I wrapped my arms around them, mindful of my claws and the blood that covered me, pulling them both into my lap and holding tight. But not too tight, never too tight, always aware of how fragile they were compared to me. My voice came out gruff and thick as I whispered vows of protection, promising to always keep them safe. The weight of their small bodies against mine felt like the most precious burden I’d ever carried. Their warmth seeped through my scales and settled deep in my chest where it kindled something tender and fierce, chasing away the remnants of the fury that had consumed me moments before.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured, letting my lips brush against first Jolie’s hair, then Lilibet’s crown of pink curls, soft as down against my mouth. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, heavy with guilt and self-recrimination.
“You were here,” Jolie muttered against my shoulder, her breath warm and shaky. “You saved us. You came when we needed you.”
“Are you hurt?” I let my gaze travel over Lilibet first, my hands trembling slightly as I examined her small body, searching for broken bones or bleeding wounds. She seemed only frightened and dirtied by the ordeal. Smudges of earth stained her round cheeks, and torn fabric revealed a scrape on her knee that had bled slightly, but nothing that spoke of actual harm. Jolie, on the other hand. A faint growl escaped my lips, rumbling deep in my chest, as I cupped her cheek. The skin was already discoloring with angry purples and blues that bloomed across her cheekbone, the bruise spreading and darkening even as I watched. The bone seemed sound beneath my touch, but her flesh would show the injury for days. The full lower lip wassplit dead center, the blood crusting at the edges. My brave, beautiful Zeihava had fought hard and wore the trophies of her battle like a warrior. The medi-unit still rested in my pack back at the treehouse, its compact form containing advanced healing technology that could knit flesh and fade bruises within hours. I would use it on both my females to ensure they bore no physical scars from this nightmare, no lasting marks on their skin to remind them of the terror they’d endured. As for healing their minds and spirits, I would do everything within my power to make sure they knew they were safe and cherished beyond measure, that no harm would ever reach them again while I drew breath.
Gradually, I became aware of the Peecha milling about the clearing, their chittering voices rising and falling in waves as Tark’s sharp, commanding calls directed his warriors to clean up the carnage scattered across the blood-soaked earth. I shifted my position carefully, deliberately angling my body to create a living wall between Lilibet’s line of sight and the gruesomeness, knowing that she’d already witnessed far more violence than any youngling should ever see. My new hold positioned her squarely in front of my chest, her small brow furrowing with confusion as her tiny hands patting experimentally over my transformed scales.
“You changed color,” she pouted, her lower lip jutting out in obvious disappointment. “I like the pretty colors better.”
Her simple words struck me with more force than anything the Wojonik warriors had managed to inflict. I’d felt the transformation overtaking my body, but in the heat of battle I’d dismissed it as nothing more than overwhelming rage and the desperate need to protect them.
“You’re bigger too,” Jolie chimed softly. I felt the tentative, exploratory touch of her hands traveling along myarm and across my shoulder, her fingers mapping the new, unfamiliar contours of my muscles.
The realization crashed over me like a wave. I’d shifted. For them. For my females.
A strange, almost overwhelming warmth spread through my chest. The transformation had been as natural as drawing breath. Shifting wasn’t merely a physical transformation. It was a promise written in bone, flesh and blood.
Jolie’s fingers continued their careful exploration, tracing the darkened scales that now covered my body, her touch gentle and almost reverent, as if she were touching something sacred and powerful. The scales felt different even to me. Harder and more angular, each one overlapping like armor plates, the surface rough and battle-ready, designed for war and violence.
“How did you do this?” she whispered, her voice carrying a blend of awe and curiosity.
My throat constricted and tightened with a tangle of emotions—pride, fear, wonder, shame, love—all knotted together into something that left me momentarily speechless. I couldn’t tell her yet what the transformation truly meant. That my body had recognized and responded to what my heart already understood.
“Why did the pretty colors go away?” Lilibet persisted, her small face scrunched with disappointment, clearly unimpressed by the practical advantages of my new form.
I gave her a gentle boop on her nose, trying to keep my explanation simple. “Zarpazians, like me, have the ability to grow larger and stronger when we need to protect those we care about most.” The words felt woefully inadequate, far too simple to explain the profound shift that had taken place.
“And you care about us,” Lilibet preened with satisfaction as she snuggled closer against my chest.
“Very much,qizim,” I murmured, letting my lips brush against her soft cheek. “Very, very much.”
“Kissim,” Lilibet attempted, thoroughly butchering the pronunciation of the Zarpazian word for daughter. “I’m not kissim, I’m Lilibet.”
Before I could explain, Tark strode up to our side, his expression thunderous as storm clouds. “We will take the dead and the spaceship to the southern caves,” he announced, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “They will never be found there.” One large, fur-covered arm swept out in a wide, encompassing gesture, indicating the blood-soaked earth. “What happened? How did we not know of their arrival?”
I translated his question to Jolie, watching color drain from her cheeks as the memories flooded back.
“They were cloaked,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Lilibet and I were in the garden, picking berries for lunch. We didn’t see or hear them until they were right on top of us.” Her whole body shuddered at the memory. I ran my palm soothingly up and down her back, feeling the tremors that coursed through her slender frame like aftershocks. “We ran into the treehouse, but....” Her faint shrug and the haunted, hollow look in her eyes told the rest of the story more eloquently than words.
“Did they say anything that might indicate how they found you?” I asked, my mind racing through the possibilities. A traitor among my crew, perhaps, someone who had sold us out for credits or coercion? Something darker and more insidious or larger, a network spreading like poison through the galaxy. The ideas left me seething with a volatile mix of worry and fury.
“No,” Jolie shook her head, her brows furrowing, and a flicker of disgust washed over her features. “They only talked about how much Qurbaga would pay for our return. They kept saying we were worth a fortune.”
Qurbaga. The name sent a flood of fire through my veins, white-hot and searing. Royalty or not, he would die for hurting my females—slowly and painfully.
Ceeka ambled up immediately dropping to her knees beside us to examine Jolie and Lilibet. She tsked with disgust at the purpling bruise blooming across my zeihava’s cheek. From the worn leather pouch at her hip, she pulled a deep emerald leaf, and stroked it soothingly over Jolie’s injured skin, her weathered fingers gentle and sure.
“I do not think the treehouse is safe any longer,” she said, her chittering soft and melodic as though Jolie and Lilibet could understand her language. “You should move to the Peecha village. Much harder to find, easier to defend.” Her dark eyes held mine, communicating the gravity of the situation without need for further words.
I translated Ceeka’s counsel for Jolie, and she nodded in immediate agreement. “Perhaps Numa can help us pack.” Suddenly her body went rigid, every muscle tensing as realization struck like a physical blow. “Oh my God, Numa!” Her eyes widened with panic, her voice growing frantic and breathless as the words tumbled out. “She was here when the Wojonik arrived, and I don’t know what happened to her....”
Ceeka shushed her with a gentle pat of her hand against Jolie’s shoulder, chittering away in soothing tones that needed no translation, the cadence itself a comfort.
“Numa ran for help the moment the Wojonik arrived. She’s the reason the Peecha got here so quickly,” I explained, watching relief wash over Jolie’s.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Jolie breathed, her palm pressed flat against her heart as if to calm its frantic beating. She clambered to her feet, pulling Lilibet along as well. I rose with them, every instinct screaming at me to never let them out of my sight again. “Let’s go pack,” she told the youngling with forcedbrightness, her voice taking on an artificially cheerful tone that didn’t quite mask the underlying tremor. “We’re going to stay with the Peecha for a while.”
