Page 25 of Emerald

What an odd creature.

I should be looking at what zha is drawing, trying to decipher any meaning from it, but my gaze is more intent on zha instead. There's something… compelling about zha. Something that makes me want to keep looking, to understand.

The question that lingers in my mind, though, is the one that won't leave me alone: Why is there so much green?

I tilt my head, my bone-ridged brows knitting together as I give the creature a more appraising look. Green hair, green eyes… is zha that desperate for a zhannel? It makes no sense. How does zha intend to cater to a zhannel without so much as a hoard of treasure?

It's insanity, I think.Complete and utter insanity.

I should stop staring. I need to act. But what should I do? Zha is here now, and I need to make a decision. I decide it would be best to put zha deep in the cave, where zha can serve as the start of a new personal hoard. After all, I must admit, zha is beautiful—easily the best of anything I've ever hoarded. The thought sends a twinge of… something through me, a warm sensation that makes me feel embarrassed, my skin lighting up in brighter shades of blue.

I take a step closer, my feet dragging across the dusty cave floor, and suddenly I'm aware of how tusk-tied I feel. Why is this so difficult? Zha is just another addition to my hoard, and yet I'm struggling to find the right words. What does one say in a situation like this?

I realize, with a growing sense of anxiety, that I have no idea how to interact with zha. My species, the zhasie, are direct, and straightforward. But this creature… At first I thought the vivid green of zha's hair must mean zha is signaling for a mate, though of course I should have known better. I have met plenty of species that do not signal like a zhasie.

What is it about this creature that has me so confounded? The sounds coming from zha's mouth don't match. They're high-pitched, like a shriek, and they sound… annoyed. Not seeking or entreating.

I don't understand. I don't understand any of this. I take another step back, feeling overwhelmed by the confusion and the conflicting signals. Should I just put zha to sleep with a quick burst of gas from my sacs? That would at least give me some time to think. But I hesitate.

No, no. That would be too easy. Too cowardly. I can't resort to that. Not yet.

Instead, I turn and retreat farther into the cave, away from memories of the creature's high-pitched tirade. I’ve almost heard enough of the language to make sense of it.

Zha's mumbling voice follows me, but it fades as I move deeper into the shadows. I press my back against the cool stone and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. What am I supposed to do now? This is not how I imagined this going.

I only wanted the silver container. It would have been an excellent start. Not this.

Not this.

I peer around the edge of the rock, watching zha from a distance. Zha is still going, that strange little mouth moving and moving. The color of my skin shifts to a dark purple, a sign of my irritation. Why is zha like this? What does zha want from me? I've given zha space, I've brought zha somewhere safe—shouldn't zha be grateful?

I don't know why I expected that.

I would not be grateful.

I rattle my head, the tips of my head spikes drooping slightly. I've heard of creatures like this, ones that don't follow any logic I understand. Maybe I'm the one who's missing an important signal. Maybe there's something I'm not seeing.

I take a cautious step forward, my eyes narrowing as I try to make sense of zha's words. Zha's language is strange—there's no easy translation just yet, but I think I have enough words to be understood.

I pick up on the tone. Zha is… not pleased. I force myself to speak, even though my mouth feels dry. "You not want here?"

The creature pauses, looking up at me with those bright green eyes. There's a flicker of surprise there, I think, but then zha scowls. "Not want? What does thateven mean? Youtookme! Youtookmeaway from Rin!"

I can't understand half of what zha is saying, but I pick up on the tone, the anger. My skin shifts to a deeper shade of purple. "Zha… bad," I say, trying to convey my meaning with a growl. How much I don’t want the green one to return to the white one. "Not… safe."

"Not safe?" zha echoes, the words sharp. "You thinkyou'resafe? You thinkthisis safe?"

I feel a flash of white—an amused glimmer along my skin—but it fades quickly. No, zha doesn't understand. I need to explain it better. "Here," I gesture to the cave around us, "better than… outside. Better than… zha."

Zha's eyes narrow. "So, what, you're keeping me as… what? A pet? Aprisoner?"

The words don't translate well, but I think I understand. I rattle my head, frustrated. I need more of the language’s words and I’m not gaining them fast enough to be persuasive. "Not pet. You… hoard. Mine. Keep hoard safe."

For a moment, there's silence. Then zha bursts into a sound I quickly realize is laughter—a sound so unexpected that it sends a shock through me. It’s low, just like the rest of zha’s language, but the cadence is the same. I stiffen, my skin flashing briefly blue in confusion.

Why is zha laughing?

"Hoard? Yours?" Zha's voice is incredulous. "You think… you think I'm just some… somethingyou can keep? There really is no escaping it, is there?Materialism existseverywhere."

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