Текст книги "Roks captive"

Автор книги: A.G. Wilde

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

“I need to get back,” I whisper, knowing he won’t understand but needing to say it anyway. “My sister, the others—they need me. They’re waiting.”

The alien makes that clicking sound again, softer this time. Is it meant to be reassuring? Threatening? A warning to shut up? I have no way of knowing.

One thing is clear. From his stance at the entrance, he’s not letting me pass.

I slide down the wall until I’m sitting, suddenly aware of how utterly exhausted I am. My muscles scream in protest, my throat burns with thirst, and every inch of exposed skin feels scorched.

At least I’m alive. For now. And not being eaten by whatever was making those sounds outside. Also a plus.

For a moment, I simply allow myself to breathe. Until the adrenaline dies down and my hands stop shaking enough to reach for my pack. One and a half water packets left. Each drop is precious, but after that run, and with my heart still racing, I need it.

I fumble with the packet in the darkness. When I finally get my fingers on the lid, a sharp movement makes me freeze.

His body goes rigid. The glow catches his eyes, fixed not on me—but on the packet in my hands. Before I can react, he moves, so fast I barely register it, snatching the packet from my grip with a swift motion that makes me gasp.

“Hey!” I protest, but he’s already turning the plastic packet over in his hands, examining it with intense concentration, running his fingers along the sealed edges.

His nostrils flare as he brings it closer to his face, sniffing at it suspiciously. Those golden eyes narrow, darting from the packet to me, a strange accusation in his eyes that leaves me dumbfounded. Then he goes completely still, staring at me with such intensity it’s almost physical. His focus is absolute, pupils contracting to thin slits as he continues to hold my gaze for what feels like an eternity.

I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Like I’m supposed to read your mind or something.”

He continues that unnerving stare, and I swear I can feel pressure building behind my eyes. It’s probably just exhaustion and dehydration, but…weird. He tilts his head slightly, the stare never breaking. If anything, it intensifies, his brow furrowing with what looks like concentration or frustration.

“Sorry, buddy. Whatever you’re trying to communicate isn’t working.” I tap my temple. “No mind reading capabilities installed.”

Something flickers across his face—surprise maybe, or confusion. He blinks rapidly, then returns his attention to the water packet, his fingers prod at it, trying to find an opening, but clearly unfamiliar with the technology.

I hold out my hand, palm up. “Give it back,” I say, then realize he can’t understand. “I’ll show you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he extends the packet toward me, but doesn’t release it. We sit like that for a moment, both holding the packet, a strange standoff over the most basic of survival needs. My fingers graze his and his skin ripples in response, like something alive shifting beneath the surface. A slow wave rolls up his arm—like the desert itself just woke up inside him.

What the…

When my gaze shifts back to his, that lump rises in my throat again. He’s not looking at me with that intensity he had a moment ago. This is different. As if he’s struggling to process something, his pupils dilating and contracting rapidly.

I adjust my fingers so we’re no longer touching. It reminds me of my cousin’s shellfish allergy—that immediate physical reaction when his body encountered something it wasn’t designed to handle. But this is different, more like the alien’s skin is responding to me specifically. Like I’m the allergen.

“It’s just water,” I whisper, maybe to distract myself or him. It’s a weak attempt. He still doesn’t let go.

Slowly, carefully, I twist the cap with my free hand, my eyes never leaving his. The alien jerks in surprise when the cap pops off, but he still doesn’t let go.

“See?” I say softly. “It’s just water.”

For a heartbeat, I forget where I am, forget the danger, forget everything except those strange golden eyes locked on mine. They’re…mesmerizing.

I’d be a dumbass to ignore the fact that this creature before me is by far the most wild and enchanting thing I have, and probably will ever, encounter. He’s…beautiful. In the way a lightning storm is beautiful after calm. The air between us feels suddenly charged and I’m faced with the fact that he is as wild and strange as the desert around us, and I am at his mercy.

He blinks first, breaking whatever spell had fallen over us. His nostrils flare as he brings the packet closer to his face, sniffing at it suspiciously. The concentration on his face would be comical under different circumstances—like watching someone inspect fine wine instead of emergency rations.

Finally, he tips the packet ever so slightly, allowing the smallest drop to touch his tongue.

The moment the water touches his tongue, he jerks back like I just fed him acid. His lips peel back, exposing those sharp teeth, a growl vibrating through his chest. He wipes his mouth—again and again—his whole body shuddering in what can only be pure, unfiltered disgust.

He thrusts the packet back at me with such force I nearly drop it. “What—you don’t like it?” I can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “It’s just water. Maybe a little stale, but⁠—”

The alien makes another disgusted sound, and I stifle another laugh.

“Fine, more for me.” I take a cautious sip, half-expecting it to taste terrible, but it’s just water—slightly warm and with that faint metallic flavor all the emergency rations have, but nothing offensive.

The alien watches me drink with a mixture of disgust and horror, as if I’m downing poison by choice. When I finish, his gaze follows my hand as I carefully reseal the half-empty packet and return it to my bag.

“Different tastebuds, I guess.” I shrug, settling back against the wall. “Or maybe your water’s just better than ours.”

The alien continues to stare at me for a long moment, then makes that clicking sound again—softer this time, almost thoughtful—before returning to his position at the cave entrance. He crouches there, perfectly balanced, a golden sentinel between me and whatever’s outside.

I can’t help but notice he keeps flexing the hand that touched mine, opening and closing his fingers as if testing them. And then he touches his jaw, trailing his fingers over the spot where I’d punched him earlier. The luminescence beneath his skin pulses irregularly along that arm, almost like aftershocks from when I touched him there.

I don’t…I don’t know what to think of that.

Did I hurt him? No—he’s too solid for that. But then why does he keep touching where I did?

“Sorry…” I whisper, though I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I’m suddenly aware of how utterly exhausted I am. My muscles scream in protest. My throat feels better, at least. The initial panic has subsided into a dull, throbbing awareness of my situation.

I’m lost. Completely cut off from Jacqui and the others.

“What am I going to do?” I whisper, not expecting an answer.

The alien tilts his head slightly at the sound of my voice, but those luminous eyes remain focused on the darkness outside.

“Jacqui’s going to kill me.” A humorless laugh escapes before I swallow it down. “If those screaming things don’t beat her to it.”

The soft glow in the cave dims and I glance back at the alien’s silhouette. His body language screams ‘feral’—from the way he balances on the balls of his feet to the tilt of his head as he listens to sounds I can’t detect. Those sharp teeth I glimpsed earlier weren’t for show. This isn’t some benevolent E.T. who’s going to help me phone home. At least he seems to be standing guard and not coming after me.

Still, I’m double fucked.

In the ass.

Zero lube.

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Chapter 8

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WATER STORAGE: YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG

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ROK

Night has deepened since I brought the male to this cave. The shadowmaws have moved on to easier prey, their clicking calls fading into the distance. Yet I remain vigilant, my senses alert for any threat that might return.

But the greatest puzzle is before me.

This male drinks foul water. Water that tastes of decay and artificial substances I cannot name. Water that should be rejected by any being with functioning senses. Yet he consumes this poison willingly, even eagerly.

It is no wonder he is so small. So weak. What other proper nourishment does he lack? No wonder he cannot perform mindspeak. He does not have the power to do so. The poor creature must have been surviving in these harsh conditions for many cycles.

The fact I found him breathing is a miracle in itself. He is not from this region. That is clear. A traveler then. From far away. One whose supplies probably dwindled and went stale as he made his way across the dust. His strange waterskin is proof enough.

I almost want to introduce him to one of our fresh pools, just so he can sate himself for possibly the first time in his existence, but I do not.

Instead, I watch as he settles against the cave wall, his eyes growing heavy. My instinct is to stay vigilant, to watch the cave entrance for shadowmaws, but I cannot help tracking his movements. The way he breathes. The strange hide on his body. The unusual dullness of his skin.

He is unlike any Drakav I have ever encountered. Too small, too soft, with strange rounded features and dull, flat teeth. How does he tear meat? How does he defend himself? If I had left him to the shadowmaws, he would have made an easy meal.

As the dark deepens, the shadowmaws’ clicks grow fainter as they move away to hunt easier prey. Still, I remain alert. They are clever hunters. I’ve seen them feign retreat only to circle back when their quarry believes itself safe.

So…I will wait. With this traveler…

Staring out into the dark beyond, I weigh his discovery in my mind. Kol would have known what to do from the first moment. That is why he is our leader.

Solmarks pass. The male rests…even in my presence. His lack of caution is concerning. But this is the first time since being in his presence where my ears are not ringing from his constant vocalizations. The silence is like a balm, but his breathing is shallow and quick. Too quick, perhaps?

I turn my gaze from the cave entrance to study him more carefully.

Something is not right.

The male’s skin has changed. Before, it was a pale color, almost like the belly of a sand-skimmer. Now there is an unnatural flush spreading across his face. The skin there is hot, the warmth reaching me even from where I crouch at the cave entrance. This is not right. No Drakav would allow their temperature to rise so dangerously unless they were prepared for skin-shedding. And this creature is in no condition to shed anything.

I remain at my post. The shadowmaws are still too close. But my eyes continually stray back to the small being.

He makes a sound—not like his earlier vocalizations, but something raw and pained. The sound brings me to my feet before I can consider whether this is wise. I move silently across the cave, every sense alert for danger, both from without and from the male himself.

Lowering my head, I sniff the air around him. Sweet. A strange sweetness that assaulted my senses as I carried him here. But there is a new scent now. Something sharper. More acrid.

Then I see it.

The moisture.

I lower myself, moving on all fours, slow and careful. My hands and feet find purchase on either side of the male as I hover over him, studying. The color change is alarming, but there’s something else wrong with his skin. There brim tiny droplets of…water?

I lean in closer, nostrils flaring. Yes. Salty like the east sands, but water nonetheless. It’s seeping from his skin, collecting in small beads on his brow and trailing down his neck.

Water. Precious water. Leaking out as if his skin is filled with holes.

The sight is so strange I am transfixed by horror.

Either this male is dying or he is from a place far away, where water flows freely enough to waste from one’s skin.

I growl low in my throat, disturbed by this offense against everything I know to be right. Water is life. Water is sacred. Water is never, ever wasted.

But as I stare at the male, something tells me this is not intentional. The rapid breathing, the flushed skin, the heat radiating from him⁠—

He makes another sound, this one weaker than before, and something tugs at me. Something unfamiliar. A need to…help? Why would I help this creature? Why would I risk myself for a male that does not belong to our lands?

And yet…

I reach out, my hand hovering just above his face. Heat rises from his skin like the air above the dunes when Ain is at her highest. The warmth does not bother me, but then I recall how this male stumbled through the sands, obviously burdened by Ain’s rage.

Before I can think twice, I touch his brow.

The rush of information is immediate, more intense than before. Temperature—far too high, even for a dust-dweller. Texture—so much softer than Drakav skin, with none of the protective layers we possess. Chemical composition—water, yes, salt…but also unfamiliar elements that sing across my senses in strange patterns.

And something else. Something that makes me want to press my palm flat against his skin, to maintain this connection that hums with an energy I have never felt before.

I jerk back, a wave of…something…going through me. What is this? Why does the touch of this male affect me? I have touched many injured Drakav before—my brothers, my tribe mates—and felt nothing like this strange pull.

The male twitches in his sleep, a small whimper escaping his lips. The sound burrows into me, touching some part I did not know existed.

I flex my fingers before lowering myself again, this time pressing my palm flat against his brow. My skin glows brighter without my conscious command, responding to…what? Threat? Danger? No. Something else entirely.

The flood of sensation is stronger this time. The heat beneath my hand is alarming—hotter than the sands at Ain’s highest point, hotter than the stone after a full day beneath Ain’s brutal gaze.

Even our sacred sun does not burn with such intensity.

This creature—this male—is burning from within. The heat is unnatural—a wildfire burning beneath fragile skin. My kind does not suffer such betrayals of the body. We endure. We survive. We do not burn from within.

Fire, when uncontrolled, devours itself.

The male shivers, tremors rattling through his frame, and a sound leaves his lips—soft, needy. Not like any sound I have heard any Drakav make before. My chest tightens. It is the sound of a creature on the brink, the final plea before the void swallows it whole.

My claws extend. Fists clench. I should leave this male to his fate. The weak perish, the strong endure. That is law.

And yet.

I swallow, scowling at the clawing feeling inside me, the way my own body rebels against reason.

This male… He is not completely weak. He survived the dust long before I found him. If I leave him, it will not be because he lacks the will to live—but because I denied him the chance.

A growl rumbles in my chest. Unacceptable.

Water. He needs water to kill the fire. I have none to give. I had already consumed every drop I needed before leaving the tribe.

But…

There is one place. Deep within the cavern network, beyond the tunnels I call safe, there lies an underground spring. But the cave does not belong to us alone.

My jaw tenses. I do not hesitate often. I do not doubt. But this⁠—

The male gasps, a fragile, broken sound. I do not allow myself another moment of thought.

I rise. And I run.

It takes me a short time to get there. A few moments out in the open sands before the caverns swallow me whole once more, darkness pressing against my senses as I navigate by memory and scent. The air thickens, damp with the promise of water, but so too does the scent of something else. Something old. Something that does not belong to us.

I bare my fangs. I have no time for a fight. Moving swiftly, silent like the dark winds, I trace the scent of the underground spring. When the first glimmer of water comes into view, I don’t pause. I search the cave floor, finding what I need—a broad, thick leaf from the rare plants that grow only near the sacred waters. Their waxy surface holds water better than any hide.

I fold the leaf with care, creating a natural vessel. The leaves themselves are sacred—they grow nowhere else in the deep sands, surviving only on the pure waters and the dim light that filters through cracks in the cavern ceiling. This is to save a life. Ain will not punish me for this.

As I fill the makeshift vessel, I sense movement in the darkness behind me. The scent shifts. A presence.

I do not look. I do not falter.

I drink one swift mouthful—taking only what I need to return to my tribe safely—and secure the rest in the folded leaf. Then I am running once more, water sloshing inside the leaf. I steady my hand, not daring to lose a single drop to the dust.

I do not think I was gone for long. But when I return, the male is not where I left him.

I still, nostrils flaring. At first, I believe myself tricked. That the male feigned illness so he could slip away. But then my senses pick up one thing.

There is a scent, and it is everywhere. Saliva swells underneath my tongue as if I have just scented the most delicious meal.

Then I see it.

The male. He has moved to the far corner of the cave, thrashing weakly against the stone. But this is not what freezes my blood.

The coverings—those strange hides—they’ve been torn away, lying in scattered heaps on the cave floor. And the body revealed beneath them…

My breath turns to dust in my lungs. The leaf vessel nearly slips from my claws as my body locks in place. The male writhes on the ground, limbs twisting against the cool stone, seeking relief from the fire within. But all I can see are the curves. The softness. The undeniable shape of something that is not male.

Even the circular lumps I believed were gourds are instead fleshy mounds rising from his chest.

Every muscle in my being tenses. Every instinct roars to life. My skin flashes bright, probably alerting every shadowmaw in our vicinity, then dims, then flashes bright again—responding to a surge of…something I have no name for.

Slow steps carry me forward, the leaf clutched tight in my claw, water forgotten for one breathless moment as I struggle to comprehend what my eyes tell me.

My nostrils flare as I inhale, and⁠—

Something inside me cracks.

The scent hits me like a strike to the chest. Something rich, something designed to be consumed, to be taken. My vision darkens at the edges, my fangs lengthening, an unfamiliar snarl twisting in my throat.

My body moves before my mind can stop it.

I pin the creature down.

His skin is hot beneath my claws, moisture-slicked and trembling. A weak protest dies on his lips.

My breath ghosts over his throat, then lower, drinking in his scent like it’s precious water in the dry season. I don’t understand it. Don’t know why my body reacts this way, why my gut clenches with a need so sudden, so absolute, it makes my muscles seize.

But then I reach his lower gut.

And the scent there—gods, the scent there.

A deep, primal growl tears from my chest, the sound surprising even me.

Something wakes inside me. Something old. Something lethals.

This is no male.

This is something else.

Something meant for me.

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Chapter 9

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FIRST AID ACROSS GALAXIES: RESULTS MAY VARY

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JUSTINE

Everything hurts. Out of seemingly nowhere, my skin goes on fire, and the heat has somehow seeped into my bones. Every movement sends fresh waves of agony rolling through me, and my limbs feel like they’ve been replaced with lead.

My skin is burning, but not just from fever. It’s as if something deeper pulses beneath the surface. A restless, gnawing heat. I twist, trying to rid myself of the sensation, my thighs pressing together as a familiar ache throbs between them. What the hell? I haven’t been touched in months, years, but my body is reacting like I’m being teased by invisible hands. A whimper escapes my lips, and I bite down hard.

This isn’t normal. This isn’t me.

When I open my eyes, the cave is empty.

The alien? Gone.

He left.

A strange hollowness settles in my chest. Something I’d rather not think about too closely. I should be glad he’s gone.

This is my chance. I can get out now. Head back to the bus.

But when I try to stand, my legs buckle. The world tilts, nausea clawing up my throat. It takes all my strength just to crawl to the cooler stone in the corner of the cave.

“Get up,” I whisper to myself. “Come on, Justine. Get up. You’ve got this. You’re not dying in a cave in the center of this fucking amped-up Sahara.”

The rational part of my brain whispers about heat exhaustion, dehydration, and the dangers of overheating. But rational thought is becoming harder to hold on to because of this rising fever.

God, my clothes. They’re sticking to my skin, making everything feel worse. With fumbling fingers, I tear off my top, then my shoes, then my pants—anything to cool down. The stone feels blissfully cool against my burning skin, but the relief is short-lived.

“Water,” I croak, but there is no one to hear me. My last water packet is still in my bag, but I can’t bring myself to touch it. If I use it now, I’ll have nothing left for the trip back.

Oh fuck. Is this how I die? Curled in a ball in an alien cave, slow-cooked from the inside out while Jacqui waits for me to come back? She’ll never know what happened to me. None of them will.

A sound at the cave entrance jerks me back to awareness.

At first, I think it’s one of those creatures from earlier. But no.

Through fever-blurred vision, I see him—the alien. He’s standing there, something clutched in his hand, his entire body gone rigid as he stares at me.

He came back.

I can’t believe it. He came back for me.

I try to speak, to ask for help, but all that comes out is a weak moan. My eyes flutter shut, but I force them open again just in time to see the soft glow that had emanated from his skin before suddenly flare bright. I swear I see stars…and they’re under his skin. His light flickers and dims, then flares again, like a heartbeat gone haywire. His eyes seem to change too—the pupils contracting to pinpoints before expanding to consume nearly the entire iris.

I should be afraid. Definitely afraid.

Instead, I’m transfixed.

The alien makes a sound—a low rumble that’s somewhere between a growl and a purr. It vibrates deep in his chest, sending a strange shiver down my spine. He moves toward me slowly. Stalking rather than walking.

I should run.

Instead, I whisper, “Please.”

I’m not even sure what I’m asking for. Help? Mercy? Water? All the above?

Before I can process what’s happening, he’s on me. One moment, he’s across the cave, and the next, his much larger body is looming over mine, pinning me to the ground.

Panic flares through me, but I’m too weak to fight him off.

“W-what…” All the panic and my voice comes out as a whisper.

He’s so close. Too close. His massive body cages mine, his weight pressing down on me, one of his hands pinning both of my wrists above my head. Through my delirium, I register the solid heat of him, the overwhelming presence of him, and the way his glowing skin seems to pulse with every ragged breath.

His face is so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. Then he dips lower, his nose featherlight along my neck as he inhales, pulling air into his lungs so deeply that it sends a shiver through me.

Oh my god. He’s scenting me.

Great. I survived an alien abduction only to die because I forgot deodorant!

“Okay,” I mutter, but my voice shakes. “This…is fine. Totally normal alien behavior.” But the words don’t sound convincing, even to me.

He growls again, the sound vibrating through my chest. His nose continues its slow path down my collarbone, his breath warm against my fevered skin. Each place he touches sends conflicting signals through my body—part alarm, part something else I really don’t want to focus on.

“Seriously,” I croak, squirming weakly beneath him. “What are you doing?”

He freezes. His golden eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there’s something almost…human in his expression. Confusion.

But then his gaze drops and I remember I’m only in my bra and panties. His growl returns, louder this time. The light beneath his skin concentrates along his chest and throat, forming intricate patterns that seem to flicker with his quickening heartbeat.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

His pupils blow wide, swallowing the gold of his irises until only a thin ring remains.

“Wait,” I try, my voice cracking. “Don’t⁠—”

But I don’t get the chance to finish. His head dips lower, and I feel his nose trail down my stomach, leaving a burning path in its wake.

“You really don’t want to,” I whisper, but the words are weak, swallowed by the fever and the weight of him pressing me into the stone.

Then his face is there—between my thighs.

My entire body jerks in shock, every nerve firing at once.

“What the hell are you—” All the words disappear from my lips as he inhales deeply. The sound that comes from him is like an animal catching the scent of prey.

Heat floods my face, my chest, my entire body.

“Stop!” I twist beneath him, trying to close my legs. But his other massive hand clamps down on my leg, holding me open like I’m some kind of offering for him.

A sound tears from his throat—half growl, half groan—and it’s so raw, so primal, that it freezes me in place.

I should be terrified. And I am. But what terrifies me even more is the way my body betrays me. The way heat pools low in my stomach, tangling with my fear and confusion in a way that makes me want to scream.

This isn’t happening.

This can’t be happening.

“Get off me!” I gasp, trying again to squirm free, but it’s useless. He’s too strong, his grip unyielding as his face remains buried between my thighs, his breath hot and steady against my skin.

The sound that comes from him next is almost violent, a deep, feral snarl that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. His entire body goes rigid, his glow flaring bright enough to rival this planet’s sun.

And then he freezes. His glow flickers like a flame in the wind.

The growling stops.

Slowly, his head lifts and his gaze meets mine. I freeze beneath him.

There’s something in his eyes now—something wild and conflicted and utterly alien.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Then, as if some invisible switch has been flipped, he lets out a low, frustrated sound and pulls back, releasing me as he retreats.

I scramble backward the moment he’s off me, pressing myself against the cool stone wall, my heart hammering in my chest.

He doesn’t look at me. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a series of deep, shuddering breaths, his hands flexing at his sides. He looks like he’s fighting something—like he’s barely holding himself together. And the light underneath his skin, it flickers. Wildly. Stars. So many stars. All going on and off at once.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I rasp. My voice trembles and I hate it.

When he turns back to me, there’s something feral in his movement—a wild sort of grace that makes my heart slam against my ribs. He stalks toward me, and I press myself harder against the stone, certain he’s about to…but instead, he reaches down beside me, retrieving a broad leaf I hadn’t noticed before, braced carefully against the rock.

A cool drop of water lands on my chest.

I gasp at the shock of it.

Water.

“You brought water?” My voice is little more than a croak, but the words seem to register. His jaw clenches and he simply stares into my soul the same way he was before. That deep, probing gaze that makes me feel like he’s trying to push thoughts directly into my mind. As if he could make me understand whatever he’s thinking through sheer force of will alone.

His chest heaves with every breath as he reaches for me, slipping an arm beneath my shoulders and lifting me slightly. All the while, that storm of light erupts under his skin, worse now that he’s close again—as if being close to me is setting off some kind of virus in him. The movement presses my body against his, and I gasp.

His temperature has changed. While my skin flares with heat, his is cool.

The contrast is shocking—his skin feels like smooth stone left in the shade, soothing against the fever burning beneath my own. The chill of him seeps into me, chasing away the dizziness for one fleeting moment, and I can’t stop the involuntary sigh that escapes my lips.

He brings the leaf to my lips, and I drink greedily, the water cool and impossibly sweet. It’s nothing like the stale, chemical taste of the emergency rations. Nothing like water back home, either. This is pure—perfect. Sent from the fountain of the gods.

“More,” I whisper.

Before I know it, the last few drops disappear down my throat.

“Fuck.”

The alien’s eyes narrow slightly, his gaze flicking to my fevered body before he presses his palm against my forehead. His cool touch is electric, and my body reacts before I can stop it, a small sound of relief escaping my lips.

His expression shifts at the sound—something dark flickering across his face.

Then, just like that, he’s gone again, moving toward the cave entrance with that strange, fluid grace.

“Wait…” I manage. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he gathers something from outside the cave—smooth stones, arranging them in a circle on the ground at my feet.

For a moment, my thoughts drift back to the transport. To Jacqui waiting for me, probably pacing and snapping at anyone who tells her to calm down. To Erika, meticulously rationing supplies, marking off how many hours I’ve been gone. To the others, watching the horizon for my return with dwindling hope. The guilt is almost as hot as the fever. I promised I’d come back with answers, with help. Instead, I’m dying in a cave with a creature I can’t even communicate with.