Page 9 of Alien Healer's Touch

Mirelle sat beside me, her movements carrying the subtle influence of time spent among the Nyxari. "You care for her."

It was not a question. I did not treat it as one.

The final bloom opened, and I harvested it with careful precision. "I respect her knowledge and dedication to healing."

"That's not what I meant." Mirelle smiled, an expression I'd come to recognize as human warmth rather than challenge. "I see the way you watch her when she works with your medicines. How you lean toward her voice when she speaks."

I packed away my tools, discomfort spreading through me. "She has much to teach us about human medicine."

"And I'm sure that's your only interest." Amusement colored her tone.

My hand paused, hovering over the sealed medicine pouch. The accuracy of her observation was... unsettling. "You speak of matters beyond your knowledge," I said, the formal words sounding inadequate even to my own ears as I finally sealed the pouch.

“Actually," Mirelle leaned against a tree trunk, "I probably understand better than most. I fought it too, at first. The connection with Lazrin."

This surprised me. They moved so naturally now, their bond evident to all. "You resisted your markings?"

"Fiercely." She traced the silver patterns on her forearm. "I was terrified of losing myself, of becoming something... other than human."

"And now?"

"Now I understand the hardest part isn't the physical differences," she met my eyes directly. "It's accepting a connection that goes deeper than anything humans typically experience. We're taught from childhood that our minds are private, singular. The idea of sharing thoughts, emotions so directly... it frightened me more than any predator on this planet."

I considered her words, watching the moons' slow progress across the night sky. "Selene does not share my thoughts."

"Not yet." Mirelle stood, brushing forest debris from her clothing. "But your markings respond to each other. I've seen it when you work together in the healing chambers."

I had noticed this—how my lifelines brightened when she drew near, how her silver markings pulsed in matched rhythm when our hands worked side by side. But such responses occurred between compatible healers, did they not?

Mirelle paused before departing. "She may need longer to accept what's happening between you. Humans are stubborn creatures, especially those who rely on science and evidence. But don't mistake her hesitation for disinterest."

I watched her disappear into the forest, returning to the human settlement through what must be a secret path. Her words lingered, feeding hopes I dared not examine closely.

The night deepened. Stars emerged above the canopy, constellations my people had named ages past. Still Selene did not emerge.

My concern grew with each passing hour. The settlement's lights dimmed in sections as humans sought rest, but the medical facility remained illuminated. Whatever battle raged within those walls kept her from seeking her own rest.

I could wait no longer.

From my healer's pouch, I extracted roots harvested earlier. When crushed and mixed with night-dew, they produced smoke that carried scents triggering primitive responses in most species.

I moved to the southern perimeter, where fewer guards patrolled, and prepared my mixture. The root paste smoldered when exposed to air, releasing a scent that mimicked territorial markings of Arenix's apex predators.

The reaction came swiftly. Guards shouted, weapons raised toward the phantom threat. Three broke from their positions to investigate.

My diversion worked. The path to Selene lay open.

As I prepared to cross the cleared ground, movement caught my eye. A solitary figure emerged from the medical facility, hurrying toward the forest with purpose.

Selene.

She moved with determination, though her steps faltered with exhaustion. Her shoulders slumped beneath invisible weight. Even from this distance, strain etched her features.

She spotted me as she reached the tree line, relief flooding her expression.

"Kavan," she whispered, glancing back to ensure no one followed. "I hoped you'd be here."

"I promised I would come. Your people seek to contain the marked females?"

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