My hip aches. I can feel each throb of pain push through my body in time with my heartbeat. But if my hip aches, then the pain only intensifies as it moves closer to my ankle.
I look down at my bare leg to examine the black lines of poison. It’s difficult to say, but I think they’ve stopped in their tracks. I’m nauseous still, but the dizziness and lightheadedness have passed. I don’t think I’ll lose consciousness again.
My eyes settle on Keary. He’s exactly nothing like the monsters I’ve encountered in the past. It’s rare that monsters save the lives of humans. Humans were once the dominant species on the planet. We ruledeverything. Every landscape. Every empire. Everything rose and fell with humans.
Then the monsters invaded, unleashing staggered attacks on humans without provocation. The human nations didn’t have time to organize and retaliate before they were nearly wiped off the face of the Earth.
Or so the stories go. I’ve seen enough in my lifetime to know that at least some of those verbal histories are true. Devastated landscapes are everywhere, with nature taking over what remains. The cities are eerie, the towering hollows of old skyscrapers now crumbling and becoming lost to time.
There’s no argument that humans are not running around in abundance, either. If they’re not fighting each other, they’re fighting monsters or beasts. And yet… I’ve seen the enormous walls of monster compounds, and I’ve been told that there are humans inside. Not as prisoners, but as partners.Lovers.
It sounds counterintuitive to me since every interaction I’ve had with a monster has been violent. The human-monster confrontations I’ve seen have been brutal, bloody, and oftentimes deadly.
If humans and monsters are able to peacefully live side-by-side as it’s rumored they do within the walled compounds, then why does everything I’ve seen suggest otherwise?
Then again, a monster just saved my life from a beast who nearly succeeded in taking it. They’re feeding me after doing their best to heal my wound. It’s clear that the two species can get along.
“Oh,” Keary says, and I turn my attention back to him. “This is Notto.” He points at the dark man with glowing cracks. Is there a shadow hanging over him right now? “This is Drystan.” He nods in the direction of the man with horns. “We’re with Eriva.”
Eriva. I’ve heard the name before, but it’s not coming to me right now. “I told you why I was wandering the world. Why are you?”
Keary smiles, and… Okay, he’s attractive, especially when he shimmers like that. Perhaps that shimmer is indicative of a particular emotion. Maybe that’s why I can’t make out a pattern in it.
“Boredom,” Keary says, shrugging. “I don’t want to play house.”
I’m not sure what answer I was looking for, but it wasn’t that. Boredom I understand. I think many wanderers are doing so out of boredom, but most people don’t choose to put their lives at risk by wandering alone.
Most humans are born within small clans or the slightly larger colonies. There’s safety in numbers, so you’re an easier target if you’re alone. If you have ten buddies with you, you’re far less of a target. If you’re surrounded by your entire clan, you have a better chance at surviving an attack of any kind.
Of course, more people in one place means more mouths to feed. That’s the reason clans have started to break away from the colonies. My clan was one of those that broke away. They did so when I was eight or nine.
Monsters took note of that.
“No one said you had to play house,” Notto says, bringing my attention back to the monsters surrounding me.
Keary doesn’t respond. His focus is still on me. “You’re finished eating,” he observes. “Do you want more?”
“No, thank you.”
He nods, eyes still locked on me. “Do you want to get cleaned up? A shower?” He looks at my wrapped ankle, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face when his eyes meet mine again. “Or I can give you a sponge bath.”
“Generous, but I’ll wash myself.”
Keary sighs. “You take all the fun out of washing.” He gets to his feet and offers me his hands.
The thought of standing makes my stomach flip even though the fact that I’m sitting up without fighting for balance means the nausea has passed.
“I think I’d rather take a nap,” I tell him.
Keary shrugs, his hands still offered to me. “Sure. I’ll bring you to a bedroom.”
I’ve grown up with the simple life rule that you don’t trust anyone. Ever. The moment they’ve earned your trust, you open yourself up to having your neck slit when you give them your back—especially when that someone is a monster.
They’re responsible for the destruction of our species, after all. Why would we trust them?
Never show weakness. Never show them vulnerability.
Seems a little late for all that, right? I’m about at my lowest and already at the mercy of these monsters. They saved my life for whatever reason, so I think I’m at least going to live through the night.
