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I do not answer that question. I don’t know the answer to it. But I’m not going to tell him that. Advertising one’s weaknesses is not the brightest idea when dealing with dangerous sentient beasts with jaws big enough to fit around your head.
I am saved from having to come up with an answer as Nya makes a near purring sound and rubs herself along his side. The newcomer looks pleased with himself, which only goes to show how much ego he is in possession of.
The problem here is that Nya is not a free agent. She has a very dominant, very possessive mate, who I call Mr. Grumps. He is the largest male in the pack, and he is watching what is happening now with a kind of virile rage.
“Greeeoowrr!”
That’s the sound of something very bad about to happen.
Mr. Grumps charges with death in his eyes. I know for a fact that the newcomer is about to be ripped to fucking shreds. There is no doubt about it. He turns to face the oncoming wild thing, and I see pure fear flash in his eyes. There’s not enough time for him to run, and Grumps is not interested in his submission.
I guess this is up to me.
I slide in front of the newcomer, turning Mr. Grumps away at the very last moment. He and Nya move away at a fast clip, Nya biting at Grumps’ haunches in what I think is rough foreplay.
Turning around, I look at the furry jerk on the ground. He is panting from the exertion of being afraid.
“I just saved your life,” I tell him, with absolutely no chill. “You can thank me by being less of an asshole. And by telling me your name.”
* * *
Volt
I would rather have died than been saved by a human, but to say so seems ungrateful. If not for her, I would have been killed.
“My name is Captain Volt of the Destroyer. I came to this planet to spend time with the ancient ones.”
She nods, satisfied. “My name is Penelope, of the recently disintegrated. I was left here as a placeholder for our expedition, but the ship exploded and nobody knew where I was. The wild things saved me from the fire, and brought me here. We’ve been looking after one another ever since.”
She means corrupting them.
“You mean feeding them soup and eating their kills. Living here like a wild thing, far from the human race you imagine yourself to be a part of.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” She sits down next to me with an easy familiarity. “It is really nice to have someone to talk to. Even with how nice they are, it’s not the same as being able to share words, you know? I’ve been more lonely than I thought it was possible to be.”
I do not want to empathize with this little human, but I find myself understanding her position. I felt some trepidation about spending thirty days here, and she has been lost here for far longer than that, having the experience I had hoped to have myself.
This female has stolen my time with the wild ones. She has changed everything forever. She has very possibly ruined everything forever. And yet, all I can think about in this precise moment is the fact that she is… pretty. In a soft and fleshy sort of way. I think it is her eyes that most draw me. Her red hair and brows frame those two orbs of intense darkness. There is a survivor behind those eyes.
Sitting up, I attempt to regain some of the dignity I have recently lost. The wild ones are treating me like a stray whelp. I can expect rough handling and little in the way of mercy. I know that my presence is required, and attempting to leave will be met with aggression.
“Here,” she says. “You really need to eat. You don’t look like a hunter.”
She gives me a bowl of her human soup. Hot water and meat floating with bits of plant around it. It smells good because it is food, but that is where my enjoyment has to end. I cannot feel any sense of kindness or forgiveness for this human.
I want to be interacting with the wild ones, but now that she is close, she is a distraction I cannot ignore. Her scent is intoxicating. Something that infiltrates every part of my flesh and worms its way to my very loins.
It has been too long since I have mated. My crew is off limits for copulation. The captain must keep himself above such matters, as females, like the one who just attempted to initiate mating with me, become unsettled and aggressive when posturing for the position of alpha female.
I sip a little of the soup. It is good. Rich. Meaty. I have never been a fan of food that is mostly water, but in this moment the comfort of hot nourishment helps me recover from the latest indignity I have suffered at the claws, paws, and jaws of the wild ones.
