Page 36 of Willow and the Wraith

Willow simply nodded, and smiled up at him.

“Probably a good idea,” she agreed, then slipped out of bed to get dressed.

He watched her, stunned by her easy acceptance of the idea that not only would they continue to share a bed, but that their physical relationship would continue as well. He was still processing that when she smiled at him and left.

He finally climbed out of bed and pulled on his clothes and utility belt, moving with his usual efficiency despite his inner turmoil. He paused as he stepped out of the cabin. The idea of joining the others for breakfast felt foreign, almost uncomfortable. Yet, the memory of her warmth lingered, and he found himself stepping across the corridor and into the common area.

The galley hummed with activity as he entered. Sooni’s cheerful chatter mixed with the clinking of utensils and the sizzle of something cooking on the small stove. Willow turned, a smile lighting up her face as she saw him.

He settled into a seat and she placed a plate in front of him. Neither of the others seemed surprised by his presence. Malacar greeted him matter of factly, and Sooni beamed at him between mouthfuls.

As they ate, Malacar brought up the topic of supplies.

“I was thinking some additional equipment and materials might come in useful,” the elderly Ssst said, his eyes twinkling.

He’d never expected to trust someone else to work on his ship, but he’d been impressed by Malacar’s work while they traveled. They discussed the merits of various tools and parts, and he found the exchange oddly satisfying.

“We’ll see what’s available when we land,” he promised, finishing his meal.

Willow smiled up at him as he rose, ready to return to the familiar solitude of the cockpit.

But as he left the galley, he felt different. The… contentment that settled in his chest was unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome. For once, going to the cockpit didn’t feel like an escape to his refuge, but simply the next task in a day that had started… well.

Later that day he strode briskly through the bustling market outside Radlin’s spaceport, his senses on high alert. The usual cacophony of noise and scent surrounded him, but he automatically marked the exits and potential hazards, a skill born of necessity.

He spotted the booth he was looking for and headed straight towards it, ignoring the gaudy displays designed to draw customers in. He gave the shopkeeper a curt nod and began examining the tools and hardware laid out on the counters. Most of the items he and Malacar had decided on were available and the shopkeeper agreed to have them delivered within the hour.

As he moved on to negotiate with a gruff Zylaxian merchant for fresh produce, his thoughts drifted back to Willow. He could almost hear her excited gasp at the sight of the colorful stalls, imagine her eyes widening at the variety of people and merchandise from strange fruits to intricate crafts. A pang of regret hit him as he remembered her disappointed face when he’d refused her request to join him. It had been the right decision - he didn’t want to linger on Radlin and she would be sure to attract attention - but he found himself wishing she was with him nonetheless.

He shook off the thought, irritated by his own sentimentality. He arranged for the produce to be sent to his ship and moved on to the next vendor. As he haggled over the price of meat, he caught himself thinking that perhaps next time he could bring her along. Sooni too would enjoy the market…

The realization of what he was considering stopped him cold. There would be no next time. Soon, they would reach Farlain, and Willow would be gone. Sooni and Malacar would be gone. He would return to his solitary existence, as alone as he had always been.

The thought left an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, and he clenched his jaw, angry at how much the idea bothered him. He’d been alone for years, preferring it that way. Why should the prospect of returning to that life suddenly feel so… empty?

He was still frowning over the idea when he finished his shopping and made his way through the winding alleys leading away from the marketplace. The noise from the bustling shopping area faded as he entered a quieter district, his boots padding quietly over the stone cobbles of the narrow alley. He approached a nondescript door and rapped twice, paused, then three more times.

The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. He stepped inside, undeterred by the gloom. A lanky Zethinae lounged behind a cluttered desk, the subtle stripes covering his skin gleaming in the dim light.

“Wraith,” the other male drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you planet side.”

He nodded curtly.

“Drax. I need information.”

Drax leaned forward, interest gleaming in his multifaceted eyes.

“Always straight to business. What’s the topic?”

He hesitated for a moment. He and Drax had been, not friends exactly - he didn’t have friends - but acquaintances for a long time. The other male had helped him find jobs in the early days before he built his reputation and Wraith trusted him as much as he trusted anyone. He still had his doubts about drawing any attention to his mission, but he’d come here for information and if anyone had heard anything about the slave ring, it would be Drax. He had an astonishing array of contacts in every conceivable level of society.

“Human slave ring,” he said finally. “What have you heard?”

Drax’s wings twitched.

“Nasty business, that. Been some chatter lately. Word is it’s not your typical operation.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

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