“Then let’s go.” I said, cradling Pip. “All of us. Because we’re a package deal now.”
We made our way out of the shelter, Pip drowsing in my arms and Andrek limping beside us.
This little family was what I’d been searching for all along, even if it looked nothing like what I’d imagined.
The twin moons were visible again through the broken windows, shining clear and bright now that the storm had passed. The house took damage. Debris scattered through the hallways, water stains on the ceiling, shattered glass glittered in the emergency lighting.
But we were safe. We were together.
For the first time since I arrived on this strange alien world, I felt like I was where I was supposed to be.
Pip stirred in my arms, one small hand coming up to rest against my cheek.
“I will,” I whispered to her. “I promise, little star. I’ll be here. Always.”
Chapter 7
Dani
Themorningafterthestorm, I woke before my alarm and lay in the dark for a few moments before I realized the empty stomach feeling wasn’t my own.
Pip was hungry.
My stomach was fine, still half-full from the dinner I’d eaten while Andrek was being treated at the medical center.
I was out of bed in seconds, reaching for the light cardigan I left on the chair beside the door. Ready to go.
The bond hummed in the back of my mind like a second heartbeat. It hugged me like a warm thread, connecting me to Pip regardless of the walls and distance between us.
She grew impatient.
“Alright, alright,” I murmured to the empty room, and went to grab her and start breakfast.
Andrek was already in the kitchen when we arrived. He moved with care, his left arm wrapped in a medical sleeve that kept the wound from the storm sealed and medicated. His movements were slower than usual, compensating for the restricted mobility. Despite his limitations, he set out Pip’s favorite bowl and was measuring grain mixture with one-handed precision.
“You felt him wake up,” he said without turning.
“Hunger,” I confirmed, strapping Pip into the seat before moving to the warming unit and taking over the preparation without discussion. Andrek stepped aside for me. Mere days ago, our interactions in this kitchen had been a careful negotiation of space. Now we moved around each other as if we’d been doing it for years.
“That will be one of the first consistent signals,” Andrek said, settling onto one of the high stools. His posture told me his ribs were still sore. “Hunger and fear are the strongest broadcasting emotions in young Yxians. You’ll learn to distinguish them from background noise within a few days.”
“And the others?”
“They take more time.” He picked up his tea with his good arm, watching me work. “Joy is next. You’ll feel it as a lightness. Contentment is warmth. Curiosity feels more like a buzzing?” He took a sip. The Yxian word for it is,” he made a sound that vibrated at the back of his throat, “which roughly translates to the feeling when something catches light.”
I repeated the word to the best of my ability.
The corner of his mouth moved. “Better than your first attempt at the harmonics.”
“The bar’s in hell.”
“I know.” This time he smiled.
Pip’s impatience spiked through the bond, and I picked up the pace. The bowl was warm and ready a few minutes later.
When I turned, Pip reached out - not for food. For me.
“Good morning, little star,” I said. She pressed her forehead to my cheek in the Yxian bonding gesture, the equivalent of a hug. Through the connection between us, I felt her good mood like sunlight.
