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Summary
Max goes into heat during his time as prisoner of the Citadel, and in the aftermath finds himself in a position he never wanted to be in again.
People have started telling stories, here and there, among the usual roadside tales of explosions and spirits and mythical fuel caches. Stories that mention a place of refuge for anyone willing to put aside arms, green springing up under the feet of the women who guard it, water flowing from the rocks for anyone to parch their thirst. Stories that, outlandish as they seem, he knows have a kernel of truth at their core.
It's no place for him, but Max places a hand over the growing swell of his belly and thinks- it had started moving not long ago, fluttering movements deep within his womb. Undeniably alive. Maybe there's no place there for him, but perhaps there's one for a babe stubbornly refusing to die.