Page 14 of Xara and the Xenobeast

CHAPTER NINE

Xara woke to a gentle tugging sensation at her scalp. Something warm and small nestled against her neck, making tiny suckling noises. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and reached up, fingers connecting with soft fur and a tiny body.

One of the alien babies had snuggled against her neck during the night and was now contentedly nibbling on her curls. Its lavender fur tickled her skin, and its silver markings pulsed with a gentle, soothing rhythm.

“Hey there, little one,” she whispered. “That’s not food.”

The pup squeaked and nuzzled closer, undeterred. She carefully extracted her hair from its mouth and sat up, wincing as pain shot through her injured leg. The other two pups were curled together at the foot of the bed, their markings synchronized in sleep.

A rich, savory aroma filled the cave, and her stomach growled in response. Strips of meat were smoking over the carefully banked fire. The meat was arranged with precision, clearly meant to be preserved rather than immediately consumed.

She glanced around the cave. No sign of her silent, intimidating host.

Why would he do this? Tend her wounds, feed her, protect her and these small creatures? Everything about him screamed predator, from his massive frame to those lethal claws and the way he moved—like violence held in perfect check. Yet here she was, alive and cared for.

The contradiction didn’t fit any model she understood.

She shifted to the edge of the bed, testing her weight on her injured leg. The moss bandage felt cool against her skin, and the pain, while still present, had dulled considerably.

The pup that had been nibbling her hair chirped in protest as she stood, clinging to her shoulder. She stroked its head absently as she limped toward the cave entrance, drawn by the fresh air and morning light.

At the mouth of the cave, she paused. The alien jungle sprawled before her in all its crimson glory, but something else caught her attention. In the distance, between the twisted trees and carnivorous vines, pinpricks of light flickered in distinct patterns.

She’d seen those flickering lights before but now she was even more convinced that they weren’t random bioluminescence. They were organized, deliberate.

Three short pulses, followed by two long ones. A pause. Another pattern, and then another, but eventually the cycle repeated.

“Something is creating those signals,” she murmured. The pup on her shoulder trilled in response, its markings flashing rapidly.

The scientist in her couldn’t ignore the implications. Patterns meant intelligence, and intelligence meant potential communication, perhaps even civilization.

She needed to investigate.

Returning to the cave, she found a sturdy branch near the fire pit that would be perfect for a makeshift crutch. She hobbled over to retrieve it, then paused to grab a strip of smoked meat. The rich flavor burst across her tongue as she took a bite, savoring the smoky taste.

“I’ll be back soon,” she told the two sleeping pups. The third chirped from her shoulder, clearly intending to accompany her.

Using the branch for support, she made her way back out of the cave, then hesitated. Perhaps it would be better to wait until her rescuer returned. Then again, she suspected he wouldn’t approve of her leaving the cave. The jungle looked safe enough in daylight and nothing had attacked her during her previous explorations. No doubt the real predators only come out at night, she thought optimistically as she marked her surroundings and set off into the forest.

Each step was a challenge, but the branch took enough weight off her injured leg to make progress possible. The pup clung to her shirt, occasionally making soft sounds that almost seemed encouraging.

The lights grew more distinct as she approached, still pulsing in their mesmerizing patterns.

“What are you?” she whispered, pushing aside a frond of crimson vegetation.

The jungle floor grew increasingly treacherous as she moved deeper. Roots twisted underfoot, and the vegetation seemed to shift and recoil from her touch. The makeshift crutch caught in the undergrowth, forcing her to tug it free repeatedly.

After twenty minutes of slow progress, sweat beaded on her forehead. Her leg throbbed, and her arms ached from supporting her weight. But the lights were closer now, just beyond the next tangle of vegetation.

She pushed forward, determined.

The branch caught again, more firmly this time. As she yanked it free, her injured leg buckled beneath her, and pain exploded up her thigh as she collapsed to the ground. The pup on her shoulder squealed in alarm, its markings flashing wildly.

She tried to stand, but her leg wouldn’t support her weight. The moss bandage had come loose in the fall, revealing angry red flesh beneath. The wound wasn’t healing as well as she’d thought.

“Damn it,” she muttered, dragging herself toward a nearby tree trunk. “So much for exploration.”

The pup leapt from her shoulder, landing on the ground with surprising grace. It faced the direction they’d come from and emitted a high-pitched series of squeals that made her wince.

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