This is Leona and Colette’s first time at one of these tribe meet ups, and as chill as they both generally are, I can tell they are a little nervous. Which I totally get. Honestly, if anything, I think I’m more like Mira, the girl who has, so far, barely stepped foot outside the girl’s hut. This world is scary. Realizing you’ve been abducted by aliens is scary. Coming to terms with never having indoor plumbing again is scary. Some of us take it all in our stride, while the rest of us need time to freak out and hide a little while. I get it.
I know it took me longer than the others to let my guard down with the Trixikka.
I turn away from where Leona is currently pretending to be impressed by a group of Trixikkas who are showing off their wingspans. Thinking about how I came to let my guard down instantly brought to mind the big, scarred guy who helped me do that.
There had just been something about Zyntarr. He is one of the bigger guys around here. Built like a warrior god, and littered with scars to prove it. I remember thinking that I’d be powerless against his sheer size and strength. And what did he do that first time he was tasked with guarding me? He offered me different foods to try. We couldn’t even communicate at the time, but that pale blue eye of his had watched my every reaction so he could offer me more of what he’d seen I’d liked, putting away the stuffI hadn’t. He may only have one good eye, but he observes a lot. Whenever the night brings a chill, I only have to shiver once, and he appears from the shadows with a blanket to wrap around my shoulders. The other girls tease me about how attentive he is with me, but all the Trixikkas have gone above and beyond to try and help us settle here in their world.
On feast nights, when everyone’s bellies are full, and spirits are high on that super strong fermented juice drink, I’ve wondered if it is more than that though. I’ve wondered what might happen if I went back to his hut with him.
It’s a stupid, lustful, impulsive thought.
And that thought gets crushed pretty quickly after remembering what happened back on Earth all those years ago. Back when I’d done something so impulsive, that it became something I couldn’t undo.
No. There are too many ‘what ifs’ to pursue anything with Zyntarr, and I don’t think it’s the right thing to do. Not without those Trixikka mating marks - their ‘heart-stars’. It would be so easy if those appeared on his huge, scarred chest for me - like a divine signal that the decision is already made for me.
I take a moment to look over to the cookfire, only to find Zyntarr’s no longer there. Ignoring the odd way that makes me deflate a little, I glance around, hoping to find him.
My search is cut short when one of the new girls, Colette, sidles up next to me. She leans her taller frame down to murmur from the side of her mouth, somehow still smiling at the group of Zarriko’s guys who have been following her around for the past hour. “Bea, help me, girl,” she pleads quietly, trying to keep up the happy facade. “What do I do with these?” Colette jostles the items she has in her arms and it’s the first time I really take a look at what she’s handling.
Oh.
Cradled in her arms, Colette has a small collection of those weird Trixikka seed pots - the big, decorated clay jars that the Trixikka um… fill with… their, uh…stuff, and have gotten it into their heads that it makes a fantastic courting gift. I can feel my pale skin flush from my hairline right down to my chest as Colette looks at me hopefully, like I can smooth this all over. She clearly doesn’twantto receive gifts of jar-loads of sparkly alien sperm. I mean, who does? But she also doesn’t want to offend them.
“Ok, guys?” I say, gently prizing two of the pots from her arms, and pushing them back into the hands of the Trixikkas in front of us. “I thought you’d been told that as a general rule, human women don’t like to be gifted pots of your…seed?”
These big, winged guys seem to deflate a little as, between themselves, they swap the jars from one to the other, presumably so they’re only holding their own. “We thought that perhaps the new females might be different and appreciate the offerings as the Temple Goddesses do.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Colette’s wide-eyed expression as she rapidly shakes her head, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her.
I press my lips together and duck my head. When I look back up to the crestfallen males, I’m pretty sure I’m hiding my smile well. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s safe to assume that none of us want those.”
“Would you perhaps prefer a freshly hunted frizikki? Or the pelt of a mountain hound?” one of the Trixikkas asks, hope laced in his tone as he points over to the forest. My gaze follows his gesture without thought and that’s when I see it; the flash of skin-stars in the brush of the jungle.
Distantly, I hear Colette explaining that, no, she doesn’t want anyone to go out and start killing animals on her behalf either, but my focus on this conversation is completely gone.
My eyes dart over to the cookfire. Zyntarr still isn’t back. No one’s tending to the smoking pot over the fire. Before I know what I’m doing, my feet take me in that direction and I leave behind Colette-
Colette who came to find me because she needed help with some over-enthusiastic Trixikka.
Back-tracking, I take her hand. “Come with me a sec,” I say, pulling her away from her small group of admirers.
Colette looks grateful for my rescue, but as I start leading her toward the other side of the clearing to the still unattended cooking pot, I glance back and realize those guys are following us. Or following her, more specifically. She’s shiny and new. Tall, very curvy, and blonde. She’s a whole new chance to get their heart-stars twinkling. They’re obviously far too invested.
When I look ahead, there’s that flash of skin-stars just beyond the tree-line again. I don’t know what’s going on over there, but my gut tells me I don’t want a little crowd following me to go find out.
I spot my opportunity when I see Dove and her guy, Ezryk standing and talking with the other tribe’s leader, Zarriko and his girl, Sophia. Most of the other tribe have stayed away from Dove and Ezryk due to him being an outcast from their tribe and taken in by ours. They still don’t trust him. Zarriko seems to be making an effort, though, so I hope the others follow suit soon.
“Hey,” I say, barging into their little gathering with Colette in tow. The girls smile at me, but their huge men stay straight-faced and serious. “Can you remind your guys that women don’t want their…offerings?”
Zarriko’s dark eyes flit from me to over my head at the small group of Trixikka who had tagged along but didn’t dare barge into their High Spear’s conversation the way I just had. His jaw ticks as he grunts and makes a move to go speak to them. He’s halted momentarily by his mate, Sophia with a hand on hischest. “Go easy on them,” she asks, but all he does in response is take her hand in his, and bring it to his mouth to issue a small peck of a kiss before he’s moving away from us and toward his guys.
I don’t know if he’s going to completely chew them out, or just give them a light warning and reminder. And I try to ignore the tumble of anxiety that rolls around in my stomach when I start to question whether coming to Zarriko was the right thing to do.
Somehow, that tumble of anxiety gets wilder as I glance over to the cookfire to see it’sstillunattended while everyone else is distracted by Zarriko. This time, when I start to walk in that direction, I don’t look back.
The meat inside the pot is sizzling and starting to blacken. Glancing around, I see the little jar of grease that I know Zyntarr uses in his cooking. It’s lined up on a nearby rock, along with some of his blends of herbs and spices. Using the small, carved wooden spoon, I scoop out a dollop of the stuff and add it to the pot to hopefully stop the meat from sticking and getting burnt. The thing starts to sizzle and smoke violently and panic bubbles up my chest that I’ve made the wrong choice, ruining all of Zyntarr’s efforts.
But it’s over the sizzle that I hear a groan of pain. I straighten from standing over the pot, trying to rescue the sizzling meat. The hairs on the back of my neck prick to attention and I slowly turn toward the forest at my back. No one else is around this area. Zyntarr always sets up his cooking space away from everyone else. He prefers to be able to see everyone in front of him while he works. But this time, there’s someone in the jungle behind.
