I hold my hands up in a placating manner, hoping she understands my intention. She dips her head, signaling a mutual understanding, before retreating to the cooking area with Mango, leaving me again in relative silence.
I can hear the rattle of food being poured into a bowl and the unmistakable sounds of the animal eating. A handful of breaths later, she reappears and crosses the room to where I am. Leelee checks me over once again, talking to herself as she assesses my injuries. She seems satisfied and more than a bit surprised at my healing progress.
When she brings two ice-cold bags and tries to put one on my injured wrist and the other on my ankle, I growl at her to stop. I need rest and won’t be able to rest with ice packs on my skin.
“Ravok,” Leelee scolds when I grab the ice packs and push them back into her hands. She holds out the packs and shakes them at me. “Deez elp.”
I growl out a “No” at her. She scrunches her nose at me in vexation, but I lower my brows to let her know how serious I am.
Finally, Leelee huffs out a breath and shakes her head at me. “So, stub-born.”
She gives me one last exasperated look before returning to her cooking area and tossing the bags back into her cooling unit.
At last, she sinks into a faded chair set in a corner. Her body curls inward as if she’s attempting to make herself smaller.
Despite her obvious exhaustion, she seems to be trying to keep watch over me. I realize that as long as I am conscious, she will also try to stay awake, so I pretend to fall asleep. As I let my eyes slide closed and my steady, rhythmic breaths mimic sleep, I watch her from beneath my lashes.
Within a few minutes of me pretending to sleep, her eyes slowly shut. Her head lolls to one side, mouth slightly ajar in her exhaustion. It’s an unguarded, vulnerable state I could use to my advantage. Instead, I watch, a strange sensation expanding in my chest as a being who should fear, despise, or exploit me. Moments stretch into minutes, and I continue to study her.
The room is quiet, save for the soft, even sound of her breaths, and against all odds, I find a strange sort of peace in the silence.
I observe her for a few minutes more, scanning her slumbering form. A spark of something indefinable stirs within me; not pity, certainly not affection, but an inexplicable sense of protectiveness that emanates from a place deeper than my rage-fueled desire for retribution. I won’t be able to save her from my people’s invasion, leaving a sour feeling in my gut.
Perhaps when I wake, my body will have regenerated enough to make my escape. And yet, even as the thought plants itself inmy mind, it brings with it a nagging sense of unease, a strange reluctance to abandon the strangely comforting presence of a being I understand so little.
Despite my better judgment, I let my muscles fall lax.
Closing my eyes, I let my body succumb to the needed rest. With the alien sensation of the wood floor beneath me and the rhythmic sound of her breathing as my lullaby, somehow, I drift into a fitful slumber.
When I next pry myeyes open, the world is coated in an impenetrable blanket of night. I forget, for one blissful moment, the extent of my injuries. Without thought, I try to sit up. Knife-edged pain ricochets through my body, pulling a deep, agonized groan from my lips.
The noise awakens the human female, shattering the silence cloaking the cabin. “Ravok?” Her voice is a gentle whisper in the dark, an ethereal sound that cuts through my pain.
Turning my gaze toward where her voice originates, I’m met with the sight of her silhouette sitting up. She’s a shadowy figure, painted mysteriously by the soft moonlight seeping into the room. A light flicks on, bathing Leelee in its warm luminescence. She is still partially curled up in the chair, with Mango in her lap. As I watch, she unfurls, setting aside the animal and getting up, staring at me with hazy, worried eyes.
“I’m fine. I just forgot about my injuries,” I say, but huff a frustrated breath when she stares at me with confusion wrinkling her brow. I had forgotten for a moment that my translator is inoperable.
Leelee scurries over to my side. She presses her soft palm to my forehead before looking over my healing injuries. Shemurmurs to herself, her eyes filled with wonder, and she takes in my body’s progress towards healing.
“Deez luk gud.”
Leelee sits back on her heels, eyes sparkling under the soft moonlight coming in from the viewing glass. She mimes eating again. “Ungry?”
I shake my head, a gesture I’m thankful she understands. Not hungry. The pain radiating from my injuries forms a knot in my stomach, pushing any hunger pangs to the sidelines.
Next, she asks about “otter.” I shake my head again, realizing a more urgent need is making itself known. My bladder is uncomfortably full.
Not sure how else to communicate my need, I point toward my cloth-covered groin. A grimace forms on my face as I make the universal expression for ‘pain.’
A strange look crosses Leelee’s face, painting her delicate features with confusion. But then, understanding blooms, bright and sudden, as her cheeks turn pink.
Leelee holds up her finger, a clear sign of ‘wait a moment’ that I had deciphered from our previous interactions. She ducks into her cooking area. I lose sight of her but can hear clattering as she rummages through cabinets and drawers.
After a moment she approaches me, carrying a clear bottle in her delicate hands. I thought I made her understand that I’m not thirsty, but she must’ve misunderstood. Or perhaps this is another example of human customs I should brace myself to understand? Or is it a peculiar object unique to her alone? My curiosity is piqued. I don’t like lying prone on the floor – it feels too vulnerable. I grunt as I try to sit up. Leelee rushes to my side, saying a flurry of words that make little sense, but I get the impression that she’s vexed that I tried to sit up on my own. I’m annoyed that I need the assistance, so I curl my lip in a snarl that Leelee ignores.
Leelee sets the bottle on the table and helps me sit up again, stuffing cushions under my back.
Once I’m comfortable, she extends the bottle towards me, a look of proud triumph brightening her features. It’s empty. I stare at the container in her hand, struggling to comprehend what she wants.
