GTS Syndrome Vol 2 Ch 9: The Things To Care For, Glow Of The Red Eyes!

Dinner was... quiet. Too quiet. The fire Penelope had built blazed high and wide, crackling like it wanted to fill the silence we clearly co

Dinner was... quiet.

Too quiet.

The fire Penelope had built blazed high and wide, crackling like it wanted to fill the silence we clearly couldn't. I sat on my little patch of rock, chewing on a strip of meat that tasted suspiciously like smoked regret. Across the flames, Penelope sat with her knees pulled up, arms resting lazily across them. She wasn't even looking at me. Just down—at the meat in her hand—chewing slow, like she was processing more than just food.

I hated it. The silence, I mean. It was like sitting in a room with someone you accidentally insulted, and neither of you knew how to fix it. Or maybe she did know how and just didn't care.

I cleared my throat. "So... uh," I glanced down at the meat in my hand, which looked like it'd once been part of something with way too many legs, "what... what kind of animal are we eating tonight?"

Penelope didn't look up. "Don't know." Her voice was low, almost muttered. "Something I found crawling on the ground. Big enough."

I blinked at the hunk of meat dangling between my fingers. I was hoping she'd say rabbit. Or deer. Not "something." That made it worse. Like, what kind of something? Had it had a shell? Too many eyes?

"Oh," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. "Yum?"

She didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. Just took another slow bite.

Yeah, this was bad.

"Look, Penelope," I started, trying to keep my voice calm, "about the family—"

BOOM.

The earth shook beneath me as Penelope suddenly slammed her fist—no, her whole hand—into the ground beside her. A plume of dust exploded upward, and even the fire flickered from the shockwave. Her arm remained buried, only her wrist and forearm visible above the cracked ground.

I flinched. Not from fear. Okay—maybe a little from fear—but more from surprise.

When I looked up, her eyes were already on me. They weren't blazing with fury like earlier. No, this was... worse. Anger, yes—but it was laced with tears that hadn't yet fallen, and that tight, aching expression of someone holding in more than they could bear.

"What you did," she said, her voice trembling, "was foolish."

I didn't move. I just listened.

"You're so naïve, Braden. So... good. You run into danger like it's just some test of heart." Her jaw clenched. "But that foolishness is going to get you killed."

I stood up, my body still sore from the earlier fight, but my pride refusing to sit back down.

"How can you say that?" I snapped. "Would you really have let that family be slaughtered? The daughter was crying, Penelope. That father was standing there ready to die for her!"

"To protect you, yes!" she shouted, the words echoing over the canyon edge. "I would've let them die if it meant you lived. That's how I protect what matters!"

The fire popped loudly, sending a spark into the air. I stared across at her, my heart pounding. Not from her rage—but from the truth that sat heavy between us.

"I get it," I said, trying to keep my voice from rising with hers. "You've lived in this world in a different way than me. You've seen how harsh it is, how unfair. But Penelope, that doesn't mean we have to become the very thing we're trying to survive."

She didn't respond. Just looked away.

I stepped around the fire and walked closer, carefully. "You say I'm naïve? Maybe I am. But if I ever stop caring about people—really caring—then what's left of me?"

Her eyes met mine again, softer now. Not watery, but... quieter. Listening.

"I know the strong rule this world. But the weak—" I touched my chest, "—we're people too. We have names, and families, and hope. We don't want to just survive. We want to live. And as long as that's true, I'm going to help them. Even if it's just one family at a time."

I smiled, remembering someone who would've said it better than me. "Just like you, old friend," I whispered under my breath thinking about Lyans smiling face.

She lowered her head.

Slowly, deliberately, until her chin was just above her chest, and I couldn't see much of her face anymore—just a curtain of brown hair hanging like a wall between us. Her arms rested still, her massive body unmoving, but something about the silence that followed made the air feel heavier.

I tilted my head back from my perch on her knee, squinting to try and catch a glimpse beneath that shadowy veil of hair. "Penelope?" I called, gently at first. "You alright?"

No answer. But her eyes were closed—I could just barely make out the soft curve of her lashes behind the strands.

Then, finally, her voice. Low. Tired. Worn.

"Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?"

I blinked. "Change my mind about what?"

She didn't look at me. "Staying safe. Staying out of danger. Protecting yourself."

Oh. That again.

I exhaled through my nose and gave a little shrug—even if she couldn't see it. "Nope. Probably not."

That was the honest truth. This was the life I chose. The risk, the danger, the promise to help. I'd come too far to walk away from that now, and if I did... I wouldn't be me anymore.

I felt Penelope shift beneath me. Not a lot—just enough to make her muscles twitch like something big was stirring inside her.

"Then," she said, her voice tightening, "you give me no choice."

I frowned.

"Uh... what?"

The fire crackled beside us, but I barely heard it.

She raised her head just enough for the moonlight to catch the edge of her face, and when she did, I saw them. Her eyes. No longer soft brown like usual, but deep, burning red—like two coals buried behind a curtain of storm-tossed hair.

My stomach dropped.

"Penelope?" I stood up on her knee, taking an instinctive step back. "What... what's going on with your—"

"I'm just going to have to put you in a state," she said, voice suddenly cold, "where you can't do anything but stay with me."

Oh hell no.

"Shit!" I shouted, already turning to run across her thigh.

But where the hell was I gonna go? I was standing in front of  a giant woman, and she was clearly about to do something wildly unapproved by the travel buddy handbook.

Her red eyes followed me like a predator watching a mouse on her plate. Calm. Icy. I could feel my heartbeat thundering all throughout my body as she slowly began to lift her hand, and for once, I was very, very aware of just how small I really was.

No warning. No more talk. Just a giantess and a little man, with wildly different ideas on how to "stay safe."

And I was pretty damn sure I wasn't going to like what came next.