Page 6 of Alokar
Ewok
Earth was more breathtaking than I had dared to imagine. Snow clung to jagged mountain peaks like delicate lace, while the forests sprawled in endless waves of emerald and jade. The air carried a clean, sharp fragrance—slightly astringent and invigorating—that my comm unit identified as emanating from towering trees called pines. Their needle-laden branches swayed in the breeze, releasing the distinctive scent with each movement. This part of Earth reminded me of my birth planet, Kerzak, but mercifully without the suffocating political machinations that kept me away. I would one day have to return and take the throne as king, but not yet.
During the descent, the shuttle traversed half the planet’s surface, revealing humanity’s unfortunate tendency to sacrifice natural splendor for progress. Vast swaths of wilderness had been carved away, replaced by cold expanses of steel, reflective glass towers, and endless concrete sprawl that seemed to pulse with artificial life.
I’d spent a few days getting my bearings, blending into the local culture and keeping my ear tuned for any whisper or rumor that might lead me to Yaard. It wasn’t until I’d stoppedat a ramshackle eatery and enjoyed an apéritif called acold beerthat I picked up on something that might lead me to my prey.
The fact that the human female was one of the most breathtakingly beautiful creatures I’d ever laid eyes on had absolutely nothing to do with me being out on the mist-shrouded mountain at dawn.
A couple of miles ahead, the rhythmic clomp-clomp-clomp of hooves against packed earth echoed in my ears—the rather elegant beast carrying the human female. A horse, I believed it was called. I pulled up the description on my comm unit, the holographic text flickering to life.
A large, four-legged mammal with a long head, neck, and tail. Horses are known for their strength, speed, and agility.
My Kerzak physiology would allow me to outpace the swift creature if circumstances demanded it, which bolstered my confidence in maintaining distance between myself and the small human. Discovery would complicate things, especially since I’d deactivated the cuddwisg unit hours ago. The static energy field that camouflaged my alien features made my fur itch unbearably.
I appreciated the clothing that Adtovar’s mate, Maddie, had fashioned for me using the fabric replicator. The soft, brushed flannel shirt, with a plaid pattern of deep red, black, and blue, felt luxurious against my skin. Its generous cut accommodated my broad shoulders and muscular torso without binding or pulling. The sturdy denim jeans, reinforced at the knees and tailored to my substantial frame, moved with me like a second skin. Most impressive was the leather footwear calledhiking boots—supple yet durable, with thick treaded soles that gripped the mountain paths with reassuring stability.
I carried a canvas backpack strapped across my shoulders, with olive-green fabric and matte bronze buckles. I’d purchased the utilitarian pack from an outdoor supply shop in the nearby mountain town, with shelves crammed with gear that seemed designed for humans who lacked survival instincts. The whole charade felt absurd—the forest provided everything needed to survive, from shelter to sustenance—but maintaining the illusion of humanity required such props. The pack’s weight was negligible, filled with human necessities like a sleeping bag, bottled water, energy bars, and a first aid kit that would be useless for my alien constitution, all carefully arranged to create the convincing facade of an earthling should anyone inspect my belongings.
The longer I could pretend to be human, perhaps the closer I could get to the female.
She captivated me in ways I struggled to comprehend. While human females were universally attractive by most standards, something about her triggered an inexplicable reaction deep within my chest—as though my internal organs had transformed into warm liquid. Her hair cascaded like a river of obsidian, darker than my mother’s chestnut locks, nearly as black as the void between stars. She wore it in a single, intricate braid that swayed hypnotically along her spine with each movement. Her skin possessed a warm bronze luminescence, rich and golden compared to my mother’s pale, peachy complexion. But her eyes—those extraordinary eyes—had stolen my breath entirely. They were the color of storm clouds, a brilliant gray that seemed to capture and reflect light like polished metal, even in the dim, smoky atmosphere of the tavern where I’d first glimpsed her. She dressed simply, in well-worn jeans that hugged her curves and sturdy hiking boots laced tight, paired with a soft plaid flannel shirt like mine that fell gracefully across her shoulders. Yet even these casual clothes seemed to transform on her perfect figure, the way the denim accentuated her long legs and the shirt's gentle drape highlighted her silhouette, making her look as elegant as if she were wearing the most expensive gown.
I convinced myself that the decision to follow her stemmed purely from the conversation I’d overheard. The citizens of Redmond discussed the tragic death of her father in hushed, reverent tones. While local news outlets attributed his demise to a grizzly bear attack. I feared a far more sinister truth. Visiting the site of her father’s death earlier, I caught Yaard’s scent—faint but unmistakably discernible to my enhanced olfactory senses. It marked the first and only trace I’d detected of the criminal since my arrival on the planet.
Perhaps the tiny human female possessed the tracking abilities she’d boasted about in the tavern, and I could combine her skills with my senses and finally corner my quarry. At least that’s what I told myself. Yet a deeper, more primal part acknowledged the real reason I shadowed her steps was an overwhelming compulsion to keep her from harm. Yaard lurked somewhere in these mountains, either as a corpse or a living threat, and the mere thought of the human female encounteringhim ignited a protective rage that burned through my veins like molten fire.
Most Kerzak males emerged from puberty and immediately plunged into a mating frenzy—violent, destructive, and utterly consuming. Fortunately, my brother George had helped me dampen that side effect of my rapid growth. While I readily acknowledged finding this female breathtaking, my urges remained manageable. My mission wasn’t a romantic pursuit. I’d come either to confirm Yaard’s death or deliver it to him myself.
Someday, I yearned to discover the profound, soul-deep love my adoptive parents shared. And if I allowed myself complete honesty, I couldn’t deny the vivid fantasies of what such a connection might feel like with the human female whose trail I now followed through the wilderness.
I found myself utterly absorbed in the pleasure of the ascent—the steady crunch of pine needles and fallen leaves beneath my feet. I finally understood Duke Ako’s affection for the footwear. My feet remained blissfully comfortable despite the increasingly treacherous terrain, the thick soles cushioning each step while the sturdy leather protected my ankles from jutting rocks and twisted roots.
Mostly, I allowed myself to enjoy her presence—the sweet, exotic spice of her scent that seemed to intensify with her exertion, mingling with the crisp mountain air and creating an almost narcotic effect on my heightened senses. Her voice carried on the breeze like music as she spoke in gentle, affectionate tones to her animals, treating the creatures as cherished companions rather than mere beasts of burden. Shemurmured encouragement during steep climbs, offered praise for their sure-footedness, and even shared what seemed to be private jokes that made her laugh—a sound so melodious it sent warmth cascading through my chest.
We traveled for hours, always climbing upward toward the mountain’s distant peak, our path winding through dense groves of pines and across sun-dappled meadows carpeted with wildflowers. The sun traced an arc overhead, transforming from the pale gold of morning into the deeper amber of mid-afternoon, casting shadows across the rocky path as we pressed steadily onward.
I came around a sharp bend, past a dense copse of thickly leaved trees whose foliage cast deep shadows along the trail. My head was swimming through half-formed plans, my senses completely overwhelmed by the female’s intoxicating, sweet, spicy scent that seemed to permeate every molecule of air around me.
“You fucking bastard, you killed my father.”
The venomous words sliced through the air like a blade. I jerked to an abrupt stop, my eyes going wide with shock and mortification. Thank the goddess my adoptive father wasn’t here to witness this monumentally epic blunder. I’d been so deeply lost in my own thoughts, so utterly distracted by the female, that I hadn’t noticed her scent growing nearer. She’d not only detected my presence—she’d been lying in wait for me.
To borrow a particularly colorful word, a few of the human females enjoyed using at times like this... fuck!
She stood in a classic marksman’s stance, her legs planted firmly apart for stability, holding a weapon aimed directly at mychest. A rudimentary but effective Earth munition called a rifle, its polished silver barrel gleaming in the sunlight. Her lovely face twisted into a scowl, her storm-gray eyes blazing with fury. Even in her rage, she remained the most breathtakingly beautiful female I’d ever encountered.
I took a cautious step backward, slowly raising both hands in what I hoped was a universally recognized gesture of surrender. It didn’t help in the slightest.
Her slender finger squeezed the trigger, the explosive shot reverberating through the trees like thunder, sending startled birds erupting from their perches in a cacophony of panicked wings and squawks.
I had to give her credit for her marksmanship skills. The bullet struck me squarely in the center of my chest. The impact felt bruising and decidedly bothersome but failed to penetrate. Kerzak had thick skin, especially in areas like our chest and torso—extra protection in battle—that could only be breached by the sharpest of blades.
Her grey eyes went impossibly wide, pupils dilating with shock as she witnessed me standing unfelled and unharmed. She cocked the lever mechanism again, bringing the barrel up, this time aiming directly at my face, her finger already twitching on the trigger.
But my reflexes were faster.
“Stop, female!” I bellowed, my voice echoing through the forest as I lunged forward, snatching the barrel and shoving it upward so that the second bullet flew harmlessly through the dense canopy, shredding leaves and bark in its wake.
