I like that she’s into what she sees—that my not-quite-standard looks don’t put her off. I mean, I’ve got fur. Claws. A nose that twitches when I’m amused. And she still looks at me like I’m a gift-wrapped dessert.
Not that I’m complaining. I happen to adore everything about her—those curves, that coppery skin, that dark mane of hair I want to run my claws through for hours. In short, she’s mine, and I plan to keep it that way.
I flash her a toothy grin and throw in a teasing wink. Yeah, I’m counting down the minutes until I can get her alone again. Sure, we’re still new, but there’s already a depth between us that feels... permanent. Maybe that’s why I can’t help myself—I keep leaving my scent on her neck, rubbing my pheromones into her skin like I’m branding her.
Anatoli interrupts my delightful thoughts.
“You see that crescent-shaped peak off to the right?” he says, pointing. “The administrative building sits at the base. Dozens of rooms. That’s where Constantin and I stay when we’re down at the center. It’ll take you a good twelve hours to get there.”
Then, casually, he calls out over his shoulder, “I’ll take care of the cat-man. You handle the other two!”
“Deal!” Constantin replies with a nod.
Weird. My neural implant translates their exchange instantly, but I can feel they’ve switched languages—and I don’t recognize it. It’s not the French Neela speaks, nor the English those Coalition thugs used. And yeah, I’ve spent enough time around Kiran to know I’m the cat in this scenario.
Then Anatoli shouts, “Now!”
What the—?
I’m so focused on Neela, I don’t see the move until it’s too late. He slams into me—hard—shoving me backward. Off balance, I stagger, arms flailing for traction. He hit me with everything he had, and it’s enough. I go over the edge.
I snarl in fury as I fall, helpless.
Branches smack into me on the way down, the first impact knocking the air clean out of my lungs. Then another. And another. No matter how hard I try, I can’t grab hold of anything. My fur gets scraped raw, even ripped in places. This fall goes on forever.
Damn it. This hurts.
When I finally crash into a deep layer of snow, the breath I manage to drag in is wheezy and pained—but I’m alive.
Barely.
Everything hurts. I’m one giant bruise, and I’m pretty sure I cracked at least one rib—maybe two. Dark spots dance in my vision, and I have to fight not to black out completely.
I stay still for a few seconds, sucking in cold air and trying to rewind what the hell just happened. The two humans betrayed us. I don’t know if the old man was in on it or not, but it doesn’t matter. They took Neela.
And now I have to go get her back.
Carefully, I roll off the snowy cushion that spared me a splatter-shaped death and take stock of the damage. Luckily, that coat I wore to “protect their delicate human sensibilities” saved my fur from worse tears. My arms and legs are a mess of shallow cuts, and I’m missing a few tufts of hair, but all in all, I’m functional. Not graceful, but functional.
I read up on Terran felines once—apparently, they always land on their feet. I don’t. I landed on my side like a sack of bricks. But hey—still breathing.
Anatoli kindly pointed out where their base is. That’s probably where they’re taking my female. They better not have hurt her. If they did... I’ll make sure they regret it.
But before I start charging off in heroic fashion, I need to confirm they’ve actually left. What if they stayed behind to enjoy the spoils? I have to be sure. Which means climbing back up that cliff.
I lift my eyes and study the cliff face I was thrown from. It’s steep—almost vertical—and easily stretches close to three hundred feet high.
Under normal circumstances, I could scale it in just under two hours. Sadjims are built for this kind of thing—flexible, agile, capable of leaping effortlessly to catch a ledge.
But this isn’t a normal situation.
I fell. I’m injured. And those injuries are going to slow me down.
No use wasting time. I have to get going.
I need to get back to my beautiful Human.
Before I begin what’s sure to be a brutal climb, I inspect the rock face, scanning for a more workable route. I trace a potential path with my eyes—one that zigzags slightly across ledges, small shelves, and natural handholds.
