Oryn POV
I heard her crying before anyone else did.
Three hours after Brutus claimed our cave, Maya had finally stopped moving. Stopped organizing. Stopped being brave. She'd slipped away to the far corner where we kept our pathetic water supply, and now soft, choked sobs echoed against stone.
She was trying to be quiet about it. Trying to hide her breakdown from fifteen males who depended on her strength.
But I heard everything. Blindness had made my other senses sharp as knives.
"Should we..." Kael whispered nearby, his heartbeat spiking with concern.
"No," I said quietly. "Let her have this moment. She's earned it."
"But—"
"She's been holding us together since yesterday. Facing down Zyra. Making impossible promises. Fighting off Brutus. Examining all of us like we weren't starving predators who could snap her like a twig." I tilted my head, listening to her ragged breathing. "She's terrified, Kael. She just hides it better than we do."
The crying stopped abruptly. I heard her splashing water on her face, composing herself. Thirty seconds later, her footsteps returned—quick, purposeful, pretending nothing had happened.
"Oryn," she said, her voice only slightly rough. "Can we talk? Privately?"
My heart stuttered. In three months of exile, no one had requested private conversation with the blind panther. I was useful for plant knowledge but otherwise avoided. A reminder of failure. Bad luck.
"Of course," I said, standing carefully. I'd memorized the cave's layout by now—seven steps to the entrance, three to the water corner, five to where Brutus snored in mocking sleep.
Maya's hand touched my elbow gently. "May I guide you? So you don't trip."
The question surprised me more than anything else that day. Permission, not assumption. Choice, not pity.
"Yes," I managed.
She led me outside to where the stream burbled. The morning air was cold but fresh, carrying scents of wild sage and the mineral tang of water. We sat on smooth rocks, and I heard her take a shaky breath.
"I need your help," she said. "Specifically your help, Oryn. Not anyone else's."
"I'm blind," I reminded her, waiting for the inevitable disappointment. "I can't farm. I can't build. I can barely hunt. I'm not sure what use—"
"You know plants," she interrupted. "Better than anyone here. Kael told me you were a healer before... before the accident."
The word 'accident' instead of 'curse' hit me like a physical blow. No one called it an accident. It was always 'the curse' or 'the punishment' or 'what you deserved.'
"I was," I said carefully. "Until I killed ten people with my ignorance."
"You made a mistake trying to save lives during a famine. That's not the same thing." Her voice was firm, no pity in it. Just facts. "I'm a doctor, Oryn. I've lost patients. It destroys you every time. But you don't stop trying to save the next one."
Something cracked open in my chest. Three years of guilt, finally meeting someone who understood.
"Why do you need me?" I asked, my voice rough.
"Because I know farming theory from books and documentaries. But this world has different plants. Different growing patterns. You have knowledge I don't. Plant identification, medicinal properties, what's poisonous, what's edible." She shifted closer. "I can't build a miracle alone, Oryn. I need a partner. Someone who understands growing things. Will you work with me?"
"I can't see the crops," I said, hating how broken I sounded. "How can I help tend something I can't see?"
"The same way you navigate this cave perfectly. The same way you knew which males were sick just by listening to their breathing this morning. The same way you 'looked' at me just now even though you can't see my face." She paused. "Your blindness isn't a weakness, Oryn. It's just a different way of knowing the world. And I think that might be exactly what we need."
No one had spoken to me like this in three years. Like I was valuable. Like I mattered.
"May I examine your eyes?" she asked suddenly. "I'm a doctor. I want to understand what happened."
I froze. "People don't like looking at them. They say they're cursed. Unnatural."
"May I?" she repeated gently.
I nodded, unable to speak.
Her fingers touched my face, soft and sure. Doctor's hands. She tilted my head toward the light, and I felt her breath on my cheeks as she studied my jade-white eyes—the eyes that marked me as cursed, broken, wrong.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, Oryn. They're beautiful."
I jerked back. "Don't mock me."
"I'm not." Her hand caught mine, pressed it to her chest where I could feel her heartbeat—steady, honest. "I'm serious. The jade color, the way the light catches them—they're like gemstones. Haunting. Striking. Beautiful."
My throat closed completely. Three years since anyone touched me kindly. Three years since anyone saw me as anything but a cursed mistake.
"You're either lying or crazy," I managed.
"I'm a doctor who just made a magically binding oath to farm in a wasteland while being stalked by a psychopath. Crazy is definitely on the table." She squeezed my hand once, then let go. "But I don't lie to my partners. So here's the truth: I need you, Oryn. Your knowledge, your skills, your different way of seeing. Will you help me?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Whatever you need."
"Good. Because first, I need you to teach me every edible and medicinal plant within a mile of here. We're starting an inventory today." She stood, pulling me up with her. "Second, I need you to tell me if I'm about to make a stupid mistake. Doctor-to-healer. Agreed?"
"Agreed," I said, something dangerous blooming in my chest. Hope. Belonging. The beginning of something that felt suspiciously like—
A scream shattered the morning.
Female. Terrified. Coming from the direction of the cave.
But Maya was here beside me. There were no other females in the Wastelands. There couldn't be.
We ran back together, my hand on her shoulder. Inside the cave, chaos. The males were all awake, snarling, backing away from the entrance.
"What is it?" Maya demanded. "What's wrong?"
"Another female," Kael said, his voice tight with shock. "Just appeared out of nowhere. Right in the middle of the cave. The same way you did."
My enhanced hearing picked up a new heartbeat. Fast, panicked, young.
"Please don't hurt me!" a girl's voice cried. "I don't know where I am! I was just trying to save my brother from the fire and then—oh god, are those wolves?"
Brutus's laugh was cold and victorious. "Well, well. Looks like the Earth Mother is generous today. Two females for the price of one."
"She's mine," one of Brutus's warriors growled. "I saw her first."
"No, mine!"
"I'll fight you for her!"
The warriors started circling the new girl, and her screams intensified.
Maya's grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. "We have to help her."
"Against six Stone Tribe warriors?" I whispered. "Maya, we can't—"
"We have to." Her voice was steel. "Because if we don't, they'll do to her exactly what Brutus plans to do to me. And I won't let that happen. Not while I'm breathing."
She let go of me and strode forward, her doctor voice cutting through the chaos.
"EVERYONE STOP!"
The cave went silent.
"That girl is under my protection," Maya announced. "Same rules apply. Anyone touches her without permission, and I'll poison your food so creatively you'll beg for death."
Brutus stood, his smile predatory. "Bold words for someone with no leverage. Tell you what, little healer—you've got two choices. Give us the new girl, or I take you both to my mother right now and forget this whole farming charade."
He stepped closer to Maya, and I heard her heartbeat spike with fear she refused to show.
"Choose fast," Brutus purred. "Because my patience just ran out."