Chapter 9 - Polly

And then there were two.

I stand there for a moment, hand raised to my brow as I squint up into the bright blue beyond the shaded canopy of this strange alien jungle. There was just no freaking way that I was going to let that bird-man fly me anywhere. Plus, I think, looking back to Aloryk only to find him already watching me, I can't leave the injured guy alone out here where God-knows-what could come along and try to rip his wings off again.

And what are you going to do about it if that does happen, Polly? Fight them off? What good would that do?

I tuck that particular thought away into the place in my brain where I store things I don't want to examine too closely. I imagine it to be a huge, locked chest - which is probably full-to-bursting by now. But, whatever - I'll just add another padlock and maybe shove something heavy on top of the lid.

It's then that I realize that now Tryk has gone, I'm all alone in the jungle with the guy who - when he was delirious with pain - had quite enthusiastically offered for me to sit on his face.

He's big, too. And has apparently decided I already belong to him, despite not getting some weird sparkly mating rash or something… whatever it was Tryk had explained to me earlier.

He's injured, but he's still strong. If he wanted to-

Aloryk smiles that damn dazzling smile at me and it catches me off guard, and for a moment - just a moment - I think it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to sit on that face after all.

I dismiss that thought quickly - but don't quite lock it away, instead flinging it haphazardly in the general direction of that stupid padlocked thought-trunk.

The truth of the matter is that Aloryk doesn't scare me. I take a breath and allow myself to really explore that. Yes, he's physically capable of overpowering me. Yes, he's a frickin' alien . And yes, he seems to have taken quite the shine to me since I woke up in that pod thing.

But he feels like a genuine person. A little naive maybe but… the guy endured his wings nearly getting ripped from his back while he was trying to protect me.

Letting out a long breath, I move to sit beside him, trying hard not to notice the way all his little skin-stars race from one side of his body to the one that is closer to me. They bunch and mingle frantically on his shoulder, bicep and one of the thickest thighs I've ever seen. Why have I not noticed that before? They're so firmly muscled I think the guy could crush walnuts between them.

Really, Polly? You questioned about being left alone with this guy and now you can't keep your eyes to yourself?

Clearing my throat, I feel a little flustered and annoyed with myself. I'll chalk it up to my long period of celibacy and give myself some grace. It's not like I've just woken up in my own bed on a normal Saturday after all. My mind flashes back to them - the other girls I saw trapped in the pods, and I'm hit with a wave of guilt again.

"Will they - your tribe - will they be able to rescue the others in the pods?" I ask the question while staring at the fire. It needs feeding, the flames are not as high as they once were. As if hearing my thoughts, I see Aloryk move to do just that at the peripheral of my vision.

"Yes," he says, sounding so sure. "High Spear Rynn will come with his finest Protectors, and they will be saved. I am only sorry it could not have been done sooner."

I don't tell him how that short flash of a view I saw of one of the trapped girls awakened a memory within me. One that I've had buried at the bottom of that padlocked trunk in my mind for so long. It doesn't really matter, though. It can't have been her . That would be absurd. But the mere disturbance of that dormant memory is unsettling in a way that has me thinking Aloryk can somehow see everything playing out on my face like an old movie flickering on a screen. Like he can hear how she'd wanted nothing to do with me all those years back then.

Aloryk watches me for a moment or two more before he comes to sit beside me again and opens his palm. There are a dozen little berries sitting in the center and I'm grateful for the distraction. "Are you hungry?" As if on cue, my stomach growls - loudly . Aloryk grins. "I will set some snares on our way to the river. Hopefully we will catch something to fill your belly."

I fight the urge to tell him that's not necessary, that I'm not hungry despite my stomach's loud protest. As a woman in a larger body, I have always had this hyper awareness around food. My mind can't help but go down certain alleys and lanes; alleys and lanes where I feel like I'm being watched around food - scrutinized even. Alleys and lanes where I couldn't possibly order anything but a salad, and I had better not eat it all. Oh! And I should definitely eat more slowly than those around me, because heaven forbid I'm the first one on the table to finish my meal. Even if no one says anything - even if no one has ever said anything directly to me about my eating habits, as a plus-sized woman, they don't need to. I can feel it. I'm a fat woman first, a person second.

I open my mouth to refuse Aloryk's offering of a few measly berries before thinking better of it. Instead, I say nothing and take only a couple of the berries, all too aware of how Aloryk is staring at me as I chew. But I'd better get used to this. I'm stranded on an alien planet and will need food for survival.

"Thank you for spitting on me earlier," I hear him say around his mouthful of fruit.

I swallow my own and almost choke. "Ew, don't phrase it like that!"

His grin doesn't falter, even as he chews, and it makes him look so adorably dorkish, it causes something to zing in my chest. I can't help but let out a small chuckle as I shake my head at him. You're going to be trouble , I think to myself.

A little later, the fire is beginning to die down again and Aloryk feels well enough for the trek to the river. I stay close as we trudge through all the weird alien undergrowth, surrounded by strange trees and strange noises. "Tell me about your life in your homelands, Polly," Aloryk asks after some time of silent trekking. Part of me wonders if he'd asked the question because he'd noticed how jumpy I was getting with our surroundings.

I'd normally brush something like this off with a quick ‘ oh, there's nothing much to tell ,' but right now, I'm grateful for the distraction. "I live alone in a gorgeous little one-bedroom apartment. My friend, Niska used to live in the same block, but she moved across the country for a man. I juggle a few different part-time and temporary jobs to make ends meet; coffee shops, bar work, retail hell, you know the type-"

I glance at him walking beside me and catch an expression on his face that confirms, no - he doesn't know the type. Poor guy probably doesn't have a clue what I'm yapping about.

He nods for me to continue before offering a steadying hand out to me as we maneuver over some particularly large tree roots.

"Anyway - I was saving up so I could afford this unpaid apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor. I guess that, and a lot of other future plans I had for myself are no longer happening."

"What plans did you have, my Polly?"

I side-eye the heck out of him for that possessive ‘ my ' he just ever so casually dropped in there, but decide to just skim right over it. "Oh, you know, build a career, move out of my hometown, become financially secure. That kind of thing."

He's quiet, quite clearly mulling all that over. His ‘skin-stars' as he calls them are all gathered at his temples, buzzing around like industrious little fireflies. I'm about to turn his question back around on him - ask him about his life here on this planet, but Aloryk abruptly stops walking and quickly grabs for me, dragging me behind his body as he lifts a crude spear he'd whittled back at our little camp.

After a tense moment or two of nothing but my loud breathing, and Aloryk scanning our surroundings, I dare to whisper, "what is it?"

Aloryk doesn't answer.

It's only then that I realize all the forest sounds have died, like all the little creatures are collectively holding their breath and even the plants don't dare rustle in the breeze.

It feels like my heart has stopped, but it jolts when we hear something. It comes from somewhere deep amongst the strange, alien jungle shrubs - and it's… it's my own voice echoed back to us. " What is it? " the jungle whispers in a voice so uncannily like mine, it causes an eruption of goosebumps to prick along my arms.

Aloryk's body stealthily drops a little lower, like a panther about to leap. " Mimyckah ," he snarls in a low, rumbling voice, and the strange word sounds like a threat itself, like a curse, like a deathly promise.

" Aloryk ," I reach out and put my hand on his back, feeling the muscles beneath coiled and ready, brimming full of violent energy despite his injury. It kind of makes me want to cling to him. Even in this state; with his wings all mangled up like that, and dealing with the awful amount of pain he's enduring - even with all that, he's a predator, a protector. It's clear in the way his tail flicks and the way he can hold the rest of himself so incredibly still, waiting for the most opportune moment to pounce.

And I'm just here, so, so grateful that this predator is on my side.

" Aloryk ." It wasn't me that spoke, but it was my voice - the same, small, afraid, cracked voice mimicked back to me.

Aloryk growls - like actually growls like an animal.

"I thought they didn't like the smell of us?" I ask, the question quivering in the charged air of this little corner of the jungle.

Something begins to step out from behind a giant, black tropical leaf with bright neon pink spots. It barely gets a foot out before Aloryk has launched his spear at the thing, propelling it backward with the force of his throw, and causing a pained-sounding yelp. Then Aloryk is gone - moving lightning quick, pouncing forward to leap on top of the injured creature before I even have the chance to take a breath.

The next thing I hear is a sickening crunch.

Somehow, the jungle is even more silent than it had been before, like all the noise had been sucked out and we're now in a vacuum, void of all sound. And yet, it's deafening in its own, strange way.

My eyes stay on Aloryk's back as he remains hunched over the now dead monster. His shoulders and lame, oddly angled wings rise and fall with each of his breaths. When he stands to face me, his chest and stomach are sprayed with blood. I don't notice that he'd thrown something aside until that weird silence gets dulled by a thud of that same something hitting the forest floor and rolling a little way after.

It had sounded like-

I blink at him before the words come flying from my open mouth. "Was that a head?"

He grunts in the affirmative and jerks a single nod to confirm.

A head.

He just ripped a monster's head clean from its body… with his bare hands.

I stare at those hands now - dirty and bloodied. They flex at his sides as if he can feel my scrutiny, my… awe? I don't really know what I'm feeling to be honest, I'm just glad - once again - that he's on my side.

I stare at his dirty chest as it expands and falls with each breath. His skin-stars are frantic with energy. And, even with the lop-sided wings, he is rather magnificent to look at. Magnificent, and deadly.

" Polly ," he murmurs, those pretty purple eyes fixed on me. He opens his mouth as if to say more, but shuts it again without another word.

We're quiet for the rest of the way to the river - and somehow it feels appropriate. I mean, can you really just launch into chit-chat when one of you has just ripped the head off an animal and the other stood there and watched?

Once we reach the river bank, I somehow feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief. We may still be surrounded by the alien jungle and alien creatures, but there's just something about the trickling sound of a river as it lazily meanders through the forest that goes some way to calm me.

While I watch the waters, Aloryk stands beside me. I can feel the weight of his gaze, the feeling making me a little twitchy. "Can we wash this stinky stuff off now?" I ask, turning to him, only to catch his eyes flying up to meet mine when he was so obviously observing something south of my face. Was he checking me out? Don't be stupid, Polly. "You know, since it doesn't seem to work anymore with that-" My words dry up, and I gesture lamely in the direction we came from, my gaze then dropping to where the mimyckah's blood has now dried in an artful splatter across Aloryk's taut stomach and chest.

He nods. "If the frightberry no longer serves its purpose, it will be good to get clean."

Relieved, I survey the river. It looks to be around waist deep, maybe a little deeper in places. I will need to take my pajamas off to really get clean, and the prospect of doing that in front of this supercharged, Greek God of a man is not an appealing one. Taking my clothes off in front of anybody has never been a comfortable experience, but it's all somehow amplified when that person has a body like Aloryk's.

"You can't watch me," I tell him outright.

He grunts, a small wave of skin-stars rippling with the slight jolt of a movement. "I will need to watch over you, my Polly. There may be dentixxi in these waters. They have shown interest in the human females. They dare not approach when a Trixikka is near."

Ok. While I don't know what a dentixxi is, if Aloryk is concerned about it, it can't be good. I look over the water longingly again. I really, really want to bathe. I want to wash away the last couple of days, maybe reset to when I was getting all cozy in my bed before I got taken and shoved in a pod - however long ago that was.

I eye Aloryk again. He stands there in nothing but a loincloth, all hard muscle and chiseled hip bones. I bet he doesn't see nudity the same way I do; a state I', not wholly comfortable in. I'm all pasty, lumpy, dumpy doughiness, decorated with stretch marks. And no one wants to see that. But Aloryk - well him and Tryk have been half-naked since I met them, so I guess it's not such a big deal to them.

"Just…" I take a breath. "Just don't peek on me like a pervert, ok?"