Page 47 of Tharn's Hunt
His brows furrow slightly, as if he senses I'm teasing him but isn't quite sure how to respond.
"It's a compliment," I add, reaching up to pat his shoulder. "Dogs are the best."
He looks thoroughly confused now, but there's a softness around his eyes. As if he knows I'm not mocking him, even if he doesn't understand the words.
We walk in companionable silence for a while, the rhythmic crunch of sand beneath my feet oddly soothing.
It should be monotonous, this endless walking. But something about Tharn's presence makes it... not unpleasant. There's a comfort in having him nearby, in the steady cadence of his breathing, in the occasional rumble of satisfaction he makes when he spots something familiar on the horizon.
"So," I say, breaking the silence again, "on a scale of one to 'we're totally screwed,' how are we doing? Are we getting closer to Justine?"
He glances at me, then points toward what looks like a distant mountain range barely visible through the heat haze. His expression is reassuring, though I'm not sure if that's intentional or just my desperate need to find something positive in this situation.
"That's where we're headed?" I ask, following the line of his finger. "Where Justine is?"
His head snaps toward me at the name, pupils flaring.
"Jusss-teen," he repeats, the syllables rough and halting, like his tongue can’t quite shape itself around human sounds.
God. Just hearing her name in that gravelly voice makes my throat tighten.
I point to the mountains, then hold up my fingers one by one. "How. Many. Days?"
He stares at my hand, gaze shifting to the digits with intense focus. After a beat, he mirrors me—three fingers raised.
"Three days?" I guess, and he tilts his head back. "Okay. Three days. I can do that."
I can do that. The thought feels strange, unfamiliar. Since when am I the type of person who can trek across an alien desert for days on end? I'm Jacqui Parker. Perpetual follower, professional younger sister, queen of bad decisions.
And yet, here I am. Still walking. Still breathing. Still stubbornly refusing to die despite this planet's best efforts.
Maybe Justine isn't the only stubborn one in the family after all.
The thought brings a small smile to my lips. What would Justine think if she could see me now? Walking side by side with a golden alien warrior across an endless desert, surviving shadow creature attacks and devil manta rays, and blistering heat?
She probably wouldn't believe it. Hell, I barely believe it myself.
"Hey," I say, a sudden idea striking me. "Want to learn something fun?"
Tharn looks at me curiously.
"Human gestures," I explain. "Like... this."
I hold up my thumb in the universal sign for 'okay' or 'good job.' Tharn stares at it before hesitantly mimicking the gesture. His thumb is nearly twice the size of mine, tipped with a retracted claw that glints in the sunlight.
"Perfect!" I beam at him. "That means 'good' or 'I approve' or, you know, 'thanks for not letting me die horribly.'"
His lips twitch, almost a smile, and he repeats the gesture with more confidence.
"Now try this one," I say, raising my hand in a wave. "This is how humans say hello."
He copies me, his massive arm moving stiffly, the gesture somehow both regal and absurdly awkward on his large frame.
I can't help it—I laugh. Not a small chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me. When was the last time I laughed like this? Before the crash, certainly. Maybe even before we left Earth.
Tharn tilts his head, watching me with those intense amber-gold eyes. Then, to my surprise, he repeats the wave, this time with exaggerated awkwardness, his arm flailing slightly as if he's intentionally making it comical.
He's... joking with me?
