Page 29 of Dealing With Drak

“Mmm,” he rumbles, pleased with it. “I enjoy this one.”

Aprixians like Gatorade. Noted.

“It is refreshing,” he adds, taking a larger mouthful this time.

My cheeks feel achy, and I realize it’s because I’m smiling at him. Not hiding it behind my hands or biting my cheek to keep it from happening. I’m full-blown grinning at this man with absolutely no clue how to make it stop.

With that realization, I shift my gaze away from his face.

“We should keep looking,” I toss out, forcing my feet to move.

“Okay, Mean One, but this blue stuff is mine.”

Unable to hold back a breathy laugh, I shake my head and walk away.

This trip is something else.

11

Anna

4 Days Later

Drak and I have officially finished our city tour once over and have found nothing. Three different previously populated areas, and we have not a thing to show for it. Well, unless you count all of the things Drak has discovered along the way—like his love of sports drinks.

Without any real progress, I get more anxious every day that passes. I’m honestly already trying not to cry myself to sleep each night, and this project has just started. It feels hopeless even though I was realistic about this going into it.

The chances of finding my family in a city weren’t great to begin with, but it was the best place to start. Searching through the woods is going to be much harder, and it would have been nice to just run into them in the open. The woods may feel open, but it’s full of hidden possibilities. There could be traps, other people hiding around, animals… shit, I basically grew up in the woods, and I’m weary about it.

Drak, though, he seems excited. Every day I wake up to him still in high spirits, elated to explore “Urth” some more.

We’ve been in close quarters these past few days, not finding a place to sleep that I trust outside of the ship. Luckily, the seat is big enough to be pretty damn comfortable when I have to sleep. It’s like falling asleep in my grandpa’s old recliner. Probably not great for my back long term, but comfy enough for now.

It’s likely where I’ll continue to sleep since we’re heading for the more remote areas. I have a decent list of places that my brothers might go, but there are miles and miles of wilderness to comb through, and I don’t know if I’m ready to find nothing there as well. Drak is adamant that we look everywhere, so at least he’s determined.

His motivation will have to be enough to fuel the both of us.

“There,” I instruct, pointing at a small clearing in a sea of trees. “You can land there, and we can look around to decide if we should search here for a while.”

“I see,” Drak responds, shifting his hands on the small level controls, directing the spaceship with ease. “What did you call this place, An-nana?”

“It’s a campground,” I remind him, frowning at the ground below us. “Or at least, it used to be.”

“Hu-nims sleep in fabric here?”

I snort, shaking my head at his understanding of a tent. I mean, he’s technically not wrong. It is just some fabric and poles.

“Yes,” I answer, not correcting him. “I’m less worried about traps here, hunting wasn’t allowed when it was open. This was a family-friendly spot.”

Which is why my family may have come here. It’s not a desirable location for setting up a survival camp, and therefore it would be unlikely others would try the same. Plus, if you know your way around, there’s a lot that makes this place habitable. Berries along the mountain river’s edge, a lack of poisonous plants, birds and rabbits that can be killed for food, and a small population of deer that survive because it was forbidden to hunt them before.

Put all of that together with the fact that there’s a freshwater river close by along with old—nearly ancient—tall trees surrounding the area, and it would be a more than decent place to set up camp.

The landing goes smoothly, and Drak informs me that he doesn’t sense anything other than small animals. He does that without me even asking now like he knows it puts me at ease to know what we’re going into. What doesn’t put me at ease is how he has to help me in and out of the ship every single time.

I can feel his hands on my hips or my waist—wherever he holds me to pull me out—for hours after he’s let me go. Not to mention the ungodly way his scent clings to me every time we touch. I’ve found myself sniffing my sleeves unconsciously on multiple different occasions. It’s concerning, to say the least.

“Are you alright?” Drak asks, his eyes lasered in on my face.

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