Page 50 of My Alien Sunshine

“And he’s a high bird, like me!” Ellen squeals, swiftly returning to her cheerfulness. Child mood swings never cease to amaze me. “I like him. Can we stay here with Failin, Mama? I don’t want to go back to Master Drayth and Aunt Mu.”

I crouch in front of her, gently squeezing both of her shoulders. “We are never going back to Master Drayth. Never. I don’t know if we can stay here, but I promise we’ll never return to that place.” I won’t tell her that Drayth is dead, she wouldn’t understand anyway, but I need her to know that we’ll never live in such a dreadful situation again.

“Yippee!” she cheers, then freezes still, staring wide-eyed at the bed. “Mama? What is that?”

Panicked, I turn around, moving in front of her to protect her from danger. A relieved sigh escapes me when I notice she’s pointing at the strange creature I’d rescued from the Arcade.

In retrospect, I realize that touching an unfamiliar, scared, and wounded creature was exceptionally stupid of me. Even if it had been just an Earth dog it could have bitten me. A completely alien creature? I should be glad I didn’t lose my arm.

Since the furry creature has slept curled around my feet the whole night without biting them off, I think it’s safe to assume it’s not acutely dangerous. Still, I should probably find out more about it before letting Ellen play with it.

I finally have a chance to take a good look at it as it slithers from beneath the cover, watching us cautiously. Its dark fur is matted and tangled, caked with its purple blood. Two stripes of lighter fur run along the creature’s back, reminding me of an Earth skunk, but this animal is much leaner. It looks kind of like a lizard with three pairs of short legs. A furry lizard.

“You know, Ellen, I actually don’t know what it is,” I admit. At the sound of my voice, the creature cocks its head, its forked tongue darting out of its mouth. “It was injured and I brought it here with us.”

She watches the creature with unbidden fascination. “Can we keep it?”

I hesitate, not sure how I’m going to feed yet another hungry mouth with my nonexistent income. “I don’t know, chipmunk. First, we need to make sure it’s not dange—Ellen!”

Before I can stop her, my sweet little angel approaches the animal. “Hello,” she coos, extending her hand toward it. The furry lizard sniffs it. Clearly satisfied, it bumps its head against Ellen’s hand, requesting pets. “Look, Mama!” Ellen giggles. “He likes me! Please, please, please, can I keep him?”

“Ellen… We don’t even know what it is or what it can do. It could be dangerous.”

She completely ignores me, picking the animal up into her arms. “I’ll call you Fluffy,” she says, running her fingers through the creature’s tangled fur.

“We’re absolutely not calling it Fluffy!”

“Yes, we are.” My adorable daughter gives me an adorable pout and stomps her foot. “Look, he’s fluffy.”

It’s impossible to argue with that logic. With a resigned sigh, I capitulate. “Fine, we’ll call him Fluffy. But put him down, please.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to take off your clothes and take a shower. Actually, Fluffy,” I smirk over the stupid name, “could use a wash, too.”

Ellen’s eyes light up. “We’ll go together!”

Before I can say anything, she darts into the bathroom. I hurry after her, worried that the animal won’t like being shoved under a stream of water and might claw her face off. Displaying a surprising amount of intelligence and perhaps prior training, Fluffy jumps into the sink, headbutts the faucet, and lets out a low whine.

“He must be thirsty. Why don’t you turn on the water just a little bit so he can drink?” I suggest to Ellen, who eagerly rushes over to take care of her new pet. “We’ll have to find him something to eat, too.” So it doesn’t start eating us. I don’t add that out loud but it’s the most prevalent thought on my mind. I saw the creature’s sharp teeth.

“‘m ‘ungry too,” Ellen mumbles, standing on her tiptoes to reach the faucet to drink from it alongside Fluffy.

“I’ll figure something out, chipmunk. Now, take those wet clothes off so you don’t catch a cold.”

“How do you catch a cold?”

Chuckling, I run after her, pretending to chase her. “Like this!” We both laugh as I grab and tickle her. Fluffy tops it off by jumping on my head and nipping at my ear playfully. “Alright, alright, that’s enough.” I disentangle the animal from my hair and set it on the floor beside Ellen. “Shower. Now. Both of you.”

To my astonishment, Fluffy lets out something between a chirp and a bark and darts into the shower cubicle. It must have spent a lot of time in someone’s house, or he’s more intelligent than I thought. Probably both.

I set the water temperature for Ellen. She knows how to turn the water off and on, but I want to make sure she doesn’t scald herself. Fluffy chirps as the water starts falling on them and rubs himself against Ellen’s feet. “You can wash him,” I instruct her, seeing he clearly likes water. “But be very careful. He was hurt when I found him. It’s probably just scratches, but it still might anger him if you touch them.”

“Yes, Mama. Like this?” She runs the tip of her fingers down Fluffy’s back, barely even touching him.

“That’s perfect, chipmunk. Now turn around. I’ll wash your hair.”

Fortunately, the bathroom is stocked with basic supplies, so I shampoo Ellen’s wild curls, get her to rinse, then use some of the shampoo on Fluffy as well. He doesn’t protest, standing obediently as I scrub him clean. His blood turns the first round of lather purple, but the second one stays white. I conclude that his injuries have stopped bleeding.

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