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“Eat,” the older male insists. “We do not wish to be looking for you passed out somewhere among the trees, also.”
Razhan takes the bowl from Karvin’s hand with a sheepish grin.
“These females have turned my headspace from sense,” he says. “Even ones that belong to another.” He gives me another beaming smile. “I’m pleased for you, brother. And I’m sorry my foolishness means that she is lost.”
“Your foolishness may well be why she is awake at all, and for that reason, I can only be glad of it,” I say, grinning.
We eat quickly. Delfom packs a light bag and sets off towards the village. I pack my own supplies, double checking I have everything I need to attend to my linasha’s comforts.
“You should take weapons,” Karvin says, holding out a spear to me. “I know you do not wish to appear threatening to her, but do not forget what we defended her from while she slept. She may still need defending now she is awake.”
I nod, accepting the spear. I also have a blade at my belt, one I made myself and have kept the cutting edge sharp.
“I will not force her to return,” I say. “It may be a few sunsets before I can convince her that she is safe to travel with me.”
“Razhan will bring her back even if she fights him the whole way,” Karvin says, glancing off in the direction Razhan has taken.
“I know, and I would understand it, but it matters not. I will be the one to find her. I know it.”
Karvin does not question this, just nods. “Then go well, brother, and may Lina’s hand guide you.”
I tap my fist to my heartspace, then set off running into the forest.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Brooks
Iwake with a start and have to catch myself before I sit upright and crack my skull on the cave roof overhead. Instead, I stretch out tentatively, feeling for the edges of my space, as well as for aches and pains in my body. Despite the less than comfortable floor and the flight through the forest, I don’t feel bad at all.
Perhaps the berry juice I managed to swallow gave me a bit of a recovery boost.
The light coming in through the cave entrance is brighter now, and I crawl out to find the sun almost all the way risen. I go to the stream, scoop up some mouthfuls of water, then splash my face, washing off the sticky feeling of dried sweat and grime. The stream is flowing away from the base, which is good news for me. I can follow it to a river without taking myself back past the alien hostiles.
Although that descriptor doesn’t feel right, somehow, after my dream.
I can feel the echo of my dream alien’s hand on my face, the soft warmth of his fingers. I touch a hand to my cheek and find it flushed with heat. Embarrassment? Or some sort of reaction to the intensity of his words to me.
Your hurts are my hurts, your pains are my pains, just as your joys are my joys.
Even now, awake and alone, my heart flutters a little in my chest at the memory.
And I’m apparently utterly pathetic - to have conjured some guy who would treat me that way in my dreams. It’s all part of my subconscious, it has to come from me. Which means some part of me wants that, wants to find someone who could love me intensely that way. Only even in my most basic subconscious mind, I know that no human guy would ever look at a military tier woman that way. So I’ve imagined myself an alien.
I almost laugh, but any humour I might find in the ridiculousness of all this is soon swallowed by a rising sense of outrage.
The Military Tier Breeding Program.
That’s what my alien helped me to remember. What my subconscious was trying to tell me through his overtures of affection.
The memories come back in waves, each one more infuriating than the last. The invasive medical that no one would explain the purpose of - blood tests and swabs and intimate examinations, followed by a change in our daily pill regimen that left all of us feeling terrible. The headaches, the stomach cramps, the hot flushes and the raging mood swings, followed shortly by the first menstrual bleed of our lives.
An inconvenience to them when they wanted us training, on missions, so they got rid of it. But necessary to bring back now we weren’t soldiers anymore, but breeding stock.
The embarrassment, the feeling of betrayal by my own body, it all comes back to me now. How our superiors checked our bedding, our laundry, looking for signs of blood.
I was supposed to be a soldier, a member of the elite military tier. A defender of the peace and prosperity we enjoyed under Mercenia. The thing standing between the general populace and the insurgents who would take everything from them, given half a chance. There was honour, glory, even, in that life.
But I never stopped to consider where the next generation of military tier soldiers came from, where I came from. Nor why there were so few female soldiers in the upper ranks.
