Page 32 of Alokar
“Not your fault, honey,” Hank said, his gravelly voice heavy with sorrow. He turned to look at her with paternal gentleness, but the sadness etched across his features transformed instantly into wide-eyed shock, his lips parting in a silent scream of terror.
Too late, I realized I’d forgotten to re-engage the cuddwisg device in the chaos.
Hank dove for his rifle, which lay abandoned on the ground nearby, his arthritic joints moving with surprising speed born of pure adrenaline. But before he could turn and bring the weapon to bear, Hannah was in front of me, her arms spread wide like a shield, her small body positioned protectively between us.
“Hank, stop!” she demanded, not the slightest tremor of hesitation in her voice. “Ewok is a friend.”
“Friend my ass,” Hank retorted, the rifle trembling violently in his blood-stained hands as he struggled to process what his eyes were telling him. “He’s a fucking Bigfoot.”
“No, he’s not,” Hannah declared, her fingers wrapping around the barrel of the rifle and forcing it downward. “He’s a Kerzak.”
“What the hell is a Kerzak?” Hank argued, his voice cracking with confusion as he tried to raise the weapon again, but my mate’s grip was strong. I remained perfectly still, every muscle locked in place, knowing that any sudden movement might escalate the situation and put Hannah in danger.
“Put the gun down, Hank, and I’ll tell you,” Hannah promised, her gray eyes blazing.
It took several tense minutes of coaxing, but Hannah finally convinced the old man to settle back onto his haunches, the rifle resting on the ground within easy reach but no longer pointed in my direction.
“Start talking,” he muttered, his wizened blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on my alien features, studying every detail of my face.
And we did.
Hannah told most of the story, while I filled in the more technical aspects of my origins and mission. By the time the sun’s morning rays broke over the jagged treetops, we had told Hank everything.
“An alien,” he snorted, picking absently at the dried blood crusted around his fingernails, his face a mask of incredulous acceptance. “No damn wonder nobody could ever find a Bigfoot—dead or alive.” He snorted again, this time with a hint of grudging amusement threading through his voice. “It was too dark to see, but I should have known something was up when you tackled that bear like you did—no human moves that fast or hits that hard.”
“I will protect Hannah, always,” I vowed, my large hand coming to rest on her shoulder, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of her shirt.
Hank studied me for a long, measuring moment, his keen gaze flickering between my face and where Hannah sat pressed against my side, her body language speaking volumes about her faith in me.
“I believe it,” he huffed finally, and slowly extended his hand toward me—blood-caked and trembling slightly, but unmistakably a gesture of acceptance. I carefully enveloped his smaller hand in mine, marveling at both the strength and fragility of human bones as we shook. The custom had alwaysseemed strange to me, but now I understood it was a sacred gesture of agreement and mutual respect.
Hank’s gaze flickered to where Rodney’s body lay motionless a few feet away, the gray pallor of death settling over his skin.
“We need to get him wrapped up. The scent of blood will draw more predators,” Hank muttered, rising to his feet with visible effort. I could hear the snap, crackle, and pop of his aging joints as he stood. “We can wrap him in his tent. I’ll go get it ready.” His eyes found Hannah’s face, softening with concern. “You take care of her.”
My mate was trembling—not from the crisp morning air, but from the way the human body reacts when the flood of adrenaline recedes, leaving exhaustion and shock in its wake. I’d seen this with my mother during our enslavement on the Gilese mining moon.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly, slipping my arm around her narrow waist and pulling her close.
Hannah turned to me with a heartbroken smile, her head pressing against my chest as her hands clutched desperately at my shoulders, seeking an anchor in the storm of her emotions. “The way Rodney died... it was so much... like my dad.” She lifted her head, gray eyes hazy with tears. “Was it? Was it Yaard?”
The vulnerability in her voice made something fierce and protective roar to life inside me. Stronger than anything I’d felt before. Suddenly, she wasn’t nearly close enough. I lifted her, settling Hannah in my lap, wrapping her tightly in my arms.
“All I scented was grizzly,” I said gently, deliberately refraining from mentioning the strangeness of the creature—theunnaturalness in its form, the overwhelming stench of decay. There would be time for those troubling details later, when her grief wasn’t so fresh and raw.
“I was so mean to Rodney,” Hannah whispered, swiping angrily at her cheeks as though the tears themselves offended her. “I was so hateful to him, and he....” Her voice broke on a sob that seemed to tear from the very depths of her soul. It took Hannah several minutes to compose herself enough to continue. “He saved me.”
I pulled her head to rest against my chest, my fingers threading through her silky hair. “Rodney proved he was a good male when it counted most,” I murmured against the crown of her head, breathing in her familiar scent. “We will honor him for that sacrifice.”
Hannah slipped her arms around my waist and held on tightly as she sobbed, her tears soaking through my shirt as I rocked her gently in the growing warmth of the morning sun.
Chapter 13
Hannah
Dawn broke through the canopy in pale, golden shafts as we cleared the camp, our movements heavy with sorrow as we fashioned a makeshift shroud for Rodney from the weathered canvas of his tent. Hank’s hands trembled slightly as he pulled out his SAT phone, the device crackling with static as he reported the grisly incident to the Redmond sheriff, who arranged to meet us at the Franklin Falls trailhead fifteen miles to the south.
Once we got the body wrapped in the crude burial cloth, Ewok dropped to his knees, his keen nose working methodically around the makeshift bier, ensuring there was no lingering scent of blood to draw scavengers.
