Laura twisted her hair into a knot with the elastic on her wrist and exhaled.
"What's that face for?" Maya asked, looking up from her flood-risk map of Calgary's sewer grid.
"Fuck, it's hot."
Maya smiled. "There it is. Thirty minutes of silence, and we start with weather complaints."
The fourth floor of Taylor Library at the University of Calgary always ran too hot and too quiet. Sun filtered through the steel mesh cladding wrapped around the building, laying a faint grid across the floor. Beyond the glass, the paving stones wavered in the heat, the trees losing their edges in the shimmer. Inside, the air was still and dry. Even the fifth floor had gone silent for finals week.
Laura had been staring at the same sentence for nearly an hour: The sequential arrangement of the lions in Chauvet cave may suggest intentional narrative structuring, though the precise timing remains indeterminate.
Anne Bernier, her PhD supervisor, would slash it without blinking. Laura read it again, then hit delete.
Laura checked her phone. Still no reply. No permit. No word from Anne.
"What if Anne never even—"
Maya caught the look. "Permit thing again?"
"Yeah. Anne put in for End Chamber access last month. If it doesn't come through before I leave..."
"You'll combust."
"Probably."
Laura dragged her laptop closer. "This chapter is shit."
"You're lucky it's only that chapter. My whole PhD is literally about shit."
"How's yours going anyway?" Laura asked.
"Ugh. Hydraulic modelling. Urban load stress. At least equations don't argue back—unlike your rocks."
"Shh," someone hissed.
"C'mon. Let's get lunch. Clear your head."
"May, I can't. I need to get this out of my head before I leave tomorrow."
"It's never out of your head. You'd lecture airport security tomorrow if they looked half interested."
Laura flicked her the finger without looking up.
"Switch off for five minutes." Maya stretched with a groan, twisting like she was shaking off the afternoon. A pair of undergrads glanced over. "So, what's today's cave problem anyway?"
"Lions."
Maya lit up. "Apex pu—"
Laura reached across, fingers brushing her wrist. "Don't."
Maya blinked, mock-innocent. "What? I wasn't gonna say it."
"You absolutely were."
"You don't know that."
"Southern France. Aurignacian period."
"Lau, you've said that word enough times now I'm starting to think it's your safe word."
Laura laughed. "Bite me. Ice Age lions."
"You know, other people go to France for wine and cheese. You're the only one I know who's going just to sit underground in the dark."
Laura crumpled a scrap of paper and lobbed it. "Rude."
"Accurate." Maya snatched it mid-air and sent it flying back. "See? Lightning reflexes. Faster than you dodging scooters in Hanoi."
"Hey, that happened once."
Laura felt the flush rise. Horns, headlights, Maya's breath at her ear. The memory struck. She caught herself smiling, heat climbing higher.
She bent her head, smoothing the page. I should never have let this end.
Maya smirked. "Which is why I'm warning you now—when we get to Santorini, if all you do is crawl into another cave, I'm never going on holiday with you again."
"Fine. I'll make an exception for you and the beaches."
"Good. Remember Củ Chi tunnels? That was enough."
Heat, humidity, the press of bodies underground. Laura had gripped Maya's hand the whole way.
Laura put on her worst Russian accent: "We go see tunnels now."
"Honestly? Respect. She was amazing. Best tour briefing I've ever had. And I only understood five words."
Laura tapped her pen. "You ever sort that rent thing out?"
"Mostly. Waiting on the phone bill. They keep threatening to cut me off."
"Wouldn't survive a week."
"Exactly. That's why we're escaping to Greece."
Another "Shhh."
Maya raised her hands, mouthed: your fault.
Laura's phone vibrated, sharp against the tabletop. One new message.
Anne: End chamber access confirmed. We're in. Final logistics pending.
She read it once, twice, like the words might vanish. Nine words, like a door swinging open. She read them again.
Laura exhaled. "Holy shit."
"What?"
"We got access."
"Access to what again?"
"The End Chamber. Chauvet."
"Chauvet? That's a winery, right?"
"Fuck off," Laura said, laughing.
"Relax. I know — the cave. If that was a drinking game, I'd be dead already." She leaned closer, elbows on the table. "So, what — did they finally decide you're not going to lick the walls?"
"Anne must've convinced them."
"Well. They're right to. You're... yeah. You're all in on this." Quieter: "Always have been."
Laura let the words hang. Answering meant naming what she'd traded.
A printer beeped somewhere near the elevators. The faint clack of keys echoed from a study pod.
"This is big, May. Chauvet's locked up like a military site. More people have been to space than inside this cave."
"That's new," Maya said, leaning in. "Haven't heard that one."
"Yeah. Twenty-five thousand years before the pyramids, before writing — someone crawled five hundred metres into the dark and drew lions." She paused. "And they're still there."
Maya tilted her head, eyes sharp. "Okay, go on. Tell me about the lions again. You know you want to."
"Maya."
"C'mon. Before you explode."
Laura leaned in. Green eyes fierce, a strand of light brown hair slipping down her cheek. The words poured out.
Maya watched her, fire-eyed, grinning, brilliant. It hit her again: Jesus.
Laura caught the look, pulse quickening, but pressed on anyway, words spilling faster than she meant.
"Okay, so — the panel's in End Chamber. Farthest point. No public access, barely any research access. Lions and rhinos, all charcoal, still sharp after thirty thousand years. You can see the drag of the tip like it just happened. And before you even get there, there's a stone slab with a bear skull on it, facing out — like it's been waiting the whole time. They stood there. Right there. And now I get to stand there too."
Her voice rose, carrying across the quiet. A student drifted past with an armful of books, slowed, glanced at her mid-stride. Maya caught his eye and gave the smallest nod, grin wicked, like she was in on something he'd never touch. He smirked and kept walking.
Laura didn't notice. She continued on, one hand flat to the table as if steadying herself.
"Everyone calls it symbolic, spiritual, totemic. Whatever. But that's lazy. What's on that wall isn't vague. It's deliberate. Structured. Every line placed to hold. Something they could come back to, when the fire caught. Not mysticism. Memory. That's what they were holding on to."
"Lau. Take a breath, babe." Maya's voice was low, affectionate. "I feel like I need a cold shower."
"You asked for it."
"So... definitely not a winery."
"Very funny." She turned the screen toward her. "Look — this is the panel. It runs almost fifteen metres — rhinos on the left, then lions. At least sixteen. Maybe more."
"Every time you say it, I hear something new." Maya tapped the corner of the image. "But you forgot the legs again."
Laura looked, then laughed under her breath. "Shit. Again?"
"You get caught up. You always do."
Laura met her eyes a second too long, then turned back to the image, forcing her voice steady. "That's the hunt. You can see it — the drive pushing them forward. Thirty thousand years, and they're still moving."
"Why so many?"
"Most people think it's a pride. I think it's one or two lions, drawn again and again — a sequence of motion, almost like frames. Not just what they saw. What it felt like."
"So, you think they were recording a story?"
"Yeah, or building one. Everyone wants to see mysticism. I'm arguing something smaller, sharper: structured memories, not visions."
"Wow. Okay." She scratched her temple. "That's... kind of amazing, actually."
"I think it's an archive. They didn't have writing. They had firelight. And walls. They were trying not to forget."
"Okay, but what if you're wrong? What if it's just... a bunch of lions?"
"Then I'm screwed. But if I'm right—" she tipped the pen, "—it might change how we read every site."
Maya gave a low whistle. "So, your PhD lives or dies by the world's most intense lion doodle."
Laura didn't look up. "Says the woman writing a PhD about sewerage networks."
"Urban resilience. Thank you."
"Oh—oops. I forgot to tell Tom." She typed:
We got it. End Chamber. We're in.
She stared at the screen longer than necessary, then hit send. A quiet laugh slipped out.
A librarian pushing a cart slowed beside their table, glasses low on her nose. "Sorry — if you two are going to keep talking, take it outside."
Laura looked up. "Sorry. Bit excited."
The librarian's sighed. "You two never change. You can be excited outside."
"Sorry, Gwen," Maya said, half-smiling. "Old habits."
Gwen shook her head and wheeled the cart on. "It's been six years of old habits."
Maya bit her lip, shoulders shaking.
"Fair. I'm heading out anyway." Laura said, standing.
Hours had slipped past. The library had emptied.
She lingered over her things, slower than necessary. "I've got dinner with Tom."
Maya's expression tightened. "Lau, he'll be checking the wine list before you even hit your stride." Then, quieter: "He sees what he wants — easy, safe, convenient. But at least with me, you can be yourself."
Laura looked away. "I know," she whispered.
"He's like a weighted blanket with eyes."
The laugh burst out of Laura before she could stop it. Too sharp, too quick. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Jesus. That's unfair."
"Warm. Comforting. Impossible to carry through an airport." Maya's grin widened, then softened, cushioning the sting.
Laura shook her head, still smiling, but brittle underneath.
"Go," Maya said. "Try to act normal. You know — Tom-normal at dinner."
"Sorry I missed lunch." Laura hesitated, then added, softer: "Come with me tonight. He won't mind."
Maya shook her head, a small smile tugging. "Nah. But text me. I want to hear how it goes."
She slung her bag over one shoulder and paused beside Maya.
Maya's fingers found hers, the way they used to. Laura's hand closed around them without thinking.
"See you in the morning. I'll text you later." She lifted her bag and walked toward the elevators, head ducked.
Maya watched her go, a knot tightening low in her chest. For a second, she almost called her back. She forced a slow breath and marked another line on the map.
"Jesus Christ, Lau."
Laura stopped at the end of the aisle, bag strap loose in her hand. She thought of the restaurant waiting, the glassware, the small talk, pretending not to check her phone.
None of it touched this. None of it touched her.
What am I doing?
Fuck it.
Laura turned back, fast, before she could talk herself out of it.
She crossed the space, tapped Maya's shoulder with two fingers. "Come on. Let's get dinner."
Maya looked up, steady. "What about Tom?"
Laura held her gaze a beat too long, then gave the smallest shrug. "It's my last night before France. I want it with you."
The pencil slipped from Maya's fingers, forgotten on the desk. She stood, shouldering her bag. "Yeah. Okay."
Laura squeezed her hand once, firm and certain, then let go. "Come on."
They pushed through the doors together.
Laura hooked her arm through Maya's as they walked, Maya giving a small squeeze in return.
"Thai?" Laura asked.
Maya smiled. "You read my mind."
As they crossed the plaza, Maya glanced sideways. "When do you get back?"
"Seven days," Laura said, "No — eight."
Maya shook her head. "Longest week of my life."
"Yeah. Me too." She tightened her arm against Maya's, like the words needed an anchor.
At the curb, Laura nudged her. "When I'm back... want to go on a hike?"
Maya groaned. "You know I hate hiking."
"One hike. That's all I'm asking."
"Fine. If there are ants, I'm not doing this again. And don't forget the snacks this time."
Laura laughed as they walked on into the evening.