Page 4 of Larz

A knock at my door frame disrupted my thoughts.

“Elder Zorvix wishes to speak with you before you depart,” one of my fellow warriors informed me, his stance respectful yet urgent.

I followed him back through the winding pathways shrouded by towering flora until we reached the Elders’ canopy once more.

“Larz,” Elder Zorvix greeted me with a nod. Lines etched his face that told stories older than some civilizations beyond our stars. “Remember, your actions out there will reflect upon all Zorvians.”

“I am aware, Elder,” I replied. “I shall not engage unless engaged upon.”

“Good.” He clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes reflecting concern—or was it curiosity? “Our people have not interacted with outsiders for many cycles. This could mark a new chapter in our history.”

I felt the weight of his words settle upon me like a mantle.

“Our history is one of peace within these boundaries,” I said, gesturing to the surrounding forests. “But peace forged in isolation is untested.”

Elder Zorvix smiled faintly. “True enough. Be vigilant, Larz.”

With his blessing, I departed once more. The Elders trusted me to uphold our values—to protect not only our physical domain, but also the intangible essence of what made us Zorvian.

Night had fully descended by the time I reached the outskirts where wilderness met the open sky—a canvas now tainted by an alien craft somewhere beyond my line of sight. The terrain grew rugged underfoot; each step carried me further from everything familiar and deeper into uncertainty.

As I ventured forth under starlight and moon glow, every sense sharpened to its finest point. My heart kept time with the subtle rhythm of nature around me while my mind raced ahead—imagining who or what I might encounter.

Were these visitors friends or foes? Curious explorers or desperate refugees? Our historical texts spoke little of interstellar relations; we had long since abandoned any efforts at outreach after concluding that solitude was preferable to conflict.

The journey through night stretched long before me; yet as dawn approached and painted new hues across the horizon, anticipation coursed through me stronger than fatigue.

By first light, I stood upon a ridge overlooking a clearing where their vessel had made landfall—a craft unlike any structure on Oumtera, its lines sleek and unnatural against the backdrop of untamed wilderness.

I crouched low among the dewy ferns. The morning dew created glistening beads that caught stray sunbeams like tiny prisms—and observed from afar. There were movements—figures emerging from within the craft’s belly.

My pulse quickened at the sight; not out of fear but out of a recognition that history was unfolding before me—and I stood at its precipice.

Under the veil of a nascent dawn, I set out toward the crash site, the rhythm of my heart keeping time with each measured step. My path wove through the forest, a maze of shadows and whispers where light dallied with darkness, painting an ever-shifting tapestry beneath the canopy. My senses remained alert, every rustle of leaves and distant snap of twigs fueling the mix of caution and curiosity that drove me.

I approached the clearing with stealth, each footfall a silent testament to the years of honed instincts. The alien craft loomed before me, its contours strange and sleek against the organicchaos of my world. I crouched behind a thick-trunked tree, my eyes scanning for movement, for any sign of life.

The vessel’s hull bore scars from its violent descent, metal gashed open to reveal innards that sparked and fizzed. And there they were—figures, small and vulnerable in their exploration of this new world. I watched them fan out from their wounded ship like seedlings seeking sunlight. Their movements betrayed a hesitance, an uncertainty that mirrored my own.

I shifted closer, my armor melding with the foliage. One figure caught my attention—a female by her stature and gait. She wandered away from her companions, toward a stream that murmured tales only a native could understand. My grip tightened around my staff as she knelt by the water’s edge.

I weighed my options. Engage now or observe? The Elders’ words echoed in my mind: be vigilant. I watched.

Her fingers trailed in the water; droplets clung to her skin like morning dew on leaves. She seemed entranced by the simple act, a child discovering a new plaything.

“You find our water pleasing?” My voice cut through the silence before I could second-guess my decision to make contact.

She whirled around, surprise etching her features into a tapestry of fear and wonder. “Who’s there?” Her hand reached for something at her side—a weapon, perhaps.

“Peace,” I said as I stepped into view, hands open and away from my weapon to show I meant no harm.

She regarded me with wide eyes—eyes that had never seen blue skin or silver gaze before. “You speak English?”

“Our communicators decode languages swiftly,” I replied, gesturing to the device on my wrist. “Your presence here is... unexpected.”

She straightened up but didn’t step back—a sign of courage or foolishness? “I’m Hailee,” she offered tentatively.

“Larz,” I nodded in return.

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