Page 23 of Larz

“So what do we do?” The question hung between us like a challenge.

“We show them.” Larz pushed off from the tree and faced me squarely. “We show them that understanding is possible—that unity can be stronger than division.”

“But how?” Frustration edged my voice as I thought of the vast chasm of cultural differences and misgivings back at camp.

“By example.” He stepped closer, his towering form casting a gentle shadow over me. “We learn from each other; we share our stories and our strengths.”

I met his gaze, finding resolve in those silver pools. “We’ll need patience—lots of it.”

“Patience,” he echoed with a slight smile, “and perhaps something more.”

“Like what?”

“Empathy.” The word hung there, simple yet profound.

“Empathy,” I repeated softly. A simple concept on Earth, yet here it felt like a revelation—a bridge across the void.

“Yes.” He extended his hand toward me again, palm up—a gesture that had become familiar, yet still sent shivers down my spine.

I placed my hand on his, feeling the warmth of his blue skin against mine. His touch grounded me—reminded me that despite everything, we were not so different.

“You have shown great empathy already, Hailee Jenkins,” Larz said with quiet intensity. “You have sought to understand us when others would not.”

“And you’ve done the same.” I squeezed his hand gently.

“It is difficult,” he admitted, releasing my hand to fold his arms across his chest. “Sometimes I question if it is even possible to unite our people.”

“But you still try,” I pointed out.

He nodded slowly. “Yes, because what is life without effort? Without the belief that we can be better?”

I felt something shift within me—a settling of my spirit that had been restless since leaving Earth behind. Larz was right; effort defined us—our ability to strive for something greater than ourselves.

As we walked back toward camp in comfortable silence, I stole glances at him when he wasn’t looking—the set of his jaw when he was deep in thought or the way his hands moved with purpose and grace.

The camp came into view with its patchwork of human and Zorvian technology—a testament to our fledgling collaboration. People milled about, some still wary in their interactions, but others beginning to mingle and exchange words or gestures of friendship.

Larz paused at the edge of the camp, turning to face me once more. His silver eyes seemed to search mine, as if looking for an answer or perhaps confirmation of something unspoken between us.

“We are part of something momentous,” he said solemnly.

“We are,” I agreed quietly.

“And you?” He tilted his head slightly, as if seeing me anew. “How do you feel about all this?”

I considered the question—my journey from Earth’s last breaths to this alien world that was slowly becoming home; my unexpected bond with Larz; the challenges ahead that seemed insurmountable but somehow less daunting with him by my side.

“I feel...” The words came slowly as I searched for truth within myself. “Hopeful.”

His lips quirked up in an almost-smile—one that transformed his warrior’s demeanor into something gentler, more personal.

“That is a good feeling to have,” he said simply.

“Yeah.” My heart felt full as I returned his almost-smile with one of my own—an exchange so human it belied our extraterrestrial surroundings.

As Larz turned to join a group of Zorvians gathered around a holographic display, I watched him go—not just as an alien or a warrior, but as Larz: complex and noble; someone who challenged and changed me; someone who was becoming more than just part of this strange new world—he was becoming part of me, too.

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