Through The Ashes

21

Inside her tent, Jorn lay on her back, staring at the dim outline of the fabric above her. She had slept enough, it seemed, her body no longer allowing her to fall back into an unconscious rest.

Her thoughts were consumed by Mara—relentlessly, maddeningly. She'd spent the entire day trying to keep her mind on survival, on the plan, on the weapons they'd brought back. But now, alone in the quiet, with no one else watching her, all she could think about was Mara.

Jorn experienced something new, something she thought about often in the past. She had finally had sex with another woman. Sex was something she detached herself from months ago, following the decline of the human population.

It was impossible to think about sex when nothing in the world was attractive anymore. Being haunted by trauma and grief didn't help either. It was a piece of herself she'd never thought she'd connect with again.

Jorn turned on her side, fists clenching and unclenching. Her body ached—not from the exhaustion of the day's work, but from something deeper. A need, a hunger she didn't know how to name, but every time she thought of Mara, it flared up inside her, fierce and raw.

Mara's light moans and sighs were echoing off the walls in her head. Jorn squeezed her eyes shut, but it only made it worse. She could picture Mara so clearly—her dark hair falling down her back, the curve of her lips when she smirked, the way she moved with that quiet confidence.

Jorn's breathing quickened, frustration and desire intertwining as her mind refused to let go. She wanted Mara, in every way, and it terrified her. But more than that, she wanted Mara to want her back, to need her just as much. The idea of it sent a shiver down her spine, and she cursed softly under her breath, trying to shake the thought loose.

But it was impossible.

Were these the effects of having sex for the first time? The effects of being in tune with another being on an intimate level?

The thought of seeing Mara—of feeling her presence again—made her pulse race. She craved it more than she'd ever let herself admit. She craved her. The connection, the way Mara made her feel like she wasn't alone, like she could be more than just the stoic, hardened survivor everyone came to know.

Mara saw her, the real her, and it frightened Jorn as much as it excited her.

This was new territory she didn't know how to navigate. Her chest was rising and falling in shallow breaths as she wrestled with the intensity of her emotions.

She shifted restlessly on her cot, rolling onto her back again, staring up at the dark canvas ceiling. The memories of the kisses they shared flickered like sparks in her mind. Her lips still tingled from it. A shiver ran through her as she remembered the way Mara leaned into her, trusting and wanting.

She cursed under her breath, her frustration mounting. How was she supposed to deal with this? She wasn't used to needing anyone, wasn't used to feeling so helpless, so desperate. Her heart pounded in her chest, her body aching for something more, something she never really had the chance to indulge in.

But it wasn't just lust. That was the most unnerving part.

She needed Mara in a way that went beyond the physical. She needed her presence and the way she made her feel human again. It was as though Mara had reached in and found the part of Jorn still capable of connection, and brought it back to life.

Jorn's eyes fluttered shut, her breathing uneven as she tried to focus, to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn't let herself get swept up in this—couldn't afford to lose control. But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they consumed her.