Razul offers me one more piece of fruit, then wraps a sling around me, shifting my weight from his arm. Unlike Sylvus’s gossamer silk, this sling is sturdy, heavy leather. The outside is nubby with reptilian scales, and the interior is lined with a cushy, dense fur.
I snuggle in, comfortable despite my nakedness.
Once Razul straps the sling across his chest—which he does with the help of his dexterous legs—I’m hidden from the world unless I decide to peek out.
Razul brushes his fingers across my cheeks and says something. I nuzzle into his touch.
He laughs warmly, then taps behind my ear.
I startle as the facsimile of his voice fills my mind, deep and rich.
“We’re about to leave the city and fly to my home. I’ll take you somewhere you can urinate. Do you need anything else? We’ll be in flight several hours.”
“O-oh, no, that’s fine.”
Once I’m ready—Razul insists I also drink some water and select a silk blanket from Sylvus’s collection—I settle against his chest. He climbs outside Sylvus’s house, then up staggered branches to the canopy.
There’s a low, rumbling vibration which must be his wings beating. Wind gently swirls around us, then with a jump and a lurch of gravity, we’re in the sky.
RAZUL
I leave Sherexis carrying even more precious cargo than when I arrived. I rest my arm over the sling, adding gentle pressure to assure Celeste of her security, especially as we climb far, far above the planet’s surface.
She shifts carefully, peeking over the edge of the sling. I smile into the cutting wind; she’s a brave little thing. She’d have to be to get this far and to agree to come with me, of all people.
Her heartbeat is bright against my skin, and it gradually slows as she relaxes.
The vistas of Zairion Prime have that effect on most sapients. At this time of day, the crimson forests take on a deep violet cast. They climb the shoulders of jagged blackstone mountains, becoming tough and gnarled with altitude. I fly us between two sheer peaks, my wings nearly brushing both sides of the narrow passage. We emerge, and the desert appears like a spill of molten gold on the horizon, slowly pooling outwards as we approach.
The air gets hotter and drier. My wings finally stop itching.
Celeste peeks a little further out, and I hold her chest against mine, making sure it’s impossible for her to fall.
How much she already trusts me is intoxicating. Her heart flutters as she glances straight down, and her small arms wrap tightly around mine.
I’m already beginning to understand her feeding difficulties, which comforts me. She clearly doesn’t like Beaumox fruit, which is unusual for a human, but I’m no stranger to unusual feeding preferences.
One of my best breeding females only accepts supplemental prey of a very specific age, and it must be fresh killed in front of her and rolled in cactus oil.
If anything is the slightest bit wrong, she won’t touch it. But when I fatten her up properly, she gives me some of my biggest clutches.
I hope Celeste will do similarly well under my care.
Below us, emerald veins cut across the rippling gold expanse, tracing rivers and underground springs.
Artful arrangements of colorful stones gathered from under the sands mark the burrows and homes of the Coleopteroids who live in this area. A sapphire spiral large enough to be seen from this height denotes the cactus orchard where I get many of my supplies. I usually stop by to greet the elderly darkling beetle woman who tends the grove, but she’ll understand me skipping the stop this time.
Celeste is undergoing a major change; better to minimize excess stress.
We pass the last of the scattered dwellings and sweep out over the rolling dunes. The warm air is thinner, so I bank to fly through thermals, which offer altitude without extra effort.
My estate is nearly impossible to spot from the sky, and that’s by design. Rustlers and egg thieves have to risk an arduous trek across the dunes to have even the slightest hope of finding my herds. Should they even get that far, I find their footprints and camp debris much faster than they find even a single caimite scale, and then I ensure they’ve seen their last sunset.
My track record is perfect, and it’s been a good few years since anyone has dared set foot anywhere near my territory.
Still, I prefer to keep my home hidden. I have no issue flying directly to it—its magnetic signature is as familiar as my own breath.
I descend in slow spirals, unsure what Celeste’s tolerance for the change of pressure will be. She works her jaw, which seems to help her equilibrate.
