I woke to the faint glow of dawn seeping through the hotel curtains in Kraków, the room still wrapped in that early-morning quiet where the world felt paused. My mind immediately drifted to the phone call from last night—Elena's voice, shaky and urgent, painting a picture of chaos back home. The US spiraling further into violence, mobs and riots targeting hybrids, her and Sylvia scrambling to escape through Mexico. It hit like a fresh wound, the worry gnawing at me like a persistent ache that no bandage could fix. Kira's death was still raw, a gaping hole in my chest, and now this? Elena's words replayed in my head: the fear in her tone, the way her voice cracked when she mentioned the mobs, the desperation of fleeing in the dead of night. What if they didn't make it? What if the riots caught them first? The thought twisted my gut, a mix of guilt for being safe here in Europe while they fought for their lives, anger at the world that had turned on our kind, and a deep, aching sorrow for the friends we'd left behind. I stared at the ceiling, tears pricking at my eyes—how many more calls like that before we lost everyone? But I couldn't let it show. Miko was already carrying so much grief; adding more worry might break her. For now, I'd keep it secret—just until we were safer, until I knew Elena and Sylvia were out.
Miko stirred beside me, her eyes fluttering open, amber gaze locking on mine with that sleepy softness. "Morning," she murmured, her cat tail uncurling from around her pillow to brush my leg. But she paused, tilting her head. "You okay? You look... bugged by something."
I forced a smile, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Nah, just thinking about the drive ahead. Long day." The lie tasted bitter, but I swallowed it down—she didn't need this burden yet.
She searched my face for a moment, her ears twitching under her beanie, but then nodded, not pressing. "If you say so. Let's get going—Slovakia calls."
We dressed and headed down for the included breakfast—a simple spread of bread, jams, and coffee. Miko ate with more appetite than yesterday, chattering about the mountains we'd see, her excitement a balm against my hidden worries. I kept up the conversation, teasing her about her third cup of coffee—"Turning into a caffeine cat?"—but my mind kept drifting back to Elena's call.
After breakfast, we loaded the car and hit the road south toward Slovakia, the Polish countryside rolling by in a blur of snow-dusted fields and distant forests. The second we crossed the border— a seamless shift marked only by a sign—the Tatras came into full view again, their jagged peaks still dominating the horizon like ancient sentinels, snow-capped and majestic under the winter sun. Miko pressed her face to the window, her tail flicking with awe. "They're even prettier up close," she said, snapping photos on my phone.
I nodded, gripping the wheel tighter. "Yeah. Let's hope we make Hungary by tomorrow. Long haul ahead." The roads were winding but clear, the air crisp with pine as we pushed through Slovakia's highlands. Villages dotted the route, their wooden churches and colorful houses a charming distraction, but I kept the pace steady, my mind on the goal—Balkans, safety.
By afternoon, we stopped at a gas station for fuel, the pumps humming in the quiet lot. Miko hopped out to grab snacks, her beanie tugged low. She returned with bags of chips and bottled water, sliding back in as I started the engine. "Ready for the night drive?"
We drove on, the sun dipping low, painting the mountains in hues of pink and gold. Miko dozed off and on, her purr soft over the engine's hum. But as we passed a small town, she stirred, glancing at the TV in the gas station we'd just left—no, wait, she'd seen it inside. "Wait... I saw something on the TV back there," she said, her voice tense. "America—it's on the news. Civil war. Mobs, shootings, hybrids being hunted openly. It's bad."
My heart sank further, but I kept my expression neutral. "Yeah... I heard. That's why we're here." Inside, the worry intensified—Elena's call flashing back, her description of the escalating violence. I hoped to god she and Sylvia were safe, that they'd made it to Mexico by now, away from the madness.
We drove on, the sun setting in a blaze of orange, the mountains casting long shadows. Miko fell asleep fully, her head against the window, and I pushed through the night, headlights cutting through the darkness, the roads emptier now, just the occasional truck passing like a ghost. Fatigue tugged at me, but the thought of reaching Hungary by dawn kept me alert—coffee from the gas stop burning in my veins.
We crossed into Hungary around midnight, the border a non-event, just a sign flashing by. Miko stirred briefly but stayed asleep as I navigated toward Miskolc, the city's lights a welcome beacon in the dark. I pulled into a motel parking lot, the neon sign flickering "Vacancy" in broken English. Shaking Miko gently, I woke her. "We're here. Hotel time."
She blinked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "Already? Okay..."
The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a thick accent, greeted us in broken English: "Room? Two?" I nodded, showing two fingers, and she quoted a price. I paid in cash, the transaction quick despite the language barrier—the room key handed over with a nod.
The second we reached the room—a simple space with a double bed and faded wallpaper—Miko stripped down to her underwear, collapsing onto the mattress with a sigh. "Too tired," she mumbled, already drifting off, her body curling up like a cat in a sunbeam.
I smiled, tucking the blanket over her, but before I could join, my phone buzzed—Elena again? No, just a notification. I called her anyway, but it went straight to voicemail. "Hey, it's me. Hope you're safe. Call when you can." Worry knotted my gut—they were heading to Mexico, a dangerous path, but I had to trust them.
As I lay down, Miko instinctively clung to me in her sleep, her arms wrapping around my waist, her face nuzzling my chest, her purr starting soft and steady. I held her close, stroking her hair until sleep claimed me too, the hotel's quiet a fragile peace.