually, you run out of related, dormant genes that can be activated."

Given how long I've been eating it, I imagine I've tapped out then. All well, it had the potential to be useful.

In the end, though, it turned out to be just another story.

"Interestingly," he continued, his voice light, "the abilities we develop are like muscles. With disuse or lack of exercise, they can atrophy or become sluggish. They can be re-trained back to strength, again like a muscle, but to stay strong one must use it regularly."

"Go to the outlands," I snorted, shaking my head, "You will always have... exercise."

He chuckled then, "I suppose that's true."

"Your time is gone soon," I said suddenly, looking to the sky - it hadn't lightened yet, but the positions of the stars made it clear that in two hours or so it would, "Make good use of your time."

"What would it take to convince you to stay," he said seriously, shifting his approach at my warning.

"You have nothing you can offer me," I reply just as seriously, holding his gaze, "My vengeance is beyond your walls."

"You could help ensure the future," he emphasized, leaning forward, "You are one of the few that can. Does the future of humankind mean so little to you?"

"Yes," I said sharply, narrowing my eyes in warning, "We were left to die. My family did die. No humans came to save us, but some did come to rob us. Your problems are not my problems. I have no interest in saving the world."

He sat back in surprise, his eyes wide and his jaw slack at that response.

Yet, I have no shame. I held his gaze without remorse, not a shred of doubt in my soul at the truth of my answer.

"You have been alone a long time, haven't you?" he finally asked, swallowing thickly as if something had processed that I couldn't quite grasp.

"I lost my brother several years ago," I confirmed, turning away then, "we had been alone, just the two of us, for years before that."

"How old were you when the invasion began, Grace?" Elijah's voice was just above a whisper, as if the answer was terrifying.

"I was 8," I replied with a tone very like his, "My sister was 6, and my brother was 11. We were playing outside when the first rip opened down the street from our house..."

My voice faded as the memories flashed in front of my eyes. It's been something like 30 years since that day... a lifetime ago.

"Rip..." he muttered after a moment, "a portal... there was a portal on your street?"

"The hole they climb through," I clarified quietly, still looking toward a town I couldn't see.

"Is it still there?" he asked, studying me intently.

"No, I closed it long ago."

"What?!" Elijah's gasp finally pulled my attention back to him, and it was clear he nearly leapt from his seat, "What do you mean you closed it?"

His reaction amused me, and I did agree to answer his questions...

"If you kill a silver-bleeder with a symbol between its brows, search its clothes. You will find a black... stick... with a ball on the end of it. Sort of. If you hum at the right frequency, it will glow silver. That's how you turn it on. Hold it to the edge of the... portal... and it will begin to shrink. Keep it on the edge as it closes. Eventually, you will seal it completely."

This is not a secret I feel the need to keep to myself, and if it helps them then perhaps I helped humanity a bit after all.

We'll call it being a Good Samaritan.

"A-are you serious?" he choked, his eyes wide, "The... the black wand with the ball on the end? It closes the portals?"

"Yes," I shrugged, apparently unaware of how important this information is to him.

"Grace, do you know anything else about the aliens?" he said suddenly, leaning forward, "Anything at all?"

"Well of course," I chuckled, looking at him with amusement, "I've studied them for decades. I've made it my mission to understand everything I can... so I can destroy them all."

Elijah stared at me for a long time, like I'd broken his brain beyond repair.

At first his frozen state was amusing, but eventually I simply looked toward the sky to track the time.

If he wanted to waste the bit of his time looking at me like a crazy person, I wasn't going to stop him.

A click at the gate, however, had us both snapping our heads toward the sound.

I leapt up instantly, putting the fire pit between me and the gate as I drew my sword. To be safe, I extended vines from my shoulders and pointed them behind me - in case someone was brave enough to try and sneak up on me.

That would be incredibly unwise, but I digress.

"General," a familiar voice cut through the air, "I've brought the meat you requested."

"Thank you, Commander," Elijah said calmly, standing and greeting the man as he walked into the courtyard.

"Grace," Simon nodded at me, but I didn't relax despite his attempt at a smile - in fact, I glared openly at him in challenge.

I already learned his kind eyes are a lie.

"That will be all, Commander," Elijah said after a moment, "I believe Grace is uncomfortable around you."

"Grace, I am sorry about-" Simon began, looking convincingly remorseful as he began to apologize, but Elijah grabbed his arm and dragged him away with a few sharply whispered words.

A single apologetic look back was all Simon gave before scurrying back out through the gate.

"I apologize for the interruption," Elijah sighed, nodding toward the bundles of meat - wrapped in cloth and tied with string, "The meat that paid for your time."

"Mm," I hummed in acknowledgment, though my sword never dipped and my eyes stayed fixed on where Simon disappeared.

"Grace," Elijah tried again, sitting back in his chair and looking at me sternly, "I'm confident we could find a mutually beneficial arrangement if you were willing to consider negotiating. There are a lot of resources at my disposal, a lot of opportunities for-"

"You want me to stay here," I snorted in interruption, slowly sheathing my sword and retracting my vines, "yet there is no price I am willing to pay for my freedom. You want children, yet there is no price I am willing to pay to force new life to suffer in this world."

I finally allow my eyes to fall on him where he's sitting with a look of shock on his face before delivering my final words.

"You want a woman, but I am a hunter. You want to protect me, but I am what the aliens you would protect me from fear. There is nothing you can offer that will make me something I am not."

I watched him swallow thickly, and found his lack of composure when I focused fully on him amusing.

I know that my power can be... felt... by those around me. The aliens have reacted enough to make it clear there is something physical in the strength I carry.

I haven't been around humans enough to know much, but in this moment it's clear that it has a similar effect on them too.

"W-what if we traded information for supplies?" he finally choked out, holding my gaze despite the clear discomfort it causes him, "You can also bring excess meat here. In exchange for meat and any information you have on aliens that can benefit us, I can give you supplies."

"What kind of supplies?" I'm genuinely curious, allowing the natural pressure behind my presence to fade - because there are things that I need that are difficult to come by.

Can I make lye? Yes. Do I want to deal with making my own soap? No. No I do not.

"There is very little I cannot offer you," he rushed, clearly grasping on the first bit of ground he's gained, "Tools, hygiene kits, weapons... things I don't have here I can order and have delivered."

Well... okay some of that could actually be quite useful, I'll admit it.

"In exchange for these supplies, you want me to..." I began, trailing it off intentionally with a question.

"Return regularly," he said immediately, straightening his back, "say, at least once a month. Each time you return, you and I will meet. We'll talk. You give me updates from the outlands and any information you have on aliens that could be helpful. In exchange, whatever you ask for is yours."

"I will not sleep here," I said sharply, narrowing my eyes at him, "and I will meet only you. No one else."

"Agreed," he didn't hesitate, a smile slowly growing across his face, "Would you agree to being registered?"

"I don't know what that means... so no," I dismissed his suggestion with a wave, "You will meet me at the gate in 28 sunsets. I will arrive when the third star is visible in the sky."

"That... is a very interesting way of keeping track of things," he said after a pause, "I... could just give you a comms device? It works as long as you are within 50 miles of the city walls."

"No, I do not want that," I dismiss again, remembering vaguely that electronic devices can be tracked.

I don't understand these things enough to know the risks, so it's best to avoid them completely.

"Uh," Elijah blinked then chuckled, "Sure, alright. 28 sunsets. 3 stars. Got it. What supplies should be waiting for you when you come by next time?"

"Soap for the body and for clothes," I said slowly, furrowing my brow as I considered it, "toothpaste and a toothbrush. Sharpening stones for blades. Combat appropriate clothing, including socks, underwear, and boots. Flow underwear. Multiple sets. A thick blanket and a pillow. Scissors. Nail clippers. Thread. Paper and pencils."

I paused, studying him to figure out if that was too much or if I could keep going.

That feels like a lot, right?

He looked like he expected more though, so I kept going.

I'm not going to say no to more supplies.

"Are you able to provide food?" I asked then, tilting my head curiously, "Like dried fruit, coffee grounds, flour, bottled water, and canned goods?"

I don't need those things, technically, but they sure as hell would make my life a whole lot easier.

Especially water. I'd found a how-to book years ago that helped me pull water from the air, but the damn tower I built in town got destroyed regularly and I haven't bothered trying to build a new one in a long while. Instead I've had to find random sources of water and boil it, then store it in my cabin.

I'm always running low.

"We can," he confirmed with a nod, "Do you know your measurements for clothing and shoes?"

"Measurements?" I blinked looking down at the clothes I'd patched together from scraps, "Uh, no. Just... give me your size. I will fix them."

As long as it's too big, I can just adjust them.

"I could do that," he laughed, "or you could give me a second and I could take your measurements?"

"No touching," I said immediately, snapping my eyes to his.

"Okay, no touching," he raised his hands in surrender, even as he sighed, "I can get you something that's obviously a bit too big. I'll try and get as close as I can though, to limit the need for alterations."

"Mm," a hum of acceptance is plenty before I move toward the meat.

"What are you doing?" he immediately straightened in his seat, looking at me in confusion.

"Leaving," I said simply, picking the bundles up with ease, "the sun will rise soon. I will return in 28 days."

He scrambled to his feet, rushing toward me where I stood - but I shot a vine out toward him in warning to make him skid to a stop.

"Careful, Elijah," I warned, my voice low, "it would take nothing to kill you and everyone I meet on my way out."

"Hang on," he breathed, his hands up as he eyed my vine warily, "I'm just going to walk you out. I'd like to ask more questions on the way, if that's okay."

"That's acceptable," it came out as a grunt, and that's fine - that's about how I feel about this entire situation at this point.

Acceptable. Barely.

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