Quiet. Still. I peer from behind a tree, searching for venomfangs. Nothing. Good. Perhaps none are close. If they were, they would have caught the scent too. It’s so strong.
A flock of clatterbeaks hops around the riverbank, another good indication that the venomfangs aren’t around. The annoying fliers take off at the first sign of danger and once in the air, they’re impossible to catch. I’ve tried many times.
The scent is spread around the riverbank, but the strongest concentration comes from beneath a smaller twistroot. Deeper in the forest, these trees are huge, with root systems one can easily hide in, but this one is still small. Cautiously moving closer, I look underneath the big red leaves before recoiling.
The creature is…different. I’ve never seen anything like it before.
Have I? Something tries to push through the fog again.
No, nothing like this lives in the forest. Venomfangs. Barkhides. Shellstomps. Nothing like this. Some of its skin is dark like bark, while some has an odd shade of gray. That gray skin has holes in it, though, holes through which more dark skin peeks. Is it shedding?
Curly black fur covers the top of the creature’s head and there’s even a patch of shorter fur around its maw, but it doesn’t seemto have fur anywhere else. Unless it’s hidden by the peeling gray skin.
It only has four limbs, and the upper pair looks too weak to be used for walking. No tail. Strange. Wrong. It still smells good, though. I want it.
The red fog doesn’t surge like it usually does before the fight, leaving me free to think.What is it? Why does it smell so good? Are there more?
What if I didn’t kill it?
The thought feels wrong. The fog doesn’t like it, but it’s still in my head.
The creature is ugly, yes, but it’s the odd kind of ugly that’s almost pretty. I like pretty things. Shiny things, pretty rocks, pieces of bones or roots. Something in me urges me to take them. Bring them to my den. Could I bring the creature too? Keep it in my den. Make it stay.
The thought is too tempting to pass over. I want the creature.Needit. I do not know why. The need is stronger than hunger. Stronger than the urge to kill. I need to make the creature mine.
Mine. Yes. That feels right. It’s mine. Mineminemine.
First, I must know if it is dangerous. Its skin looks soft, with no signs of scales or a shell to protect it. No spikes or claws. It has teeth but they look blunt, like barkhide’s teeth. Those only graze on grass, never hunt. Maybe it doesn’t hunt but how does it protect itself from predators? Is it venomous?
Looking over the creature’s odd body, I don’t see any stingers, but those could be hidden within its body. It’s risky. If it stings me, I’ll be easy prey for the venomfangs. But…
I want it.
Mine.
Chapter 4
Jaime
Myeyesdriftshutas exhaustion pulls me under. I should be doing something, some survival stuff, but at the moment, I’m too tired to even lift my hand. Just a moment. I’ll rest for a moment and then figure out the next step.
Hah. The next step. English has a sense of humor.
The dragon birds are making a ruckus, clapping their beaks and chirping so loudly I can’t sink into deeper sleep, but I do rest. It’s difficult to say how long since the red sun barely moves on the lavender sky. The planet does, though, its green bulk setting behind the mountains on the horizon until only the icyring surrounding it remains visible. It’s beautiful, truly. I only wish I was enjoying it from an observation deck of a spaceship, not all alone down here on this alien world.
Silence.
It pulls me out of my drowsiness. Why is it quiet? Forcing my eyelids open, I see that the birds are still, like statues, their sudden silence a sharp contrast to their earlier noise. The skin on the back of my neck prickles, my heartbeat quickening as I look around. Something is here. Something is watching. The primal part of my brain knows it, and it’s screaming at me to run. Except that’s something I cannot do.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” My hand finds a stone. It’s a stupid weapon that’s unlikely to help me at all, but it’s something. Anything is better than facing the threat empty-handed.
The birds take off as one, the air full of the flapping of their wings. Once the silence returns, I hear it. A soft crack of a twig here, a rustle of the leaves there. Something is stalking through the nearby bushes. I can’t see it to tell how big it is. Bigger than the birds since it scared them away. But how much bigger? Cat-sized? Bear-sized? Bus-sized?
My breaths come in desperate gasps and are easily the loudest noise in the silent forest, much louder than the approaching creature. It moves in half circles, using the underbrush to stay hidden, each time drawing closer. Is it hunting or just curious? I’m a new thing here, perhaps it doesn’t know what to make of me. How do I pretend I’m a dangerous predator so it leaves me alone?
“Fuck it. HEY!” I shout as loud as I can. The low noise dies out instantly. “I’m not afraid of you, you hear me?! Back on my planet, I’m an apex predator! I can hunt a pizza in a supermarket in under two minutes, so if you know what’s good for you, you’d better leave me alone.”
The creature either hears the panic in my voice, smells my fear, or it simply doesn’t care about my pathetic whining because it resumes its approach. Finally, it peeks at me from behind a tree trunk.
