Page 57 of Hooded

There’s a snap in the forest, a twig breaking as a foot presses on it. I spin off the ledge and pull out the pulsar from my pocket, sending a silent thanks to the past version of Fern who thought it was a sensible place to keep the weapon. I might be really very pregnant but I’m not going down without a fight.

I watch through the struts which hold up the platform on which the nest is built until I see movement. Something is coming through the woods, circling the nest. Something which isn’t Klynn because there is no swish of feathers and his footsteps are heavy and purposeful.

Because he has nothing to be afraid of in the entire galaxy.

Keeping as low as my stomach will let me, I make my way around the nest to the front. As I get closer, I spot a dark shape standing near the entrance.

“Don’t move. I’m armed,” I say, straightening up and holding the pulsar steady.

At least until I see our visitor is a female Fenere.

“Fern?” she queries.

I furrow my brow. I’ve not met this female before. Not at the medi-center or in our infrequent visits to the local stores.

“Do I know you?” I query.

“No, you don’t. I’m so sorry.” She wrings her little paws together. “My mate shouldn’t have done what he did, and I wanted to come to you to explain.”

“Done what?” Lead settles in my feet, making it so I cannot move from my current spot.

“Lured your Gryn away.”

The lead sits in my stomach and hands, meaning I can no longer hold the pulsar up. It swings at my side instead.

“Where is Klynn?” It doesn’t sound like I’m saying the words. It’s as if they’re coming from someone else, far away.

“He didn’t mean it, but the Varangy, they said they would seed our clouds with crop destroying poison if we didn’t comply. My mate is weak. He believed them. I’m so sorry, Fern. They took your Gryn away.”

And in those words, my spirit dies.

KLYNN

There are no bars, no doors, nothing except the cold metal of the hold. I’ve dug my claws into every crack, levered the gladius until it bent out of shape, but there is no way out.

All the time, the hum of the engines tells me we are no longer on Fenes. Raging helped me forget what this meant for a while, but as much as I would like to, I cannot rage forever.

Slumped against the wall, my arms limp, my wings askew, I contemplate the folly which has brought me here.

My failure to understand anything about myself, about what it is to be Gryn.

My refusal to listen to the voice within me which said to stop, take a moment, to find out more. Not hide away from the rest of the galaxy.

The instinct to protect at all costs. I know better than that. I know how to lead. I know how to fight. My Fern deserved more. She deserved better than a Gryn who had deliberately eschewed everything he knew to be true because he felt nothing could be trusted.

Nothing except her. Myeregri. I had one goal, to be by her side, and I have not even managed that.

A slot slides out in the opposite wall to me, and something is shoved through. Almost immediately, on the wall to my left, a stream of water runs.

The Varangy are feeding and watering me. They want me alive. I contemplate whether I should acquiesce to their request, but allowing myself to get weak here is not an option. I have to get out. I have to get back to Fern.

I get to my feet, cupping my hands to catch the water, and scent it for any chemicals. It smells like tank water, not the best, but my constitution should cope. I rinse my feathers first before gulping down a few handfuls and then explore the other item shoved through the slot.

The slot entrance is inspected first. Shut tight. Even if I could get it open, I won’t fit. But it gives me hope there is a door here somewhere. As I dig a claw into the edges of the metal, a faint electrical pulse flows through me.

The door is here. Right here. I missed it in all my raging. There is a means of escape after all. I give the food I’ve been provided with a cursory glance. The water might not have been drugged, but the scraps I’ve been given most certainly are. The stench of paraxio emanating from it means the Varangy have no idea how to dose a Gryn. Or possibly no idea about the sensitivity of my nose. Either way, I will not be consuming it.

I give the food a flick into one of the corners of the room and bed down next to the door. The electrical system is buried deep within the structure, the pulses weak. It will take a while before I can tune into them.

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