Time to meet her future.
The fence post had rotted through at the base.
Goraath crouched beside it, running his hand over the splintered wood. He should have replaced it last season, but the krulaati never came this far north in their grazing pattern, so he’d let it slide.
Sloppy.
He wrapped both hands around the post and wrenched it free. The wood came up with a wet sucking sound, bringing chunks of dark soil with it. Tossing it aside, he reached for the replacement he’d carried out from the equipment shed.
The twin suns hadn’t cleared the mountain peaks yet. The valley still sat in shadow, cold enough that his breath misted in front of his face. His favorite time of day. Quiet. Just him and the land and work that didn’t require words.
The new post slid into the hole. He packed soil around the base, then used the post driver to sink it deep. The rhythmic thud of metal on wood echoed across the empty fields.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Satisfying. Solid. Real.
Not like the trall waiting for him back at the house.
He’d been avoiding thinking about it since he woke up. It was easier to focus on fence lines and rotted posts and the hundred other small tasks that kept a ranch running. Easier than acknowledging that in a few hours, everything would change.
A female was coming to his house.
A human female.
From Earth.
To live with him for at least six weeks while they figured out whether they were ‘compatible.’
He hit the post harder. The impact vibrated up his arms.
Draanthing lottery.
The sound of an engine cut through the morning quiet. Goraath didn’t look up. Only one person would be coming out here this early, and he wasn’t in the mood for company.
The transport’s engine cut off. A door opened and slammed shut.
“You’re out here early.”
Uncle Gaauth’s voice carried across the field, gruff and amused. The old male moved with the stiffness of someone whose joints didn’t work quite right anymore, but his eyes were sharp as he approached.
Goraath grunted and kept packing soil around the post.
“Brought you supplies from town.” Gaauth stopped a few feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Figured you might need a few things before she gets here.”
“Don’t need anything.”
“Right. Because you’ve been preparing so thoroughly.”
The sarcasm landed like a punch. Goraath’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to it. Just kept working. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Gaauth waited. Patient. The old goat was as stubborn as hell.
The post sank deep enough so Goraath straightened, picked up the post driver, and finally looked at his uncle.
The old male’s face was weathered, scarred from decades of ranch work before he’d retired. His hair had gone mostly silver, still worn long in the traditional style but shot through with white at the temples. Those amber eyes missed nothing.
“She arrives this afternoon,” Gaauth said.
