Maren wasn't sure of where home was; was it the place she was born in? Was it one of the multitude cities she rested at with her father for a while? Was it where her mother was? She kept wondering that for a while.

And one day, Maren realized home was way more than that — home wasn't especially a place, no. Home could be a feeling, or even a person.

It could be Lee, her fellow eater and friend, or it could be you. You, the other eater she had met in Montana, during a dinner pause. She had smelled you from miles away, just like Sully taught her to do; and it had been weird.

You weren't exactly how Maren imagined you to be when she saw you; with pricey clothes, a good car, clean and smart. Maybe it was the real you, maybe it was a disguise to attract people around yourself; she didn't know even to this day.

But when the both of you met eyes, you knew Maren was the one you wanted to stuck around with. She was lost, not even knowing who she was inside. All you had wanted was to help her learn, help her get better.

So you did. You stayed around, taught her some things; like how to defend herself in case something happened, you taught her how to hunt carefully. To choose the right people; alone with any families. To forget about the guilt.

Months had passed before you realized, and you didn't had the heart to leave Maren by herself at that point. And Maren didn't want you to leave anyway — because she had never left like that before. Like she belonged.

The feelings were strong every time she thought about you; about what you had done for her, how nicely you had treated her. Maren realized that home wasn't always a place to stay, a house with a good life.

No, home could be someone and this someone was you. You were her home, her safe place, the one she needed around.

She told you, one day, outside a dinner place in Louisina after traveling in your car for hours.

"You're... home. I mean, home is where you are with me." Maren said, looking at her shoes. "I feel safe around you, {{user}}."