"Exactly. Speed isn't everything. Sometimes, it's about being deliberate. Calculated."
She blinks, thinking over my points. Her gaze meets mine, a question lingering in its depths. Then, with a slow move of her head up and down, she grunts in agreement.
"But speed can be useful," she counters, her voice barely above a whisper. "Dodging attacks, maneuvering, and the like."
"True," I concede. "But for a drakonid, our strength and resilience are our greatest assets. A single well-placed blow can end a fight before it even begins."
We sit in silence for a moment longer, each lost in our thoughts. I can hear the hunter making its way toward us, three wet limbs moving along. It'll take it a while to get here, so I just enjoy the moment with her.
As the silence stretches, I find myself studying her more closely. The way the early morning light glints in her strange eyes, the determination etched into her features. There's something about her—something resilient and unyielding—that draws me in, despite my better judgment.
Suddenly, Kira speaks, her voice hesitant. "Drasuk," she begins, then stops, biting her lip. "Back there... with the nightmare..."
My gaze snaps to her face again, a flicker of concern sparking within me. "What about it?"
She hesitates, then blurts out, "Why did you touch me?"
I understand her apprehension.
Physical contact between draks is a rare occurrence, reserved for mating rituals, when someone needs help, or displays of dominance. Here, with Kira, the urge to reach out, to comfort her in her moment of fear, had been a powerful one, an alien impulse that I didn't fully understand.
Still don't.
"Like I said, you were writhing," I reply, the memory of her frantic movements sending a tremor through me.
Her eyes search mine, a flicker of vulnerability replacing the initial suspicion. "But... why my shoulder? You already had me contained."
"You are fragile," I explain, choosing my words carefully. "A drakonid's grip could easily crush you. A gentle touch was all that was needed."
The truth is more complicated.
The urge to touch her had been overwhelming, a magnetic pull I couldn't explain. The warmth of her skin beneath my rough hand, against the more sensitive skin of my underbelly, the vulnerability in her eyes—it was a sensation entirely new to me, both exhilarating and unsettling.
"Humans aren't that delicate," she scoffs, a hint of defiance returning to her voice. "We're tougher than we look."
I raise my forehead spikes. "Perhaps. But compared to a drakonid warrior..." I trail off, letting the implication hang in the air.
She stares off into nothing for a bit, then makes a noncommittal sound of agreement before turning her attention back to her task.
I blink at her.
Did I say something she didn’t like?
23
Kira
The serene silence settles back around us, thick and comfortable. Drasuk's words hang heavy in the air—a simple statement laced with truth.
I don't have a good retort, and it bothers me. How am I going to survive here if there are more aliens like him?
He probably does hit like a truck.
My gaze drifts down to my lap, where the ruined armor lays discarded. Most of it is useless, but I decide to keep the bracers on and put the chest piece in my pack just in case there is a use for it. The rest just can't be fitted to me and I toss it under a bush with a growl, using my left arm without even having to think about it.
My fingers twitch toward the newly healed bicep, a reminder of the nightmare as I rub at it.
As observant as always, he notices. "Were you injured there during that dream memory?"
