Page 100 of Ronan

Khuth’s tent looks bare when I’m done, so I scavenge the other sleeping quarters. Grabbing a sparesheet from one, an extra pillow from another, and a blanket from a third, I piece the room together. Blood stains the dirt in a few spots, so I pour a few bowls of water over the top and call it good.

Near the cage, there’s less to clean up since the rain washed away most of the evidence. Random weapons are strewn about, so I gather them in case Ronan wants to add to his collection. Once I’m satisfied that the signs of the massacre are gone, I examine the camp as though I’m arriving for the first time. It looks as though they just picked up and left one morning, with nothing here to suggest the brutality of their last night on this planet.

Satisfied, I head to the common areas to scavenge with Boomerang at my side. Shelf stable, ready to eat foods are an automatic grab, and I whoop when I find an entire crate of military MREs. There isn’t much else here worth taking, although I collect more soap, shampoo, and toothpaste from the shower house.

My nosiness gets the best of me, and I poke through the few personal items that belonged to the soldiers. A few pieces of jewelry magically slip into my pocket, as does a fistful of coins.

Dirt squares show where more tents recently stood, the dead earth telling me they’d been there for some time. If our timing had been off by a few days in either direction, the outcome of this adventure would’ve been very different.

Just as I’m about to turn around, I notice a tent near the tree line, far offset from the others. Against the forest, it’s nearly invisible.

Boomerang comes trotting over when I tap my leg with a quiet whistle, and together we walk over toinvestigate. The grass is healthier over here, telling me there wasn’t much foot traffic to this tent.

I push the flap aside and peek into the dim interior.

“Oh, fuck.”

Chapter 31

Ronan

“We have a problem,” Cameron blurts as he yanks the truck door open, not even giving me a chance to kill the engine.

“No, we absolutely don’t. I just took care of our problem, and it’s far too soon to have another. That’s a law of physics, I’m pretty sure.”

Stress and something akin to grief line his face as I sigh, slumping into the seat. “Ronan,” Cameron pleads, voice serious and eyes heavy.

My hands and clothes are caked in dirt, and my back is killing me after two hours of digging. A mass grave wasn’t on my bingo card for this week, but here we are.

“Fuck,” I grunt, climbing out of the truck and rubbing my temple. People from our side of the veil rarely get headaches, but if there was ever the time for a migraine, this might be it. “What is this problem?”

“It’s easier if I just show you.” He leads me through the camp, and I reluctantly follow. Giant flames roar in thefire pit as we pass, a table leg smoldering near the stone edge.

Cleanup duty went well, then.

Despite his somber warning, my curiosity is piqued as we move to the outskirts, approaching a small tent hidden in the tree line that I failed to notice before now. It hasn’t been maintained with the same diligence as the others, weeds growing along the sides and dirt caking the fabric walls.

Cameron reaches the entrance and stands aside, gesturing for me to enter. I frown at him as I push through the canvas flap and freeze with one foot inside the tent.

The smell almost knocks me back. A cage sits in the corner, identical to the one Cameron was locked in last night.

But it isn’t empty.

A small, thin monster with deep forest green skin huddles behind the bars, facing away from us. Long, tangled hair stretches down his back, a few shades darker than his skin, and riddled with knots. His clothes are so tattered, they’re barely more than strips of fabric, and his ribs are prominent lines of malnourishment underneath.

Even in this poor condition, I recognize him as a Drüinae, a race from our side that is deeply in tune with nature. They are gentle, preferring to spend their time working with plants and healing medicines.

“I tried to talk to him,” Cameron says quietly from outside the tent, “but I can’t tell if he was afraid of me or if he couldn’t understand me.” I nod, holding a hand up to stop him from entering, then take a few tentative steps towards the cage. The Drüinae’s pointed ears are perked up,aware of my presence even if he’s refusing to look in my direction.

“We mean you no harm,” I say, and his head turns away, his bone-thin arms hugging his legs to his chest. “We are not part of this camp.” When he doesn’t respond, I repeat myself in the common language of our side, and he finally looks at me. His enormous eyes are pale green, so light they are almost white, and his face is gaunt, barely more than bone with skin stretched over it.

“If you let me help you, I will get you out of there,” I continue in our language. “It might take me some time to find a key or tools that can cut through those bars.” He shivers as he hugs his legs again. “May I bring you food and water while I search?”

I force myself to be patient as I wait, and after a long stretch, he twists to glance at me, though his gaze flits away. He reminds me of a hummingbird, I realize… a hopeless, caged hummingbird who has lost his will to live. It ignites a new fit of rage at the thought of what these monsters must have done to him, and makes me want to dig their bodies up and kill them all over again.

“Gone?” His voice is nothing more than a dry whisper as he responds in our language.

“Dead.” His eyes snap up to mine as he searches for the lie. “All that were left are dead.” The focus in his gaze fades as he curls into himself, his mind having a hard time believing the truth in my words. “Will you allow me to help you?”

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