The hideous creature hissed at me and struggled in my trap. I had to kill it quickly before the cord broke. It wasn’t made for something this size.
It was rare for the bugs to venture up to my part of the mountain. At first, I’d thought it was simply because I was so isolated. But this summer, I’d realized a pair of Xarc’n warriors had claimed this side of the mountain as theirs and had been preventing the bugs from coming up the pass.
Yet this was the second scuttler I’d found in my traps today. I’d managed to creep up on the first one from behind, smashing its skull in with my axe. This one was much livelier, turning to face me no matter which way I approached, its claws at the ready.
I was supposed to be trapping small animals and preserving them to stock my cellar in preparation for winter, not trapping bugs.
A skittering sound had me whipping around to find another scuttler behind me; this one, free and mobile. It waved its creepy mandibles at me.
Shit! Another one? This wasn’t good.
This meant the Xarc’n protectors in this area were either slacking or overwhelmed. Both were bad news.
I dropped my axe, reached for my shotgun, and tucked the stock against my shoulder. If I had to shoot it, I would. Then I’d need to run back to my cabin before more arrived. It would mean the end of checking traps for the day, but I’d be alive, and alive was good.
A low growl sounded before someone shouted in a guttural alien language. The bug turned toward the imposing purple warrior stepping out from the trees.
Rhaz’k. Why did I always get the bossy Xarc’n hunter? According to this overgrown mass of purple muscles, I belonged to him simply because I lived in his territory. Let’s just say our previous encounters hadn’t been the greatest.
He moved so quickly, he was no more than a blur. Just like the last time I’d seen him, he wore nothing but a leather loincloth and a few pieces of armor strapped to his body by a harness. It showcased his broad shoulders and pecs and drew attention to his washboard abs.
One moment the bug was whole; the next, Rhaz’k had slashed it in half with one of his glowing double swords. Before the internet fell, the prevailing rumor had been that their melee weapons were imbued with plasma energy. The alien warrior grinned at me, the show-off, displaying a row of sharp teeth and a pair of fangs. He tilted his head to the side as if in challenge, accentuating the heavy set of his ram-like horns.
Not to be outdone, I picked up my axe and bashed the scuttler still stuck in my trap on the head before Rhaz’k could. There was no damsel in distress to rescue here. I could take care of myself, thank you very much. Whether I wanted to or not; I had no one else.
The alien warrior scowled at me, clearly miffed that I’d gotten to the bug before he did. “Why are you out of your cabin, female? You should not be trapping scuttlers. It is unsafe.” His words sounded like a series of grunts and growls, but the translator on his belt came to the rescue.
Trapping scuttlers? Did he think I was trying to do his job? Hell no! I was trying to find food.
“You should return to your cabin, female.” He leaned in and sniffed loudly and snarled. “You smell of the strange male whohas been around your home. He should not stay with you. Tell him to leave. Now.”
I stared back, shocked at the audacity of his words. Who did he think he was?
I got all up in his face, or tried to; he was at least a foot and a half taller than me. “First of all, I can invite anyone I want into my home.” I poked him hard in the chest with my finger. Ouch! His chest was hard as rock. “And second. I’m trying to find food. Winter is coming, and I need to make sure I have enough.”
He perked up. “If you are low on sustenance—” he made to grab my finger, and I jerked it back “—I can provide for you, female.” He almost looked gleeful that I was low on food, the jerk.
Of course he was. This was how these Xarc’n warriors got you. There’d been plenty of tales of Xarc’n hunters offering women food before kidnapping them into their shuttles.
“Thank you, but I’m quite capable of providing for myself. I’m not desperate.”
I still had food left, and I had most of my life under control. Most. All except for the fact that my ex, who I couldn’t stand, was living in my house and using up my supplies.
The only reason I’d even let Tristan stay was that I’d thought it would deter Rhaz’k from sniffing around. Tristan had shown up a few days ago, begging for food. He’d looked so pathetic, I’d let pity get the best of me and given him a meal.
There was no way we were getting back together, but sending Tristan out there was a death sentence; I didn’t want to be party to that. There’d been enough death already. I didn’t even know how he’d managed to survive all this time. So, believing his presence would discourage Rhaz’k’s attention, I’d let Tristan in.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the Xarc’n warriors’ help. I did. It wasn't lost on me that without the warriors hunting the bugs on my mountain, I’d have been overrun with the nasty creatures by now. I was very thankful for their help.
What I didn't appreciate was Rhaz’k sneaking around my bedroom window in the middle of the night and watching me sleep. That was creepy as fuck. I’d had nightmares of his yellow eyes and dangerous-looking horns for days. I’d had to close all my blinds when I slept.
So, that was how I’d first found out I had hunters on my mountains. Not the best first impression. Subsequent encounters with his surly, bossy ass hadn’t been any better.
There was another Xarc’n warrior who hunted here. Instead of watching by my window, this other one had watched from the woods. I’d pointed my shotgun at him, thinking he was a bear. When my neighbor Sandy’s home was burned down by raiders earlier this summer, he'd offered her a home in his shuttle, and she’d accepted.
I was glad someone was caring for Sandy. She seemed happy with him, and unlike Rhaz’k, Turr’k was actually nice.
If Rhaz’k thought the same thing would happen with me, he was in for a big surprise.
