Page 64 of Hooded

“She carries a Gryn in her belly,” he says easily.

I wrap my arm over my stomach.

“There is no Gryn on this ship,” I say, my hand sliding into my pocket and curling around the pulsar I have there.

“No Gryn,” Jay repeats as he looks over at the largest Gryn, the one he referred to as ‘guv’ and who has to be their leader.

“We detected a DNA signature…” he says.

“Must have been the youngling in her belly,” the dark Gryn standing next to Ayar says.

The leader narrows his eyes as his gaze rakes over me. “We’re looking for Gryn,” he says.

“Are you? How nice,” I respond.

“We are tasked with finding those stolen from our planet by Proto. Scattered among the galaxy, used as cannon fodder, slaves, gladiators, and more. We are to bring them home.”

He sets his wings. They all do. The action is so reminiscent of Klynn I can’t stop the lump rising in my throat or the tears which spring to my eyes.

“That is your mission?” I ask, pushing the words out. “You give me your word?”

“It is our mission, mistress.” The leader executes a low bow. “One we will continue to execute to the best of our ability until all the Gryn are returned to Ustokos, should they wish.”

“Then you’ll help me find him?”

The leader straightens. “Your Gryn?”

“Yes.”

“You have my word, little mistress, as the commander of the Elite. We will help find your mate.”

KLYNN

The planetoid I’ve been dumped on is desolate. The metal and crystal depression where I encountered Proto is the least worst aspect of the place.

There are signs it was not always this way, elements which could have been dwellings or civilization crumble in the gray dust which blows everywhere. There is little in the way of scents, presumably because there is simply nothing left of this place.

I swoop low over the landscape, putting as much distance between myself and the Proto as possible. As much as I’d like to destroy it, I’d prefer to get off this planetoid and back to my Fern. Whatever the creature has planned for me, I have no interest in assisting it. But I cannot leave without dealing with it.

I might have lost my identity as a Gryn during my time as a gladiator, but I know of Proto. The species which thought it could rule and found out that once the Gryn were free, no one would rule us. No one could repress us and no one could stop us.

Even an ancient Protoex. Especially an ancient Protoex. If it survived being banished from the planet of the Gryn, it will not survive any longer. I will see to it.

They said there was no way to kill a zigurex, but I’ve seen one killed. Everything dies. And it is the Protoex’s time to die. It will have attempted to capture its last Gryn.

A flash below me catches my eye. I swing around for another look. Above me comes a long low cackling sound, unpleasant in the extreme. I cast a quick glance and see a cohort of bots coming at me out of the gray gloom which passes for an atmosphere. They’re armed with weapons I’ve not seen before.

Below me, the flash winks green, stark against the gray. It hits one of the bots, turns red, and the thing explodes in such a way my feathers shake with excitement.

Makes flying a little interesting. And whatever is on the ground, it has the same ill intent as I do for the bots. Only it is armed. And where there are weapons is where I need to be.

I check my surroundings. The entire place is reminiscent of the landscaping often done in the dome. It makes what I have planned a little easier.

Beating hard, I lift myself up above the bots. They turn their attention from the ground below and back to me as I roar past them.

“Come on!” I snarl, swinging hard from left to right in order to make myself a harder target.

It doesn’t stop the bolts from their weapons searing over my skin, but none of them hit anything vital.

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