Page 34 of An Alien for the Future

Pushing to my feet, I crawl from the structure, my focus going immediately to the lodge. All is quiet. Donna is still resting. All through the dark cycle, the faint glow of her light pierced through the darkness and I wondered what she might have been doing. This sol, I promised myself I’d find those zimi berries she seems to like so much. I know I saw an untouched bush nearby.

As I set off to find zimi berries in the surrounding area, I feel a glimmer of hope for the first time since my disastrous confession. She hasn’t said a word to me. But she hasn’t turned me away either. It won’t be easy, but I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. And Donna…she’s worth any hardship.

The constant glaring in my direction has softened, replaced by curious glances when she looks toward my camp. Her shoulders aren’t as tense when she’s working in the fields, and once, I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she discovered the freshly cut grass-feed I left for her animals.

It’s not much, but it’s progress. Slow and steady, like the coming of dawn after a long dark cycle.

I pause to pluck a handful of ripe zimi berries from a nearby bush, their sweet scent reminding me of Donna’s natural fragrance. Everything about this planet seems to echo her presence, from the rich soil beneath my feet to the vibrant sky above.

I have to hurry and I do so now. Gathering the berries and returning to the homestead. Climbing over the perimeter fence, I leave my offering by her door and hope for the best.

It’s a delicate balance, this. One I’m still learning to navigate. But with each passing sol, I feel more attuned to Donna’s rhythms, to the ebb and flow of her moods and needs.

Last sol, I noticed her struggling with a particularly stubborn patch of weeds near the outbuilding. It took every ounce of self-control not to rush in and help. Instead, I waited until she retired for the dark cycle, then spent half my sleeping time carefully clearing the area and preparing it for new plantings.

It’s the least I can do until she decides to let me in. Till we can at least talk about this. She’s mykahl, after all. My true mate. And even if she doesn’t know it yet, even if she never accepts it, she will always be mine.

I glance at her door before I force myself away and back to my camp. Is she still asleep? Or has she awakened, perhaps scrubbing herself in a warm bath before she faces the dawn.

The image of Donna washing sends an unexpected wave of heat through my body, and I shake my head to clear it. I head back to my camp before I do something stupid like linger too long and she finds me here outside her lodge. The last thing I want to do is erase my progress.

Hors pass and nothing. Sitting in my shelter, even my scales itch with the need to move about. To dosomething. But I must wait. Donna will come out soon.

More hors pass, and there’s no sign of her.

As the star begins to rise more fully, I begin to worry. Is she alright? Did something happen to her? The urge to go to the lodge, to seek her out and make sure she’s okay, is almost overwhelming.

But just as I’m about to give in to that urge, I see her. She’s exiting her lodge and is now walking across the field, carrying what looks like a pail of scraps. She looks…tired. Her gaze is downcast. Those fiery eyes that would at least acknowledge my presence don’t even glance my way now and her shoulders are slumped as if carrying a heavy burden.

My core-beat grows sluggish at the sight. Did I do this to her? Is her exhaustion a result of my presence here?

She dumps the scraps for the oogas then turns around.

Only then does she glance my way. “Morning, Tovan. Thanks for the berries.”

My core-beat stops.

Did she…did she just speak to me?

It’s the first direct interaction we’ve had since my confession and I think I might have imagined it. It’s so unexpected that I don’t respond, not realizing I’m standing there like a fool, just staring at her after shespoke to me!

But as I watch her retreating form, something nags at the back of my mind. There was something…off about her this sol.

I take a step forward, then stop myself. I want nothing more than to follow her, to make sure she’s alright, but I know I can’t push too hard. She’s only just acknowledged my presence again and humans, I’m realizing, are gentle things. One wrong move and it’s really over for me.

So I stay where I am, watching as she reaches her lodge and disappears inside. The door closes behind her with a soft thud, and silence descends once more over the homestead.

Silence that suddenly feels oppressive.

I try to busy myself—tending to my small camp, preparing a meal for myself—but my attention keeps drifting back to Donna’s lodge. Something isn’t right. I can feel it in my bones, in the very core of my being.

When another hor passes and there’s still no sign of her, no sound of movement from inside, no glimpse of her through the windows, my scales begin to prickle. It’s unlike her to stay indoors for so long, especially on a sol as fine as this. The grass-feed needs tending, the animals need care. Donna is nothing if not diligent about her responsibilities.

Just as I’m convincing myself that I’m overreacting, that she’s probably just catching up on some much-needed rest, I hear it. A crash from inside the lodge, followed by a pained groan.

My core-beat seizes. Donna.

I don’t hesitate. I drop everything and I’m sprinting across the field, my core-beat turning wild in my chest. All thoughts of respecting boundaries fly out of my head as I bound onto her porch.

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