Page 3 of Alien Hunter's Prize

Kavan assessed swiftly. "Exhaustion, severe dehydration, compound fracture... that leg won't bear weight for many cycles, even with accelerated healing. He needs immediate attention."

"The mountain groans... the Shardwings..." The youth's words connected instantly with my observations.

Erratic Shardwings, environmental stress, tremors—all centered west, where teachings placed the Aerie settlements. Confirmation. The disturbance extended further, into their hidden ranges. The seismic instability was widespread.

My gaze swept the crowd, landing on the small human female. I’d heard the other humans call her a strange name.

Jen.

Her focus on the fallen Aerie Kin was absolute, expression intense. Silver markings at her temples were visible. My tail gave an involuntary flick, as our eyes met briefly. Recognition? Determination? A shared witness to something significant. Then Lazrin issued orders, and the moment passed.

Guards lifted the injured Aerie Kin. Whispers followed—wonder, concern, speculation about "mountain groans."

To me, the meaning was clear: seismic instability, affecting Shardwing grounds. Not complex communication, but planetary shift.

I needed to report to the Council. My observations had new context, new urgency.

I noticed the human still watching the direction the youth was taken, expression thoughtful. What patterns did she think she heard, coaxed from her strange machines?

Despite my skepticism, her unique perception might offer a different angle.

I turned away, organizing my thoughts. Physical evidence must lead—scents, flora, flight paths, tremors. Facts.

But I found myself wondering if, this time, our differing approaches might be two paths to the same truth. The weight of potential contact with lost kin facing a crisis settled on me.

The Council would need every perspective.

The mountain spoke, and we had to listen—each in our own way.

JEN

The arrival of the Aerie Kin messenger left the settlement buzzing with a nervous energy that scraped against my overloaded senses even more than usual. Back in the relative quiet of my small quarters, the words echoed:Aerie... Shardwings... mountain groans...It fit. The patterns I'd been painstakingly mapping in the Shardwing calls, the growing static interference—it all pointed to distress, to something disrupting their environment from the west. My recordings suddenly felt less like a personal obsession and more like vital intelligence. Could the Council see it? Would they even listen to a human outsider whose primary contribution so far had been needing technological fixes?

Before I could spiral further into doubt, the door slid open. Mirelle stood there, her expression serious, the usual calm warmth in her eyes overlaid with urgency.

"Jen," she said, her voice pitched low but clear, cutting through the background hum. "The Council convenes immediately. The Elders wish to understand the full implications of the messenger's arrival and his warning."

I straightened, surprised. "Me? Why?"

"Rivera mentioned your work," Mirelle explained, stepping inside. "Your analysis of the Shardwing calls, your theories about patterns and distress. The messenger confirmed the Shardwings are central to this crisis. The Elders need every perspective, especially one focused on the calls themselves. Iros is presenting his physical findings, but your interpretation of the sounds could be crucial." She met my gaze directly. "Your unique perception might offer insights others miss. Will you come?"

My heart leaped. A chance. Not just to be heard, but potentially to contribute something vital. "Yes. Of course." I quickly gathered my salvaged holographic projector and the data chips containing my recordings and analyses. My hands trembled slightly, but determination firmed my resolve.

Mirelle led me through the settlement towards the Council Hall. The usual ambient noise seemed amplified by the collective tension, but I focused on my friend’s calm presence beside me, drawing strength from her quiet confidence.

The Council Hall itself hummed with a low vibration against my enhanced hearing. I stepped inside behind Mirelle, finding the Elders—Rylis, Shyla, and Veylan—already seated, their ancient faces impassive but attentive. Lazrin, Varek, Kavan, Rivera—all present. The air seemed dense with expectation. I was the human who heard too much, about to tell them they weren't hearing enough.

Mirelle gave me an encouraging nod before taking her place. My palms sweat as I moved to the center of the room and activated the salvaged holographic projector Rivera had helped me cobble together. Blue light flickered over attentive faces, the image wavering slightly at the edges.

"Thank you for allowing me to present my findings," I began, steadying my voice. "Over the past weeks, I've analyzed Shardwing calls, particularly from the western regions."

The first visualization appeared—shifting geometric shapes, colored waveforms.

"These aren't random cries," I continued, pointing to repeating sequences. "Look at the structure, the frequency modulation... It feels like a warning."

The visualization shifted, showing the pattern growing more urgent, distorted by jagged static interference.

Elder Veylan leaned forward. "Sound can be distorted by canyons, child. Patterns may be illusion."

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