Page 12 of Alien Barbarian's Little Human

“It seems we are fated to follow your lead, Gog. Hopefully, it will end better for us than it did for Der.”

The mention of the name Der hits Gog like a slap. His shoulders slump and his gaze drops.

Gog puts me on his shoulders again. This time I’m careful not to touch his horns. We walk for many h ours, until the sun peeks over the horizon and splashes golden light over the landscape. Harsh as this world is…at least this part of it…I do find it quite beautiful.

The sky is a particularly fine shade of blue, and the air has the crisp, fresh feeling that only a non-industrialized world has to offer.

We reach the oasis when the sun is just fully visible in the sky. The cool shade provided by the trees is a welcome respite. Gog and the blue Drokan excuse themselves, and return shortly after with several dog sized, furry mammal creatures tucked under their arms. Dead mammals. I guess they went to hunt.

The blue Drokan uses a crystal similar to the one Gog shoved into my ear to start a fire. He just points it at the kindling andit starts to smoke and smolder. I wonder what kind of tech that is? It seems like magic, but that can’t be right. There are many different ways to store and release energy in the galaxy. The crystals might have some natural property, or they could have been developed by the Drokan themselves.

It doesn’t matter what planet you’re from, grilled meat is grilled meat. My tummy growls as they roast the skinned carcasses over the fire. The blue skinned Drokan puts some kind of spices on the meat as it cooks, whistling softly to himself as he does so.

“Who is that?” I ask Gog in a whisper.

“That is Kul. He is skilled at meal preparation.”

“Actually,” Kul says, glancing up from the fire. “I’m more than just skilled. I’m an expert.”

“And he’s modest,” Reor says with a snort. “Don’t worry, when you find your jalshagaar, Kul, I’m sure she’ll smack that arrogance right out of your ass.”

“It’s not arrogance if you really are great,” Kul says while Talfa looks on in amusement. Except for their hostility toward Gog, I find these Drokan to be really easy to like. There’s an affection between them that their constant snarkiness belies.

When I taste the meat, I groan in satisfaction and look over at Kul.

“Kul, you’re not an expert. You’re a freaking artist. This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head. Despite his bluster, I can tell the praise means something to him. “Tell me, golden hair, do your people have a jalshagar tradition?”

I shake my head.

“Fated mates? Someone you were literally born to know and love? I’m afraid it’s mostly treated as superstition where I come from, though there are literally billions of people who would disagree.”

“Many, many, many?” Kul asks, tilting his head to the side. The translator has its limits. Apparently it can’t translate something the Drokan have no concept of. I wonder what kind of numerical system they have? As they have ten digits, much like a human, it’s probably a decagon system..

“Never mind, it’s not that important,” I say.

“It’s getting on toward midday,” Talfa says, looking up at the sky. “If we are to get any rest at all, I suggest we begin now.”

“I will take the first watch,” Kul says. “I need to tend the fire anyway, and make sure it goes out and does not damage this pristine example of Kro’s good works.”

Kro. Must be the name of their god, or one of them, at least. For some reason, that name sounds familiar.

Once the sun sets, we all rouse from our slumber. Or in my case, half slumber. I don’t know how they can sleep on the hard ground, much less in this heat. It doesn’t seem to bother them in the slightest.

Again we travel at night, the stars overhead lighting the way. I have not been to a world with no artificial lighting at night. The stars are amazing in their detail. I recognize none of them, of course, but that’s not terribly significant. Just hopping from one end of a galactic arm to the other can completely disrupt familiar constellations.

The sand dunes give way to a flat, dry plain dotted with occasionally scrubby growth. Some type of large herd animal moves in a line far to the north. One of them seems to stop and look our way before continuing along with the herd.

My Drokan escort grow restless. A succession of low, round hills rears up from the landscape. They lead me down a road cutting a meandering path through the mounds.

One of the hills bears a stone tower of remarkable symmetry. I gape at how the stones have been fit together neatly, withoutuse of mortar. Like the Incans on ancient Earth, the Drokan have learned how to manage in a harsh, arid environment.

I start when I realize there’s a Drokan mounted on top of the tower, bearing an unstrung bow. Talfa raises a fist toward him, and the sentry raises one back.

“It won’t be much longer now,” Gog says. Because his fellow Drokan seem to shun him, we wound up walking about ten paces behind them, in our own little group.

“Until what?”

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