She appears to have packed only the bare minimum of items before she left the village, and although part of me respects her for refusing to steal more than she needed to, another part of me wishes she had brought more supplies with her.
No matter, though. I’m here now, and I can make sure she has what she needs.
I stand up, stretching again to get rid of the last kinks in my muscles. As I do, the branches of the rasklar tree are pushed aside, and Willow emerges into the yellowish early morning light. She yawns, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, and my chest tightens. She looks a little rumpled from sleeping on the ground, her leather clothing slightly askew and her dark red hair messy. Her skin almost seems to glow, and a faint tinge of dusky pinks paints her cheeks.
More so than at any other time I’ve seen her, her guard seems to be down in this moment, and it feels almost too intimate to be gazing at her like this.
She glances over at me, and several emotions I can’t identify pass through her eyes. I have no idea what she’s thinking or feeling, but her shoulders are still relaxed, her posture open and serene. For several heartbeats, it actually looks like she’s happy to have me here.
Then she stiffens a little, swallowing and looking away.
Akhi.
I try not to let myself feel too disappointed. The resolve I felt last night is still burning in my chest, urging me onward. I’ve always known it won’t be easy to get past her defenses, that it will take time. But out here in the wilds of Nuthora, time is all we have.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask lightly, busying myself with my own pack so that she won’t feel too closely watched.
“Um, yeah.” Her sweet voice is a bit tentative. “I wasn’t sure I would after I left the village, but I have. I guess all the walking helps tire me out, and I think I sleep better in open spaces than enclosed ones these days.”
That makes sense. After being held captive for so long, any walls probably feel too confining. Where others might focus on the potential threats in open spaces, she focuses on the freedom.
I mentally curse myself for not having thought through all of this while she was still back at the village. I thought—as I’m sure the others did—that she would be most comfortable with others of her species, with the Terran women who sleep in the large building that was once our meeting house. But I should’ve made more effort to find out what Willow wanted rather than making assumptions.
Brushing my frustration over my past mistakes away, I glance over at the lithe woman again. “Will you be traveling today?”
She looks up sharply, chewing her lip as if debating whether or not to answer. Then she shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to risk getting too close to Pascia, and until I decide where I’d like to end up, wandering into unknown areas seems too risky. I figured I’d make this a sort of base camp and explore a bit for a few days, getting a sense of the surrounding terrain before I make another big move.”
I’m impressed that she’s thought it through so logically. And I’m grateful that she’s not impulsive enough to go crashing blindly through the Nuthoran wilderness. No part of it is truly safe, but some areas are certainly more dangerous than others, and it’s a relief to know that she understands that.
She took a great risk when she left the Voxeran village, but she clearly doesn’t have a death wish.
She wants to live.
She wants to thrive.
And I want to help her do that.
“I have an idea,” I say, running one hand over the white markings that trail down over my bicep and forearm. “It’s something I thought of last night.”
Willow doesn’t respond with words, but she tilts her head, her expression a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
“You seem to have good instincts for survival,” I tell her. “I don’t know if you’ve spent time in similar landscapes to this one back on Terra, but from what I’ve seen, you’ve adapted with admirable speed.”
She flushes, her expression tightening almost as if she’s hurt or angered by my words. I continue speaking quickly, although given her reaction so far, I don’t have a lot of hope that she’ll take me up on my offer.
“I’ve lived in the wilderness of Nuthora for years. In that time, I’ve learned a great deal about how to survive out here. As we discussed last night, I learned to hunt. I’ve learned to forage for food, and I can identify many of the animals and plants that live on this part of the planet by sight.” I cock my head. “If you’d like, I can teach you what I know.”
Willow blinks, seeming startled. Whatever flash of pain I thought I saw in her eyes earlier, it’s gone now. Instead, she looks surprised and even… excited.
“You’d do that?” she asks, scrunching up her nose as she traps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Teach me how to live off the land.”
“I told you I want to keep you safe, didn’t I?” I ask, letting a smile tug at my lips. “The better equipped you are to navigate the landscape, the safer you’ll be. So yes, of course I want to teach you.”
She studies me for a long moment, still chewing on her lip. Then she nods slowly. “Okay. I’d like that.” She draws her head back a little, narrowing her eyes. “But this still doesn’t mean I want to go back to the village. I’m sorry, I just—I just can’t.”
“This isn’t about that,” I insist.
The fact that she has such a difficult time accepting my word makes it clear that she’s been lied to before. Mistreated before. Tricked before. As frustrating as her distrust of me is, I know there isn’t an easy cure for it. There’s nothing I can do except show her, over and over again, that I will never deceive her or hurt her.
“We could forage for breakfast, if you like,” I offer, taking a small step toward Willow. “And then I can show you how to set traps. They’re an easy way to catch small animals, and much less dangerous than trying to hunt large ones. Even on your own, you would be able to get fresh meat, rather than just relying on what the plants offer.”
A flash of excitement brightens her eyes again, and she grabs her pack and hefts it onto her shoulders. I do the same, then turn around in time to see her pick up the walking stick she hit me with yesterday. She flushes a little as she notices my gaze land on it, glancing at the small wound on the side of my head.
“I figured it would be good to keep it with me, in case we run into anything dangerous,” she says, almost apologetically.
I smile. “That’s a good idea. And I already know you know how to use it.”
Her flush deepens, but when my grin grows wider, I swear I can see the hint of a smile curving the corners of her lips. I have to fight the urge to lean closer to see if I’m right. I could study her face for days on end, but I’m sure that would make her uncomfortable.
We head into the forest, and I make note of landmarks we pass so that I can navigate us back to our chosen campsite after we finish gathering food for breakfast. There’s a small lake not far from where we stayed last night, which will be useful for bathing.
I keep a bit of space between me and Willow, although I don’t trail behind her like I did yesterday. As we walk, I point out various plants and tell her their names and uses, as well as any possible dangers they might present. When we near a patch of stinging vines, I’m glad to see Willow veer to one side with no prompting from me. She’s a fast learner, and that will serve her very well out here.
After a while, we stop to pick some aroona roots. I show Willow how to identify the plants by their stems, and how to pull them from the ground without breaking them. She’s attentive and eager, watching me with serious eyes before kneeling down to try it herself.
As I watch her work, I can’t help remembering the words I heard her mutter last night, and my curiosity finally gets the better of me.
“Who is Max?” I ask.
Willow looks up sharply. A few strands of dark brown hair flutter against her cheek in the light breeze as her brows pull together. “What?”
“Max. Who is that?”
“Ah.” I sit back on my heels, abandoning the aroona root I was digging up. Something about her tone sounds very odd. I would almost think she’s lying about not knowing this person, but I don’t see any sign of deception on her face. “Never mind, then.”
“Why did you think I would know who ‘Max’ is?” Willow asks, her face a little pale.
I shrug. “I heard you say the name in your sleep last night. I thought perhaps it was someone you know.”
Instead of relaxing at my explanation, her features grow even more strained. Her throat moves as she swallows, and she stands up suddenly, shedding the small pile of roots that were resting on her lap.
“I…” She looks at a loss for words. She looks haunted. “I need to take a walk.”
She snatches up her stick from where it lies on the ground nearby, not even bothering with her pack, which she took off before we began collecting the aroona roots. Before I can think of anything to say, she’s striding away through the thick undergrowth of the forest.
I blink, staring after her.
Akhi. What just happened?
She’s clearly upset, but I have no idea why. That wasn’t my intention when I asked the question. Far from it.
I surge to my feet and start after her, leaving my pack behind as well. I can come back to collect it later, and there’s nothing that important in it anyway. Not more important than making sure Willow is all right.
She’s moving fast, walking at a fast pace as if she’s trying to outrun her own thoughts.
“Willow!” I call as I catch sight of her up ahead. “Wait!”
Her shoulders stiffen, and she turns her head to peer at me over her shoulder as she keeps walking.
Then she stumbles.
Rocks and grass shift beneath her feet as the ground gives away, and I watch in horror as she disappears into a small fissure in the forest floor.
9
Willow
A startled scream tears from my throat as my stomach lurches. Everything moves so fast that the world is hardly more than a disorienting blur as I slide downward into what seems like a gap in the forest floor.
Fortunately, it’s not too deep, and I hit the bottom with an “oomph” as small rocks, pebbles, and dirt cascade down around me. My last footstep must’ve landed on the very edge of the little crevasse, where the ground was unstable enough that it simply gave way.
Distantly, I hear Bohrir shout, but it’s hard for me to process the sound. I knocked the wind out of myself when I landed, and my lungs are seizing angrily, refusing to take in air or let it out. I gasp for breath, staring up at the bright patch of sky above me.
My mind is still reeling from too many shocks in quick succession, and I try to force it to focus.
How the hell am I going to get out of here? The walls of this little crevasse are almost vertical, and they have to be at least twelve feet high. I could try to climb out, but considering the way the ground crumbled away beneath my foot, I’m afraid it will just keep crumbling.
I sit up gingerly, putting a hand to my ribs, which got a bit bruised in the fall.
Then a soft, low noise catches my attention, and I whip my head around. The crevasse is narrow, less than two feet wide, and it’s shadowy and dim—but even so, it doesn’t take me long to spot the source of the noise.
A creature that looks like a cross between a large snake and a centipede is creeping slowly toward me from one end of the crevasse.
My heart lurches, adrenaline surging through me in a rush so powerful it makes my limbs shake. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the wobble in my knees and the way my lungs still don’t seem to want to work quite right. My walking stick lies nearby—I must’ve dropped it when I was sliding down the side of the crevasse—and I snatch it up, never taking my gaze off the slithering creature.
It seems to have scales like a snake would, but it also has dozens of insect-like legs protruding from its body. Its head is broad and flat, and two fangs arc down from its upper jaw. Four beady eyes focus on me, two on each side of its head, and the unblinking stare makes my skin crawl.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Gripping my walking stick tightly in both hands, I strike out at the snake-thing, aiming for its head. I don’t know if my aim is good enough to kill it, but I don’t need to. I just need to scare it, to make it turn around and slither-crawl away from me.
The creature’s head pulls back as the butt of my walking stick hits the ground right in front of it, and it hisses at me. But instead of turning away, it lunges toward me, fangs bared. I scream in terror, jabbing at it with the stick again, my movements desperate and jerky.
“Willow!”
Bohrir’s deep voice reaches my ears, but I can’t look away from the attacking snake-creature. It dodges one of my strikes, its body curling out of the way like a whip, then springs forward again, its insect-like legs moving fast as it hurtles toward me.
I stumble backward, still jabbing with my stick, but the crevasse isn’t very long from end to end, and I can feel the walls closing in around me as I reach the end of it.
Then, suddenly, a glint of metal flashes before my eyes. I barely even have time to register what it is before the tip of Bohrir’s knife embeds itself in the snake-creature’s head, hitting so hard that it pins the creature to the floor. The body flails wildly, whipping back and forth and striking the walls of the crevasse as death throes wrack the animal.
“Willow!”
Bohrir calls out again, and I finally wrench my attention away from the snake-like thing in front of me to look up at him. He’s leaning over the edge of the crevasse, splayed out on his stomach, probably. Fear burns in his violet-blue eyes as he extends a hand down to me.
“You have to get out of there,” he says, his voice strained. “There’s another kheeril behind you.”
I drop my gaze to the floor of the crevasse again, a chill working its way over my skin as I see another one of the creatures emerge from a hole in the wall on the other end. It moves toward me quickly, and fear nearly paralyzes me, but I force myself into action.
My walking stick isn’t a good enough defense against these things, but maybe it can still help me. I’m too far down to reach Bohrir’s hand, and I don’t have time to try to find viable hand or footholds in the wall. So I adjust my grip on the stick and swing it upward, guiding it toward Bohrir’s outstretched hand.
“Got it!” He wraps his fingers around it, then grabs it with his other hand too. For a brief instant, his gaze finds mine. “Hold on tight,” he orders.
I do, clutching the thick stick with everything in me as he hauls me upward. The snake-like creature lets out an angry hiss, its upper body coming off the ground as it lunges for me, but I’m already too high for it to reach.
Hand over fist, Bohrir drags the stick upward, until at last he hauls me up and over the edge. I stumble a little, and he grabs my arms to steady me, pulling me farther away from the edge of the crevasse.
“Are you all right?” he demands in a rough voice.
“Yes,” I gasp, my heart still racing.
He tugs the walking stick from my clenched hands and tosses it aside, his worried gaze scanning my face as if he can’t quite believe my words. Then something shifts in his features. His eyes widen as his shoulders go stiff, a look of shock passing over his face. His oval pupils dilate, expanding so much that his eyes almost look black.
“Rhael,” he murmurs quietly.
I blink. I don’t know what that word means. The translator chip that Gornok and his men implanted in my brain usually makes it possible for me to understand and be understood by aliens speaking any language—but there are a few words that don’t seem to have viable translations.
My mouth opens to ask him the meaning, but I can’t seem to get the words out. For some reason, it feels like I just got the wind knocked out of me again, as if my lungs and heart are all taking up t
oo much room in my chest and are being compressed by my ribs.
“Willow…”
Bohrir speaks again, and although I recognize that word, I still don’t know how to respond. There’s something in his tone, in the way he gazes down at me as he speaks, that robs me of the ability to form coherent sentences, even inside my own head.
I feel dazed, almost dizzy, as I crane my neck to meet his intense gaze. He’s so much taller than me, so much bigger and broader. That’s part of what used to make me afraid of him.
But right now, I don’t feel afraid. I just feel… overwhelmed.
It’s like the air has suddenly become heavier than normal, weighing down on us and making every breath take extra effort.
“I…” One of Bohrir’s hands releases my arm, and he lifts it toward my face as if he’s going to brush his fingertips over my cheek. My stomach flips over, my heart stuttering in my chest—
But then he stops.
“I was afraid you were going to be bitten by the kheeril,” he murmurs, dropping his hand.
He takes a step back, and the loss of his looming presence in front of me is so startling that I almost take a step forward to close the distance between us again. But I keep my feet planted where they are, swallowing hard as my heart starts beating somewhat normally again.
“I was afraid it would too,” I admit. “I’ve never seen one of those things in Pascia.”
“Yes.” Bohrir chuckles dryly, although his eyes still burn with an intensity I can’t quite understand. “Kheerils are a threat you only have to face in the wilderness. Although there are other kinds of monsters in the city.”
I’m sure he’s talking about Gornok and his men, and I nod emphatically. “Yeah. There are.”
Silence falls between us for a moment, and Bohrir gazes down at me as if there’s something else he wants to say. I have no idea what it might be, and I’m torn between hoping he’ll speak and hoping he won’t.
Her Alien Protector: Voxeran Fated Mates #6 Page 6