Page 1 of Claimed By the Alien Barbarian

ground.

I’d stayed up in the tree for hours with fear gripping my heart. Years in the wilderness with my mom taught me that panic could get you killed faster than any monster, but we weren’t talking about raccoons here. These creatures could kill me with one swipe of a paw.

Seeing their purple hides and unworldly eyes only reinforced what I already knew. I was no longer on Earth, though I had no clue where I was dropped. I could only vaguely remember waking, finding myself lying in a narrow metal cylinder with my hiking pack still strapped to my chest. I wore a thin white nightgown, something I scrambled out of, dressing in the thin pants and t-shirt I tugged from my pack the first moment I could.

Finally, the wolves slunk into the dense forest to seek easier prey.

The next day, I not only made a notch in the bark of the tree trunk to note my time in this wretched place, but I also gathered enough fallen wood to keep an enormous fire burning through the night. The fire served a dual purpose. I could cook the fish I caught in the nearby river and roast the roots I dug on the bank, and the fire provided comfort and protection. When the beasts returned that night, salivating when they saw me standing on the ground rather than fleeing up the tree, I shot my newly crafted fire-tipped arrows at them, scoring a hit on each one.

They took off and hadn’t come back since.

On the evening of my fifth day on this unknown planet, I sat by my fire as usual, trying to figure out what my long-term strategy should be. With the tip of a charred stick, I turned my fish over on the rock where it sizzled and draped it with leaves I’dpicked after I determined they were edible. A poke with my stick told me my roots had nearly cooked through.

My belly rumbled in anticipation.

A woman could survive quite easily in the woods on her own when her mom taught her how to hunt, trap, fish, and determine what plants might cause harm. One bout with diarrhea told me the dark purple leaves growing on bushes along the bank of the river might be perfect for the huge, deer-like creatures I saw eating them, but they didn’t suite human digestion.

Fortunately, I hadn’t experienced anything worse after taking careful samples of the other plants and tubers in the area.

As I gobbled down my meal, the tiny groundhog-like creature I’d named Molly crept from the thick thornbushes growing along the side of the tiny meadow I now called home. About two feet away from me, she sat up on her haunches and watched, her whiskers twitching. When I ignored her like always, she came closer.

Mom would’ve killed her the first time she saw her. Roasted and eaten her with jaw-snapping pleasure. But I’d not only brought a pack with me from Earth, but my loneliness had also come with me. How could I kill my only friend?

After she waddled over to stand near my left thigh, I tossed her a chunk of fish. She snatched it from the air and held it with both front paws, cooing before gobbling it down quickly, her inch-long fangs glowing in the firelight. She was a vicious little thing, as I’d discovered when she stole my fish on my second night here. I’d yelped and given chase, and damn if she hadn’t whirled around and stood her ground. My fish might be awkward to carry, but she was willing to fight to the death to keep it.

When I reached toward her to snatch it back, she bared her fangs and her claws snapped out. I nearly lost a finger. Shescampered into the bushes with my meal, and the next day, I caught an extra.

Each night since, I’d fed her, and she was slowly coming closer. Last night, she’d flopped on the ground beside my leg, and I’d stroked a fingertip down her spine while she grunted and wiggled in pleasure.

“Have some root,” I said, tossing her a chunk. “It reminds me of potatoes.”

I missed potatoes with sour cream, lots of butter, and chives. Shampoo. Someone to talk to.

I missed a lot of things from Earth, actually.

Today, I’d resigned myself to the fact that I might be stuck on this lonely planet forever.

Molly caught the next piece I tossed her and held it close, watching me with her big purple eyes as she took a bite and chewed.

“If I hadn’t been backpacking on the Appalachian Trail, I might not be here right now,” I told her. “Can you imagine that? You’d be foraging for bugs, I suppose. And I’d be sitting in my living room with only my TV for company. Instead, look at us. We’re having a conversation and sharing a meal.” My slightly feral grin rose. “It almost makes it worth being kidnapped by robocops.”

Her eyes as lavender as the forest around us glistened in the firelight, and she cocked her head as if she truly understood what I was saying.

I often spoke to myself, a great comfort to a kid who grew up an only child with a mom who was gone more often than she was home.

Traveling, she’d say.

I’ll be back before you miss me, she’d add while ruffling my hair.

She’d disappear for weeks at a time—leaving me with someone called Aunt Betty, though she wasn’t my aunt. Betty had a sharp gaze, and she carried a gun at all times, just like my mom.

It was only when Mom’s ashes appeared on my doorstep a few days after she left for her latest “vacation” that I learned she’d worked as a highly classified agent. Those journeys to Italy and Spain and the Caribbean had actually been taken to unknown locations.

The state department is sorry to inform you of your mother’s death,the letter that came with her ashes said.May the enclosed check bring you comfort in this time of sorrow.

I was twenty-four at the time, and all I wanted was my mom, not money.

“How did I wind up here, you ask?” I said to Molly while her whiskers continued to twitch. “There I was on the trail, about to set up camp for the night near Rangeley.” Molly watched me raptly. “To my amazement, two robocops appeared on the path ahead of me. What are robocops? They suck, but I’m sure you already know that.”

---