Page 30 of Larz

I turned away from her probing eyes and stared out at the landscape that had become both home and battleground. “It’s difficult—to stand against one’s own for what one believes is right.”

She stepped closer until her shoulder brushed mine—an electric touch that spoke volumes in its quiet comfort.

“But is it worth it?” she asked softly.

I nodded once before finally meeting her eyes again. “It is worth it because it’s not just about survival anymore—it’s about living... truly living.”

Hailee reached out and took my hand—an act so simple yet so laden with meaning that it felt like an anchor in a churning sea.

“We’ll make them see—your people and mine—that we’re stronger together,” she declared with a determination that matched my own.

Standing there hand in hand, two figures cast against an uncertain world below us, we could clearly see that this was our first stand together. A pledge not just between two individuals but between two peoples with irrevocably intertwined fates.

Chapter

Thirteen

Hailee

The dust had barely settled when I noticed Larz’s figure moving swiftly among the fallen, his silver eyes scanning for life amidst the stillness. His hands, large and capable, lifted a wounded Zorvian from the ground with a gentleness that belied his warrior stature. The air, thick with the scent of burnt ozone and pain, made it hard to breathe, but we couldn’t stop—not when lives hung in the balance.

“Here, let me,” I said, crouching beside a young Zorvian whose breathing came in ragged gasps. The alien’s skin, usually a vibrant blue, had paled to an ashen hue.

Larz nodded and handed me a small vial filled with a luminescent liquid. “For the pain,” he instructed in his rough but increasingly familiar Earth English.

I uncorked the vial and let the wounded drink. The glow seemed to flow from the container into their body, casting an ethereallight on their face. Relief smoothed the creases of discomfort as they relaxed into unconsciousness.

“We need more bandages,” I called out to no one in particular.

A young Zorvian girl, no older than twelve in Earth years, darted forward with a bundle of cloth strips. She looked up at me with wide eyes that shimmered with unshed tears yet held a fierce determination. I gave her a reassuring smile and took the bandages from her trembling hands.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “You’re very brave.”

She nodded once and darted away to help others. Larz watched her go before returning his gaze to me. His eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, conveying words we didn’t have time to speak.

We worked side by side, moving from one injured person to another—human and Zorvian alike—our actions a silent dance of healing and hope. We cleaned wounds that told stories of bravery and sacrifice, wrapped sprains that spoke of desperate struggles, and offered comfort that whispered promises of peace.

As night fell on the moon’s surface, a cool breeze swept across the crater where we had set up an impromptu triage center. The conflict had ended hours ago, but its echoes remained in the moans of the injured and the quiet sobs of those mourning lost comrades.

Larz and I found ourselves alone for a moment as we organized medical supplies for those who would keep watch through the night. The chaos had subsided enough for us to catch our breaths, for us to look at each other not as healer and warrior but as Hailee and Larz.

He reached for a medkit just as I did; our hands brushed. We paused there, fingers entwined around the cold metal—a stark contrast to the warmth between us.

“I never thought,” he began, but trailed off as if searching for words that could carry the weight of his thoughts.

I squeezed his hand gently before letting go. “I know,” I whispered back.

We sat down on a large rock jutting out from the moon’s surface. The silence around us felt heavy—a blanket of stars above us bearing witness to our solitude.

“You’ve seen my world now,” Larz said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “Its beauty and its darkness.”

“And you’ve seen mine crumble,” I replied, feeling an ache for Earth stir within me. “But here we are—trying to mend what’s broken.”

He turned toward me; even in the dim light cast by distant stars, I could see conflict warring within him.

“Our feelings,” he started slowly, as if testing each word before giving it voice, “they are complex... like roots entangled deep within.”

“They are,” I agreed softly. Our eyes locked, sharing silent confessions that words cannot capture.

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