The blood has lured wild pig and boar to the field—a single boon to all that has happened. The encampment has been eating nothing but cooked pig meat for days.
Not a single human life was lost to the nagas—which I’m eternally grateful for—but some of the soldier’s corpses had been ravaged in the infirmary. They and Graft have since been buried in the small graveyard right outside of camp. But now that the services have passed—which kept people distracted—everything else has been a chaotic mess.
With the soldiers’ main ship gone, taking the servers and the more sophisticated equipment to intercept commands from other military ships with it, the remaining troops have no way of getting their orders or communicating with the top. Graft held the line, until he couldn’t. No one knows if Minton Volp is alive. Still. No one knows much of anything. The lack of information—any information—is making people desperate. Antsy. Many have medical issues, or are searching for missing loved ones. I tell them everyone is working as hard as possible to make contact but first, locking down the encampment takes priority.
But with far more refugees in camp than soldiers now, a new power dynamic has begun to form. People aren’t looking so much to the military for help. The soldiers have their guns, they are guarding the entrance and killing the pigs that come to the gates, but besides a handful of determined ones, they’re as defeated and hopeless as the civilians.
After I got everyone to go underground, many of the refugees, and even some of the soldiers, have been looking to me for… guidance. For advice.
I tell them that I’m just like them, except worse since I quietly deserted. But right now, with survival on everyone’s mind, no one seems to care. They only care that I was able to talk to and handle a naga, get that naga to kill the other ones, and then get that same naga to then leave.
How did I do that last part? I have no idea. I wanted him to stay.
But I’m a savior to enough of them now that I’ve been handed some sort of uncomfortable amount of power. The problems we face going forward are going to be messy ones, ones I’m not sure I’m eager to take responsibility for. Like supplying enough fresh water to the recyclable containers to keep everyone hydrated and clean. Like feeding them when the food supply runs short—which it will eventually, pigs or no. And like finding the rest ofThe Dreadnautsurvivors and…
Partially colonizing this small spot on this wild planet.
Running my hands up my face, I smooth my hair back with a tired sigh… because like it or not… this place is quickly becoming my home. I never expected an easy ride back to civilization after what happened toThe Dreadnaut, but I’m grounded here now, and I’m willing to at least put in the work to make things better. I don’t have to be a soldier to do that.
And I’ve somehow given the people hope that things may turn out okay after all. Because since Krellix’s arrival, and word has spread of our unique relationship, nothing else has attacked the encampment. He’s been keeping guard over us from out in the forest and I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Many of the others who man the lookouts have seen him too.
Like I’ve conjured him, I see movement in the trees, and at the same time, Austin points to where I’m already looking. I nod but otherwise don’t pay attention to him as Krellix appears from the brush—brush that is no longer being cut back to widen the field between the encampment and the forest. Like most of the machines, the loggers have been stalled since the attack.
“It’s your naga,” Austin mumbles.
Krellix’s gaze meets mine from across the field as he lugs a corpse out from the forest with his companion, a naga that is apparently turning into a Copperhead. Kodyx. Since the first time I saw him several days ago, his coloring has only deepened and his tail and muscles lengthened and strengthened. He’snot the only one I see with Krellix, though. Sometimes there’s a grayish-green naga that’s fully formed, and others that seem indistinguishable from those that attacked us. Those few, like Kodyx, don’t seem to have any inclination to charge the gate.
The two nagas with Krellix right now are carrying wood to the bonfire pile while Krellix hauls the corpse. Watching him throw the body into the fire, I get to my feet. “I’m going out there,” I tell Austin as I head for the ladder and climb down it.
His head appears over the top. “I’ll cover you.”
“You won’t have too, don’t worry about it,” I reply. When I get to the ground and shuffle through the makeshift barricade we’ve formed, I wave him off from the other side, yelling, “He’s more likely to run from me than the other way around,” as I storm straight towards Krellix, no longer willing to wait for him to come talk to me.
“Do not run,” I growl under my breath.
As I stomp the rest of the way forward, he moves away from the bonfire. Beside him, his companions throw their wood into the few small flames that are left. The smell of burning naga flesh soon floods my nose and I’m immediately thankful Krellix moved downwind.
I close the gap, and as I do, his companions both head back to the forest, leaving Krellix and I behind. Krellix, stationary, and as handsome as ever waits for me. This time, for some reason, choosing not to run away.
As I close in on him, I note he’s tense and his jawline is stiff. Coming to an angry stop before him, I clench my fists, just as tense. “Stop running,” I blurt out before releasing a frustrated breath. “Stop… leaving me… like…” Fear of what I might be saying abruptly stifles the words in my throat. “Like you have been!” I wave my hand at him furiously. “We need to talk. I thought we were going to?—”
“I am sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I snap. “For leaving me? Or for something else?”
He tilts his head and his golden hair goes tumbling over his shoulder, catching in the shifting sunlight, haloing him with a glow. Some of my frustration seeps from me as I give him a once over, taking in his rugged and bloody form. Though his wounds are healing, some of them almost gone entirely, he is dirty and—tracing my eyes back to his face—worn.
“For leaving you,” he whispers.
My brows furrow. “Krellix, what’s wrong?” I unclench my hands when I see his are the same way. “Are you okay? Have you been eating?”
Why can’t I ever stay mad at him?
A pained expression flashes across his face and, as I search his eyes for answers, a heady scent tickles my nose.
My skin prickles as my spine straightens.
I glance down to find his throbbing, extended cock suddenly releasing from his tail.
