For one long moment, her mind went completely blank. She’d heard the stories, of course, everyone in the valley had. The Vultor were more beast than person, and their interactions with humans often ended in bloodshed. They were tales told to frighten children into staying close to home.
The reality was somehow both better and worse than the stories.
He was enormous. That was the first thing she registered. He stood at least a head and a half taller than any man in the village, with shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway and muscles that strained against the simple leather vest he wore. His featureswere harsh and angular, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones that gave him a lupine cast even in his human form. Dark hair fell past his shoulders, twisted back in a simple knot, and his eyes…
His eyes glowed faintly green in the shadows, fixed on her with an intensity that made every instinct scream at her to run.
She didn’t run. Even she knew that running from a predator only triggered the chase instinct, and while most of the stories featured the Vultor as the aggressors, she’d heard whispers that it wasn’t as one-sided as most of the colonists preferred to believe.
Praying that she was right, she forced herself to remain seated on the fallen log, her hands pressed flat against the rough bark to hide their trembling. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she was certain he could hear it, but she kept her voice steady when she spoke.
“I told you I was armed.”
His lips curled back, revealing gleaming white fangs. “You lied.”
The words were a low growl, his voice rougher than a human’s, as if speaking wasn’t something he did often. She supposed it wasn’t. Although they avoided the mountains, no one in the village had ever encountered a Vultor before, and something about this one suggested he’d been alone for a long time.
“I am armed,” she said defiantly, putting her hand on the knife at her belt, and one brow rose in an oddly human expression.
“You call that a weapon?”
Considering his size, he was probably correct not to be concerned, but she skipped past the argument.
“I’m not trespassing,” she repeated instead. “Or at least I am, but I don’t mean any harm. I’m looking for a plant that doesn’t grow in the valley. It must grow somewhere in the mountains instead.”
He took a step closer, and she had to fight every instinct not to flinch backward. The breeze shifted, carrying his scent towards her, the scent of leather and something darker, something wild that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
“What plant?”
The question surprised her. She’d expected threats, demands that she leave, perhaps even violence. Not curiosity.
“I don’t know what it’s called. I’ve only seen it once before, after a storm, tangled in the branches of a fallen tree.”
“What did it look like?”
“It’s vine. A sort of golden color, like spun sunlight. The fibers were incredibly fine and they shimmered when I pulled them apart. They were long too, much longer than any other fiber I’ve seen.”
He studied her for a long moment, those emerald eyes unblinking. Then his gaze dropped to her hands, still pressed against the log, and something flickered across his harsh features.
“You’re a weaver.”
It wasn’t a question. She looked down at her own hands and saw what he must see—the calluses on her fingers, the faint scars from years of working with rough fibers, the permanent slight crook in her left ring finger from an old injury at the loom.
“Yes.”
“And you need this plant for your craft.” His voice was still rough, but some of the growl had faded from it.
“For my sister.” The words came out before she could stop them, raw with a desperation she hadn’t meant to reveal. She clamped her mouth shut, cursing herself for the slip.
“It is not a healing plant.”
If he knew that, did that mean he knew where to locate it? She hesitated, then blurted out the truth.
“I know it’s not. I need to weave it into cloth to trade for medicine.”
For a moment, he simply looked at her, and though she couldn’t read the expression on his alien features, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of understanding in those glowing green eyes.
“The plant you seek is called sunvine.”
