Page 17 of Alien Healer's Touch

Two kradax circled me, wedge-shaped heads lowered, communicating through subtle shifts in posture. My medical knowledge served me now—I knew exactly where to strike for maximum effect. The surgical blade flashed across the sensitive nasal membrane of the closer beast.

It reared back, screeching. The pack hesitated.

The kradax adapted to our tactics with frightening speed. When we tried to use the medicinal herbs to repel them, two circled downwind while the others maintained pressure from the front. They were learning, communicating through subtle movements I couldn't interpret but Kavan clearly recognized.

"They're calling for the rest of the pack," he warned, blue blood still seeping from his shoulder wound. "These are just the scouts."

That's when I noticed something unexpected. The kradax nearest our fallen pack—where we'd spilled medicinal compound—kept backing away, shaking its head as if clearing its senses.

"Kavan! The medicine!" I called, my translation stone flaring with the urgency in my voice.

He glanced where I pointed, understanding dawning. "The smell disrupts their sensory perception!"

I reached into my pack for the cloth-wrapped bundle of herbs and fungi we'd collected. The pungent aroma that seemed pleasant to us clearly affected the predators differently. I unwrapped it, holding it toward the closest kradax.

It recoiled violently, its scales rippling with what looked like pain. The others shifted nervously, a high-pitched chittering sound passing between them.

Kavan retrieved his own portion of medicine, wincing as the movement pulled at his wounded shoulder. We moved in tandem, herding the creatures with the scent they found offensive. Two tried to circle behind us, but Kavan anticipated the maneuver, flinging a handful of crushed herbs directly into their sensory nodes.

The kradax writhed, snapping at the air, before finally breaking formation. The largest—clearly the pack leader—made one final lunge at Kavan, jaws snapping inches from his throat before my blade found the junction between its armor plates. The blade sank deep, severing connections to its central nervous system. It collapsed, twitching, as the others retreated into the undergrowth.

The forest fell silent except for our ragged breathing.

I turned to Kavan, triumph surging through me—and froze. The wound was worse than I'd first thought. Blood darkened the emerald skin of his shoulder and back, a deep laceration running from his collarbone to mid-spine. The kradax's teeth had torn through muscle, exposing the pulsing gold of his lifelines beneath.

"You're seriously injured." I moved toward him, my medical training taking over.

"It appears one of them was more determined than anticipated," he replied with remarkable composure considering the severity of the wound.

"Sit. Now." I guided him to a fallen log, assessing the damage. The bite had narrowly missed major vessels but had shredded tissue that would need immediate attention. "This needs treatment right away."

He nodded, sitting with his back to me, a tremor running through his powerful frame—the first sign that his calm demeanor masked significant pain.

"I believe I saw a stream nearby," he said, his voice steady despite everything. "Clean water would be beneficial."

I located the stream, filling the small container from my medical kit. Returning to Kavan, I cleaned the wound carefully, my fingers steady from years of surgical practice. The bite was deep, with jagged edges characteristic of predator attacks—designed to tear flesh rather than create clean cuts.

"This will need proper closure. I have sutures, but minimal anesthetic."

"Nyxari tolerate pain differently than humans," he assured me, though I noticed the tightness around his eyes. "And we heal rapidly with proper treatment."

I applied antiseptic compound from my kit, then prepared the suture needle. As I worked, something unexpected happened. My silver markings began to glow, faint at first, then brighter, particularly around my hands where they touched his wounded skin.

More surprising, his golden lifelines responded, pulsing beneath my fingers near the wound edges. Heat spread through my palms, a tingling sensation unlike anything I'd experienced before. The damaged tissues seemed to reach toward each other under my touch.

"What's happening?" I whispered, watching as the wound edges drew together more cleanly than my sutures alone could achieve.

"Your markings," Kavan murmured, his pain seemingly lessened. "They enhance healing. Combined with your medical technique..."

I continued stitching, amazed at how the tissue responded. The sutures guided the healing while energy flowed from my markings, accelerating the process. The bleeding stopped completely after the third stitch, and by the final suture, the wound's appearance had improved from potentially life-threatening to merely serious.

"This is remarkable," I said, my fingers lingering on his skin. "The combination of our methods is more effective than either alone."

Kavan turned slightly to meet my eyes, the golden color more vivid than usual against his paler-than-normal skin. "Perhaps this is why the ancients sent the markings. Not to replace, but to enhance."

My fingers traced the path of his lifelines where they branched across his shoulder, their golden glow pulsing beneath my touch. His skin felt warm, textured differently from human skin—smoother, with a faint luminescence in the fading light.

"Almost done," I murmured, though the wound needed little more attention. I applied a protective salve, then covered it with a light bandage.

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