Page 94 of Stranded with the Alien

As Vahn had predicted, the climate on this side of the hills was more tolerable than the desert area they’d landed in. The river level dropped but didn’t dry out, suggesting there were underground water sources capable of withstanding the drought.

They grew lean from the constant diet of protein and fruit, but not unhealthily so. They had both been physically fit before – now their muscles were stronger and more defined.

They spent a lot of their time hunting or gathering food. Kara taught herself to climb trees to reach the tastiest and juiciest fruit in the topmost branches, becoming limber and sure-footed in the process.

She lost the slight roundedness of her belly which she had always hated (and Vahn secretly adored.) Her hair grew long, reaching to the small of her back. She didn’t mind that, but she did get annoyed by her fingernails and resorted to biting the ends off when they got too jagged.

They tried to keep track of the days by carving notches onto the trunk of a tree. It became known as the Tree of Time; each morning the first one up would take the laser-blade and mark the new dawn. As the weeks passed the bark became more and more scored.

Sometime after the fourth month, Kara realized it must be close to her twenty-sixth birthday. Or maybe she’d already missed it, she wasn’t sure. Vahn was unfamiliar with the concept of celebrating birthdays.

“Vraxians do not have a specific date of birth,” he explained. “We consider ourselves born twice. Once from our mother and once from our father. We do not really mark our years once we reach maturity.”

“And when’s that?”

He touched the bony peak that segmented his forehead.

“We are no longer considered hatchlings when the ridges meet in the middle.”

“You aren’t born with that peak?”

“No. The crest is a sign of adulthood. It usually happens after nine Sol rotations.”

Kara knew that though the length of a day on Vraxos was similar to Earth’s twenty-four hours, a year was almost twice as long.

After much calculation, it transpired Vahn was thirty-four in Earth years but only seventeen on Vraxos. Kara found this hilarious.

“Sweet Jesus. You’re a baby.”

“Our ages are not dissimilar. Just measured differently.”

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a toy boy.”

“We will see who is the toy,” he growled. She squealed as he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her into the tent.

Weeks stretched into months. Kara and Vahn were seldom apart and yet they never grew tired of each other’s company. They could talk for hours about the most inconsequential things.

Vahn taught Kara how to swear in Vraxian and she taught him human slang. He began to use contractions more often so he didn't sound, in her words, 'like an android' – even thoughprivately he thought swapping words for apostrophes was ridiculous.

They sparred together almost every day. Vahn was reluctant at first but Kara wanted to improve her hand-to-hand combat.

“Come on, spill,” she asked teasingly. “What’s the best way to take down a Vraxian?”

“For someone as small as you? From fifty meters away with a blaster.”

“You know, on my world I’m considered reasonably tall and stocky.”

“You are no match for a Vraxian warrior. My serpetri alone can take you out long before you’re close enough to land a punch.”

“Okay, so I have to disable your serpetri. How do I do that?”

His eyes glinted in amusement.

“Ifyou can get close enough, it's possible to dislocate them.”

“Like a shoulder?”

“Exactly like a shoulder. It's attached with a secondary ball and socket joint, if you hit it hard enough from below you will succeed in dislodging it.”

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