Page 6 of Primal Call

He wished he could offer them some reassurance, some glimmer of hope to cling to. But his throat felt clogged with bitter despair. What hope was there for any of them now?

His parents' faces flashed through his mind, unbidden. The proud look in their eyes when he'd told them he was joining the war effort. The reassurances that he was doing the right thing, that he was representing humanity, the pride shining in his father's eyes for the first time in — how long? Ever?

Tears burned at the corners of Jasper's eyes as he imagined their grief when they learned of his loss.

He would never see them again.

The notion settled over him like a leaden weight, stealing what little breath remained in his lungs.

This was it.

He would never go home.

Chapter three

Kyral's blood sang in his veins.

The beast darted back and forth, eight legs carrying it over the rocky ground, its scales glinting in the harsh light of Vasz's two suns. It was fast, faster than anything that size had a right to be.

But Kyral was faster.

He feinted left, and when the beast turned to follow, he spun on his heel and threw his spear. The weapon flew true, sinking deep into the beast's side.

It screeched, a high-pitched sound that set Kyral's teeth on edge. It spun to face him, blood dripping from its maw, and Kyral got a good look at the long, razor-sharp teeth that filled its jaws.

Before it could charge him, Zee came in fast and low, nipping at its heels. The beast spun, jaws snapping on the empty air where Zee had been.

Kyral threw again. His second spear flew through the air and embedded itself in the beast's neck. It let out a choked, gurgling sound, and then it collapsed, twitching, to the ground.

Kyral let out a breath, his heart still pounding. "Good girl."

Zee sat on her haunches, her six tails sweeping back and forth over the dusty ground. She panted, looking pleased with herself.

Kyral shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "You're going to get a big head one of these days, you know that?"

Zee hissed happily, her red and gold scales glowing in the light. She was the most beautiful zytha that Kyral had ever seen, and he'd seen plenty of them. None of the other hunters in Vasz's wilds had a beast quite like her.

But then, none of the other hunters were quite like Kyral, either.

Kyral felt a rush of satisfaction. Another successful hunt, a bounty from the nearest outpost ready to be claimed.

He turned to Zee, ready to call her, when a sudden, sharp pain lanced through his chest.

He gasped, doubling over as the wave of agony washed over him. It felt like someone had shoved a hot poker into his stomach and was slowly twisting it. His vision swam. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the pain.

This was no damage from the beast. This was the legacy of the war that still plagued him, even years after he'd returned to Vasz from the front lines.

The humans had unleashed a terrible weapon, a gene bomb that did damage to the DNA of any Borraq caught in the blast. For Kyral and the others afflicted, it meant a life of random, debilitating pain, striking without warning or mercy.

He'd been on the front lines when the bomb went off, fighting to defend his home world from the human invaders. The pain had nearly killed him then. It still threatened to do so every time it flared up, twisting his insides and leaving him a gasping, shuddering mess.

Time passed. Gradually, the worst of the attack faded away, though a dull ache lingered in his bones. Kyral sucked in a shaky breath, straightening up and looking around. Zee was there, pressed up against his leg, her golden eyes fixed on him.

Kyral reached down and stroked her scales, letting her warmth and solidity ground him. The pain was nothing new – he was a warrior, a hunter, and had endured far worse wounds in battle. But this was different, an invisible, insidious enemy that struck from within.

There was no besting it, no clawing his way to victory.

All he could do was endure.

---