Page 11 of Alokar
“I’ve got some bug spray if the mosquitoes are getting to you,” Hannah offered, noticing my discomfort. She rummaged through her saddlebags, eventually fishing out a small green canister. Seconds later, a fine mist of chemical repellent wafted through the air.
The only thing worse than enduring the constant irritation of the cuddwisg device was subjecting myself to the putrid, medicinal spray. Kerzak possessed the most sensitive olfactory senses in the known universe, and the harsh chemical scent assaulted me like a physical blow, making my eyes water and my nose burn. Yet despite every instinct screaming at me to refuse, I stood perfectly still and allowed her to spray the noxious mist over my skin and clothing. Why I submitted to such torture, I had no rational explanation—except for the growing realization that I would probably let Hannah do virtually anything she wanted to me.
We walked another hour or so through the deepening shadows until the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant strokes of amber and pink. The temperature had dropped with the approaching dusk, and when we came upon a small clearing nestled among the trees, Hannah suggested we make camp for the night.
“You didn’t bring a tent?” she asked, her eyebrows arching in surprise as she watched me unpack the sleeping bag from my canvas pack.
“I prefer sleeping under the stars,” I explained with a grin. Actually, the only reason I’d even bothered to purchase thesleeping bag was because I thought it might make me appear more human.
Hannah’s thoughtful gaze danced between me and the compact orange tent she erected, her movements sure and economical. Was she debating whether or not to ask me to share the cramped confines of the shelter with her? The possibility made something primal stir deep in my chest. Finally, with a faint smile, she turned away, carrying her well-worn backpack inside the tent. While the idea of sharing the intimate space with her made something inside me burn with an intensity that bordered on painful, I was perfectly content to sleep beneath the stars. Perhaps in the darkness of night, I could find a few precious moments to deactivate the cursed cuddwisg device and give my tormented skin some relief.
We divided up the tasks of establishing camp with an easy companionship that felt surprisingly natural. Hannah gathered dry kindling and fallen branches, her movements graceful and purposeful as she constructed a fire ring from smooth stones. I made my way to a nearby stream that gurgled and danced over moss-covered rocks, the water so clear and pure I could see every pebble on the bottom. Hannah had suggested something she called ready-to-eat dehydrated meals, holding up foil packets with contents that looked and smelled like nothing more than seasoned dirt. Thankfully, I’d detected a warren of small mammals nearby—rabbits, I believed—and returned to our campfire with three plump offerings, already skinned and dressed for dinner.
“Damn, you are a good hunter,” Hannah chuckled as I placed the rabbits on a flat stone near the fire’s edge, the radiant heat immediately making the meat sizzle and pop.
I could have easily consumed the flesh raw, but I knew humans found the practice revolting, so I gathered several sturdy branches and constructed a makeshift spit over the flames. Hannah placed the water I’d collected in a small aluminum pot, setting it to boil over the coals to eliminate what she calledamoebas. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already drunk from the stream, and the water was perfectly safe—at least for someone with my alien constitution.
As the sun vanished behind the jagged silhouette of the mountain, the evening breeze picked up strength, rustling through the evergreens with a sound like whispered secrets. The temperature dropped noticeably with the fading light, and Hannah settled herself near the fire, her back resting against the rough bark of a fallen log. She stretched out her legs toward the flames—long, slender limbs encased in worn denim that made something deep in my stomach flutter with an unfamiliar sensation.
“I love it here,” she sighed with deep contentment, her gray eyes reflecting the fire’s glow as she gazed toward where the sun had vanished behind the treetops in an explosive burst of crimson and gold.
“It is beautiful,” I agreed wholeheartedly, although I gazed not at the sunset but at the female beside me, whose face the firelight softened and who had a peaceful expression, like someone at home in the wilderness.
“When I was back in Seattle, dealing with my dad’s funeral and settling his affairs, I couldn’t see the stars through all the light pollution.” Her voice was low and contemplative, tinged with a melancholy that made my chest tighten. “The city just swallows them up, like they never existed at all.”
I couldn’t help but wonder how she would react to the vast expanse of space itself, where countless stars studded the infinite darkness.
“It is peaceful here,” I agreed, carefully turning the browning rabbits on the improvised spit before settling myself atop the fallen log where she leaned, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body.
Hannah glanced up at me through the shadows cast by the fire, and our eyes met and held. A moment so intense that even the forest hushed to witness it.
Hannah made a small, self-conscious coughing sound and awkwardly pulled her gaze from mine, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“You know about my parents,” she said, her voice slightly unsteady. “Tell me about yours.”
I sighed deeply, deciding to tell her the truth—or as close to it as I dared. “Like your father, my birth parents were killed by a creature no one suspected could be dangerous.”
“Oh, Ewok, I’m so sorry.” She reached out and laid her hand atop my knee. The heat from her touch seeming to sear straight through the thick denim of my jeans, branding my flesh with a fire that made my breath catch. The empathy shining in her gray eyes touched something deep within me, and a prickling, like low electricity, seeped along my veins.
“I was very young when it happened. I don’t really remember them,” I admitted, and some of the sadness in her expression lifted slightly at the revelation. “But two wonderful people adopted and loved me despite our... differences. I love them dearly, and along with my adopted brother George, I now have a baby sister named Jordan to cherish and protect as well.”
A smile bloomed across Hannah’s face, the warmth of the gesture reaching all the way to her eyes and making them sparkle—even as a single fat tear slipped silently down her cheek.
“I always wanted a sister,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “My dad was all I had in this world.” Her sigh was heavy and profound, echoing the mournful sound of wind through the pines. “God, I miss him so much it feels like I can’t breathe sometimes.”
Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to gather her into my arms, to draw her against my chest and hold her until her tears dried. But my Hannah was fiercely independent and proud, a warrior in her own right who would likely reject such comfort. Instead, I gently placed my larger hand over where hers rested on my knee, our fingers intertwining naturally, and we sat in companionable silence and watched the stars flicker in the night sky.
Chapter 6
Hannah
We’d been hiking for two days, following the ridgeline, staying in the deep forest where shadows hovered thick between the trees and most Bigfoot sightings occurred. The landscape offered sightings of every type of wildlife imaginable—including a small wolf pack taking down an elk, and a mother grizzly and her cubs, that thankfully didn’t notice our presence—but not a sign of Bigfoot.
Yet I didn’t count the hunt as a failure. Getting to know Ewok made the trip delightful. He was sweet, protective, and took such good care of me. Every night when we made camp, Ewok hunted, providing fresh meat and foraged vegetables for our supper. He was right. He was an excellent hunter.
Sometimes I’d catch myself watching him—well, not just sometimes, pretty much all the time—the way he tilted his head listening to sounds I couldn’t even detect, or the flare of his nostrils as he sniffed the air, his chest rising and falling as he processed scents using skills I admired as well as envied.
Every night, he slept outside my tent, always putting himself between me and the fire, positioning his bedroll in the area where danger might approach from the forest beyond. And every night there was a moment, when the fire had died toglowing embers and his breathing settled into the rhythm of near sleep, when I wanted to ask him to join me in the tent.
