Page 14 of Willow and the Wraith

“So, what’s your story?”

His hand paused mid-motion, hovering over a switch for a second before flicking it. He turned to her, studying her face. There was no condemnation there, just genuine curiosity.

“My story?” The words felt foreign on his tongue.

She nodded, her hazel eyes warm and inviting.

“Yeah, you know. Where you’re from, how you ended up as a bounty hunter, how you ended up… here.”

She gestured vaguely at the ship around them, and he turned back to the controls, buying time. No one had ever asked him that before. Other bounty hunters, his captives, even his employers - they all knew better than to pry. Yet here was this soft-spoken Earth female, casually inquiring about his past as if they were old friends catching up.

A past I don’t remember.

He opened his mouth to shut her down, to tell her it was none of her business, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the lack of judgment in her voice, or the way she looked at him - not as a ruthless bounty hunter, but as a person.

“I don’t remember my name,” he found himself saying, his voice low and gruff. “Wraith is only what they call me.”

She leaned forward, giving him a curious look. “They?”

His hands tightened on the controls. He’d already said more than he intended.

“Everyone,” he replied curtly, hoping to end the conversation.

But she wasn’t deterred.

“How long have you been doing this? Hunting people, I mean.”

“A long time.”

He waited for her to press further, to demand answers he wasn’t prepared to give, but the questions never came.

Instead, a comfortable silence settled between them. He found himself acutely aware of her presence, the soft sound of her breathing, the rustle of fabric as she shifted in her seat. It was… different. Unsettling, yet not entirely unwelcome.

He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was gazing out at the stars, her face serene, seemingly content to simply be. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sat with him like this, without fear or ulterior motives.

The ship’s recycled air carried her scent to him - the sweetness mixed with the lingering traces of her fear. He breathed it in, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the unusual sense of peace he felt in her presence. It also stirred something deep within, a long-forgotten feeling he couldn’t quite place.

He frowned out at the stars. What was he doing? He never allowed anyone in his space like this. Prisoners stayed in their cells. Clients kept their distance. Yet here he was, letting this Earth female sit beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He should tell her to leave, to go back to the holding cells with the other two. It was safer that way - for both of them. But the words died in his throat. Instead, he found himself relaxing, ever so slightly, into the unfamiliar comfort of companionship.

This wasn’t like him. He didn’t do companionship. He worked alone, kept to himself, focused on the job. So why was he acting so out of character now?

Before he could decide, Sooni’s voice piped up from behind them.

“I’m hungry. Do you have any food?”

He tensed, unexpectedly irritated by the interruption. He turned to find the little girl smiling at him, her eyes bright and expectant. His first instinct was to send her away. But something else rose up, unbidden - an urge to provide, to care for these unexpected passengers.

He clenched his jaw, fighting against the unfamiliar impulse.

“There are supplies in the galley,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “You may help yourselves.”

Willow stood, her warmth leaving the co-pilot’s chair.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Come on, Sooni. Let’s see what we can find.”

As their footsteps faded away, he exhaled slowly. What was wrong with him? Although he provided adequate food and water, he never concerned himself with the comfort of his prisoners. They were cargo, nothing more. Yet here he was, offering these three the free run of his ship, his supplies.

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