Page 9 of Alokar
I threw a glance over my shoulder, taking in the sight of him standing exactly where I’d left him. Those massive arms were now folded across the broad expanse of his chest, the flannel stretching taut over bulging muscles. He hadn’t moved to follow me, hadn’t tried to close the distance or assert dominance. He just stood there, watching me with those pretty brown eyes. The bastard was right, and it irritated me more than a burr under a saddle.
“I shot it,” I reminded him, my voice defensive. My hands found Jubal’s familiar warmth, fingers trailing over the worn leather of his saddle. The motion was soothing, grounding, until my touch paused at the rifle scabbard. The metal felt coldbeneath my palm, and something deep in my gut twisted with wrongness at the thought of drawing my weapon on him.
“And you said it did nothing.” The soft crunch of his footsteps announced his approach, each step measured and unhurried. When he finally stopped beside me, his presence was like standing next to a living furnace—all heat and solid strength. He leaned closer, and suddenly the air was saturated with his scent: rich leather, the smoky burn of good whiskey, and something deeper, warmer, like the comforting crackle of a fire on a winter night. “I suspect what you’re hunting will be hard to kill.”
I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, curiosity warring with caution in my chest. There was something in the way he’d said those words, something that suggested knowledge rather than speculation. Those teddy bear eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch, and in their depths, I saw a light that made my pulse quicken with recognition.
He knew. Somehow, impossibly, he knew my secret.
“You know, don’t you?” The words escaped as barely more than a whisper, carried on the breeze like a confession I hadn’t meant to make.
“Know what?” Ewok’s response was casual, almost innocent, but the calculating look that flickered across his features betrayed him. Those brown eyes studied me with the focus of a predator assessing prey—or perhaps a kindred spirit recognizing another.
The truth hung between us, impossible to ignore. “You know I’m not after a grizzly.” I drew in a shaky breath, tasting pine and possibility on my tongue. The words that came next feltlike stepping off a cliff, not knowing if I’d find solid ground or empty air. “I’m after a Bigfoot.”
“Yes.” The single word fell from his lips with the weight of absolute certainty, those unwavering brown eyes never leaving my face.
Do you believe in Bigfoot?" Each word felt like a gamble, a roll of dice that could either bring me a companion who understood or confirm that I was just another crazy person chasing shadows in the wilderness.
Silence stretched between us. The breeze picked up, setting the pine boughs to whispering overhead as if nature itself leaned in to hear his answer. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a softness I hadn’t heard before, tinged with something that sounded almost like melancholy.
“I have come across many creatures in my life,” he said, each word carefully chosen, “some that many would find unbelievable.”
The admission hung in the air between us. But it wasn’t quite the answer I needed. “How can I trust you?” Even as I asked the question, the persistent voice in my gut was already shouting an answer.
One eyebrow arched upward, and the corner of his mouth quirked in what might have been amusement. “Well, I didn’t leave you lying in the dirt.”
“True.” The word came out grudgingly, but honest. Everything I’d been taught about survival, every cautionary tale about trusting strangers in the wilderness, screamed at me to walk away. But my father’s voice echoed loudest in my memory:Trust your gut, Hannah. It’ll never steer you wrong.And mygut was screaming now, drowning out every logical objection. I extended my hand toward him, the gesture feeling both natural and momentous. “My name is Hannah, Hannah Rainwater.”
He stared at my outstretched hand for a heartbeat, something unreadable flickering across his features. Then, instead of the handshake I’d expected, he took my hand in both of his, cradling it like something precious. His palms were warm and calloused, speaking of hard work and outdoor living. Where our skin touched, a faint electric spark seemed to kindle, sending unexpected heat racing up my arm.
“My name is Alokar Vey, but everyone calls me Ewok.”
Despite everything, I found myself grinning. “Your parents were Star Wars fans, huh?”
Confusion flickered across his features for just a moment, as if he was translating my words through some internal filter before he nodded with what seemed like relief. “Yes.”
“Well, Ewok,” I said, reluctantly extracting my hand from his grip and immediately missing the warmth of his touch. “If I let you tag along, I have only one rule.” I turned back to Jubal, making a show of checking over my saddle to hide the flush I felt creeping up my neck.
“What is it?” His voice held a note of genuine curiosity, and when I glanced back, I found him watching me with that same intense focus, head tilted slightly as if I were a puzzle he was trying to solve. That look made my thoughts scatter like startled birds, but there was one thing that remained crystal clear in my mind.
“When we find that bastard Bigfoot,” I said, my voice carrying all the rageand determination that had driven me up the mountain, “I get to kill it.”
Chapter 5
Ewok
The female was stubborn. I’d told her repeatedly to ride the big equine she called Jubal, but she refused, choosing instead to walk beside me. Jubal plodded behind her, his massive hooves creating a steady rhythm against the forest floor, copper coat gleaming in the sunlight. Meanwhile, Bertha—the cantankerous beast I’d offered to lead—was proving to be as ornery as a Kwado, her raucous braying repeatedly shattering the peacefulness as she voiced her displeasure at every root, rock, and shadow that crossed our path.
As we navigated the winding trail, Hannah told me about the wilderness we currently inhabited—the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Trees that Hannah called firs and cedars stretched toward the sky like pillars in Duke Ako’s great hall at the Citadel, their branches creating a thick canopy that filtered the afternoon light into flickering patterns on the moss-covered ground. At the moment, we headed up a small game trail where the snow-capped summit of Mount Shuksan gleamed like a beacon in the distance. Hannah told me that this area was where people reported the most Bigfoot sightings.
I remained vigilant as we walked, constantly scenting the air for any hint that Yaard lurked nearby. The mountains offered no hint of his presence. Instead, I found myself cataloging the rich offerings of local wildlife that called this forest home. The wet, musky scent of a wolf pack drifted from several miles away, their wild essence mixing with the earthy smell of damp soil and decomposing leaves. The strong, grassy aroma of elk and deer lingered near a meadow we’d passed a while ago, while the distinctive musky sweetness of a grizzly bear—close, but not near enough for worry—made my muscles tense with instinctive caution. Dozens of smaller mammals left their scent trails woven throughout the forest like invisible roadways.
But mostly, I just enjoyed Hannah’s scent. It was intoxicating—fresh and clean like morning dew, tinged with the sharp sweetness of pine needles and something indefinably warm that reminded me of sunshine breaking through storm clouds. It was as if she carried the very essence of this untamed wilderness in her pores, and I breathed deeper whenever the wind shifted her scent toward me. I liked it far more than I should have. I liked her for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, and that realization both thrilled and terrified me.
“Where are you from, Ewok?” Her question pierced through my wandering thoughts like an arrow, making my brain scramble for purchase. I knew the names of dozens of Earth cities thanks to my mother, but at the moment, with Hannah’s expectant gray eyes fixed on me, I couldn’t recall a single one of them.
“North,” was all I managed to say.
