Page 2 of An Alien for Her Heart

“A fine sol to get the job done. Greetings,” he says, before focusing on his work again.

I’m dismissed. My chin lifts and I keep the smile pasted on my face as I walk around the house and head toward the field. There, with my back turned to him, the smile slowly dies, a cloud of despondency threatening to follow in its wake. I roll my shoulders, closing my eyes for a moment as I breathe in the fresh air. When I open my eyes again, the field is right before me. Grass so tall I could get lost in it. And that’s the problem. I need to cut it down so I can start even a small vegetable garden or something. I’m not sure how I’ll do it. I expect the first set of crops will fail. And then the next. And probably the next, too. I’ve never grown anything to eat in my life. I’ll need time to figure this out and get things right.

If all else fails, I’ll figure out how to make money with the animals. I’m good with horses. Good in the stables. Though, my lips press into a thin line as I watch the oogas lazily graze, these animals are nothing like horses. More like cows. But itcan’t be that hard, right? I’ll just pinch the funds New Horizons sponsored me until I get a footing in all this.

Stepping into the grass, I use the massive scissors to part the tall strands. I soon end up at the small clearing I’m already making some progress in. An ooga is standing there, its ears perked at the sides of its large head.

“Hey, big guy,” I whisper. “Or girl.” I don’t quite know which. They don’t have visible udders even though the representative mentioned they can produce milk.

The animal ignores me and I shrug. “You too, huh.” Removing my shawl from my shoulders, I tie it over my head instead. “Is there some kind of ‘don’t talk to the human pact’ going on that I don’t know about?”

I ask this out loud even though I’d probably pee my pants if the ooga talked back to me. I grunt a laugh just thinking about it as I use the scissors like a crutch to lower myself to my knees. “My mother used to say, ‘Actions speak louder than words.’” I grunt again, glancing at the ooga who continues to ignore me. “Guess you’re a firm believer in that one, aren’t you?”

I chuckle as I settle fully on the ground. The position isn’t comfortable but it’s the only one I’ve found that gets me any real progress.

The first few snips of the grass are smooth. The scissors are so big they take a large chunk without a problem and I shuffle on my knees, snipping as I go. It’s therapeutic, but soon my knees begin to ache, the short blades of grass like little swords poking into my flesh, and the heat of the sun like it’s being amplified by a magnifying glass. I push on anyway, wiping sweat from my brow even as I worry that now that I’m on my knees, I mightn’t be able to get back up. I can already feel that ache that tells me my joints are locked and I’m not moving from this position anytime soon.

I might as well stay down here and continue working then. So I keep going. I cut the grass until my whole body protests. Until lifting the scissors becomes too strenuous. Until I’m too tired to even think about the past or anything else except the fact that I’m tired and should stop soon. And until I hear a snort and a bay up ahead.

The sound wouldn’t have bothered me if the grass didn’t rustle and the ooga’s baying didn’t get louder. I stop snipping to lift my head, a slight frown on my brow as I squint against the sun. But I can’t see far ahead through the tall grass. When there’s another snort, more baying sounds, and the ooga closest to me begins stomping its feet in place, I know something’s not right.

The oogas are usually silent. Hardly making a sound apart from their chewing and occasional release of flatulence. Otherwise, it’s almost like they don’t exist.

Grunting, it’s an effort to rise. I hiss, pulling a breath through my teeth as I force my muscles to work. It feels like my thighs have gone dead from being in the crouched position too long and it takes a few moments of standing and stomping in place before sensation returns. Still squinting underneath the pressure of the sun, I stretch one arm to part the grass before me. Not far ahead, a group of three oogas are gathered. Just seeing them like that makes my frown deepen.

They’re herd animals but still like their own space. It’s a contradiction that reminds me of humans. Usually, they walk slowly, just chewing and minding their own business, often ignoring each other. Now, their heads are lifted and they’re baying in unison with noses pointed skyward.

For a moment, I wonder if I’m the reason for their sudden behavior change. Did I disturb them with my unconventional methods of hay harvesting? It probably scared them to have a pale creature crawling low and cutting down their food. But no. Their attention isn’t on me. Looking over my shoulder back tothe cottage, I see the Raki on my roof is looking at the animals too. But then, like they’re not behaving strangely, he returns his attention to his work. That’s just the thing; he minds his own business. Even now, when evenIcan tell that something’s not right.

I want to holler at him, ask for his input, but he’s ignoring me once more. My lips press into a narrow line. I might not have much—lost everything when I was abducted from Earth—but I still have my pride.

I’ve been figuring things out on my own for a long time. I can figure this out, too.

Resting the scissors on the ground, I decide to venture closer to the animals to take a look. I can hear them stomping and the baying gets louder as I near the area of grass they’ve cleared with their grazing. Perhaps one of them is injured and they’re calling for help. Horses will sometimes do that, their whinnies turning frantic when one of their own is in distress. Even as I think it, I pray that’s not the case. I don’t think I could bear to see one of these magnificent creatures suffering. That’s when I see the reason for the oogas’ upset. The scene before me is not what I expected to find.

A group of small fluffy creatures are running circles around my oogas.

I stop short, not sure what they are or if I should venture any closer. They could be dangerous, but that’s a hard sell. They look like little pom poms bouncing around and it takes me a moment to notice they have feet underneath their little round bodies. They’re…cute.

“Um…” Cute, yes. But the oogas don’t like them. Or rather they don’t like the fact that the little creatures seem to be dancing around them. I turn my gaze back to the house and the Raki working there. He’s looking my way again but turns hishead back to his work the moment he senses me looking, as if he doesn’t want to engage.

Guess I’m all alone in this. Maybe if I leave the little fluffy creatures they’ll go away to wherever they came from. In the month I’ve been here, this is the first time I’m seeing these things. That must mean they’re just passing through.

But, again, that’s not the case. I wait for a few moments before realizing the oogas are only becoming more agitated. Taking off my shawl, I wave it like a flag to get the little fur monsters’ attention. Probably a bad idea if they’re dangerous, but they ignore me. As a matter of fact, they move faster, becoming little black blurs. I gasp when I feel movement around my legs. A host of them appear from the long grass to rush past me and join the fray. Where there were only five of them before, now there are at least twenty. They just keep coming out of the long grass like termites from rotten wood. My eyes widen as the oogas go ballistic, baying and dashing through the grass—one nearly mowing me down in the process. I’m momentarily stunned. I didn’t know the oogas could move that quickly. For Pete’s sake, I’d had to ride an ooga out to these plains and it never moved like that.

Fear spikes low in my chest and I have the sense to run. As fast as I can, I shriek as I head toward the house. I make it through the little gate separating the field from the main yard with an ooga on my tail. I shut it behind me hard, the entire fence vibrating with the force as my chest heaves, my lungs burning with the sudden exertion.

The ooga misses me by mere inches. The brush of air as it suddenly turns to stop itself from colliding into the gate makes tendrils of my hair blow backward from my face.

Those little furry animals… What in the blazes are those things?

The oogas are still going crazy and one runs straight into the perimeter fence. My heart goes into my throat as the entire thing seems to bend with the force of the animal. They are, after all, built like tanks. When another does the same thing, I know I have to stop them. I can’t have my perimeter fence going down. With no barn to hold them, that will only set all my animals free and invite God knows what in. Plus, who knows if I’d be able to herd them all back. My confidence in that respect is but a drop in a large empty bucket.

I stare at the growing chaos in shock. The peacefulness of the morning is gone, almost as if I’d imagined it.

Okay, Catherine. Figure this out. I square my shoulders, huffing a breath through my nose as I march around to the front of the cottage. The Raki sees me immediately.

“The animals are spooked.” I point to the field even though I know he saw everything and is very aware of my sudden plight. “Some little creatures have scared them. Do you know what they are or what I should do?”

---