Page 19 of Tharn's Hunt
Oh my God. He’s preparing it.
For me.
He separates meat from bone, extracting a pale strip of flesh, free of spines and skin, and holds it out to me.
The reverence of his offering is unmistakable. Like he's presenting me with the rarest delicacy, not a chunk of raw alien desert fish.
I stare at the glistening meat, then at him. His posture has changed. Back straight. Shoulders squared. Chin slightly raised.Pride. He's proud of this kill. He hunted this for me specifically, it seems.
"Um, thanks?" I say, reluctantly accepting the offering. Our fingers brush briefly, and that strange light phenomenon flickers beneath his skin before he jerks his hand back.
He watches with laser focus as I examine the meat. I sniff it cautiously. It smells... not terrible. Just raw.
My stomach rumbles, deciding for me. I take a small bite and chew. The texture is firm, almost like a very dense scallop. The taste is mild.
"Not bad," I admit, taking another bite.
The alien's eyes brighten. Literally. The amber-gold intensifies like the sun. He immediately returns to his butchering, carving more precise strips from the creature's back.
I point to the iridescent lizards. "What about those?"
He follows my gesture, then makes a dismissive motion with one hand, nudging them slightly away from the main spread.
"Not good?" I mime eating, then make a face, pointing at the lizards.
He hesitates, then reaches for one of the lizards. With swift precision, he slices into it, extracting a small portion of meat. He gestures to the manta-ray thing, then to the lizard, then back to the ray. His preference is clear.
"The ray is better?"
He just stares, and again, the focus in his gaze is so intense it feels like he’s burning thoughts into my brain.
"Right," I mutter. "You don't understand a word I'm saying."
Of course, he doesn't understand. He's an alien.
Not like the Xyma who came to Earth with their universal translators and diplomatic smiles. This is a wild alien on a wild planet. Different rules entirely.
Wait.Translator.
My hand flies to my ear, feeling for the small device that should be there. The universal translator the Xyma provided us before we arrived on this hellscape.
It's gone.
"Shit," I hiss, patting my pockets. My gaze lands on my handbag, lying discarded against the cave wall. I lunge for it, upending the contents onto the stone floor. An empty chicken biscuit packet falls out, followed by an empty water sachet. Evidence of how close to death I'd actually been when Goldilocks found me.
Then there. It hits the cave floor and rolls down to my boot. I reach for it like it’s gold.
“Please, God. I haven’t asked for much this whole time. All I ask is for this to work.” I push the thing into my ear, my gaze flying to the alien expectantly.
I’m not even sure how to turn it on. I give it a few taps before swallowing hard and looking at the alien again.
Of course, for it to work, he actually has to speak. Which he hasn’t done since he found me here. To be honest, I’m not sure hecanspeak. Maybe his species is mute. Or maybe just him.
I clear my throat, pointing to myself. "Jacqui." I tap my chest. "Jah-kee."
That glow that appears beneath his skin flickers now. He makes a soft sound—not quite a word, more like a rumble deep in his chest.
"Your turn," I prompt, pointing to him.
