26. Drasuk

26

Drasuk

The battle hormones begin to fade, and I settle into a state of watchfulness as Kira tends her wounds.

I've never hated the genali more than I do right now. I was just saved by a tiny creature as I failed to uphold my half of our agreement. A Maj'Ra can't simply stand by while someone else defends them.

It isn't done.

I'm just as shocked she isn't pointing out my failure as I am outraged by my impotence. She should be reaming me with all kinds of insults about cowardice. I know she has a creative insult for any possible occurrence.

I would have earned every one of them.

I'd feel a lot better if she did. This is far worse. Instead, she patched me up and thanked me, and now she's acting like nothing happened.

Like I didn't just put her life at risk because I couldn't fight, which makes me feel sick on a whole other level beyond self-reproach. Some foreign sort of fear I have never experienced that centers around needing her to remain with me.

What does it mean?

I don't know what to say now.

The hiss of the spray container fills the air as she applies it to her stomach, where the creature's spiked hair has embedded itself. She winces, but keeps working, determined and focused.

Suddenly, Kira lets out an battle-fueled laugh, a sharp and unexpected sound that startles me. I don't see what's so funny about barely surviving that fight, and I can't help but tilt my head in confusion.

"Strange pet," I mutter, more to myself than to her.

I'm desperately seeking some sort of normalcy, which apparently involves poking at her to see if she'll be mean to me again.

I'm disgusted with myself.

She bristles, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Since I can't get rid of you, you might as well stop calling me a pet and just call me Kira."

I rumble out a laugh, amused by her defiance, grasping on to it like it's my last hope. "Very well, Kira. Then you can stop calling me a fumbling fornicator and use my name, too."

She smirks, mischief in her eyes. "I'll think about it."

I scoff, then fall silent, the pain in my neck minimal now thanks to her ministrations. It didn't really need to be dressed, but I enjoy the feel of her hands on me, so I said nothing.

My mind shies away from that pleasure and what it might mean.

Once she's finished, Kira suggests we move out of the area and find a place to wash up. I agree, and we head deeper into the trees, leaving the divide between desert and forest behind us. The thick foliage provides some cover, and the air is cooler here, a welcome relief from the desert's oppressive heat.

We walk in relative silence for a short while, my ears pulsing as I listen more intently to avoid a repeat of the last encounter.

I'll need to kill something, preferably brutally, to get the foul taste of failure out of my mouth, but for now we should nurse our wounds and get our focus back.

The silence stretches on, punctuated only by the rhythmic crunch of our feet on the damp forest floor. The dense foliage overhead creates a dappled light, casting swirling shadows on the mossy ground.

I'm startled when she starts speaking again. "Your wound is already closing. Do draks really heal that fast?"

"Not naturally. We have excellent regeneration, but it's helped along by nanites."

She grunts. "Did they put those in me? Because I'm healing faster than normal."

I look over at her, reminded again of just how little she knows about the wider universe. "From the way you look, I would guess there are billions of them in you, doing things I didn't even know were possible. Plus, of course, your translator."

"Is that why my throat hurts like a fiery pit in the ground sometimes?"

"Yes. It's been used for millennia and has always been painful."

She mutters some more of her human curses but doesn't continue the conversation.

Flight-capable creatures call out to each other, and the rustling of leaves creates a soothing backdrop. The path we follow is uneven, the ground covered in roots and fallen branches, but it's manageable.

We descend into a small valley not far from from the forest's edge, the air thickening with humidity as we delve deeper into it.

Impatience niggles at me. The oppressive quiet is grating on my nerves. "I have to admit, Kira," I rumble, breaking the silence, "your fighting instincts are impressive."

She shoots me a sideways glance, a look etched on her face I haven't seen before. "Just my instincts, huh?" she snarks.

"There's finesse there," I concede, "a certain efficiency. Not what I'd expect from such a fragile creature."

There's a flash of movement as her hand darts out, the middle finger extended in what I assume must be an obscene gesture.

"What's that mean?"

Kira rolls her eyes, the exasperation evident. "Never mind," she mutters, shoving the offending digit back into the company of its brethren.

I frown, the movement shifting my forehead spines together.

Did I offend her?

My gaze flickers to the bandages wrapped around her stomach, a silent reminder of the creature we just faced. Perhaps I was too blunt in my assessment.

Or maybe it's that little episode from this morning, the one involving a dull knife, a rather dramatic haircut, and pink threads dangling from my mouth

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and the memory of it brings back the tantalizing scent.

Feeling a pang of something I can't name—an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation—I decide to give her some space.

But apologizing? Not a chance.

My pride, an age-old trait baked into the very ground of our planet and culture, forbids it. Not for this, at least.

Besides, what do I even apologize for?

For the hundredth time since we were thrust together, I find myself pondering the enigma that is Kira.

This small, seemingly fragile creature harbors a wellspring of aggression that would put even the fiercest Maj'Ra to shame. How can something so physically delicate possess such a potent fighting spirit?

Natural evolution truly does work in the strangest of ways.

An irritated huff from beside me snaps me out of my internal monologue and I pay better attention to our surroundings. I can hear and smell water.

Maybe if I pose my compliment like a question, it will be better received.

"Where did you learn to fight so effectively?"

We walk for a while longer and I keep myself from adding any more. She'll answer if she wants. When she wants. The path grows steeper and more treacherous, and we choose our steps more carefully.

Finally, the dense foliage parts, revealing a sight that makes my hide shiver in appreciation. A clear stream cascades down a smooth rock face, forming a deep pool at its base. Sunlight glints off the surface of the water.

The sight of water is welcome. Maybe it will wash off the last of my unease.

Kira heads toward it, breaking the silence. "I was born to military parents," she starts, her voice steady. "Most of my childhood was spent moving from one active war zone to the other in a state on the brink of collapse, so my parents didn't have much of a choice when it came to good schools or hatchling care."

She snorts at the last sentence, and I blink, I didn't find it particularly funny, but for some reason she did.

Were all humans so desensitized to violence? You'd think their evolutionary path would better equip them for such a lifestyle, since they seemed to love it so much.

She continues, dragging me out of my reverie.

"My parents loved us and loved each other, but we sacrificed a lot for the sake of peace that was ever-elusive. It seemed like the more we fought, the more battles there were. Eventually, my father was killed in action. My mother mostly held it together until the last of us left home, but she was never the same. His death broke her."

I blink, absorbing what that means, and not only because of the sadness that would have caused her.

She is from one of the species who form deep, lasting bonds. A thrill passes through me, and then I stamp it down, another wash of shame rising on its heels.

That should hold no interest to a drakonid. None at all.

"I attended military school all the way to academy level and became a corporal for the American Marine Corps stationed in Maine . Soon enough, we were granted clearance for international operations."

A lot of that didn't translate, but I think I understood enough. I'm afraid she'll stop talking if I interrupt, so I let it pass.

She pauses, her eyes distant as she recalls her past. "I fought countless battles and moved up the ranks until the disastrous day we raided a bio-terrorist cell in Antarctica . The raid started off successfully, but it all went to a fiery pit in the ground. There were fornicating cyborgs."

Human civilization already had access to cyborgs? Interesting. Slaves are usually taken from the more primitive planets.

"No one believed me about the cyborgs."

That explains it. They must have been purchased from an outside force. Probably genali or braceaaer.

"I lost my entire battle-group, so I wouldn't say I learned how to fight all that well, would you?"

She stops speaking, her heart clearly constricted by the memories. I give her a level look, feeling the weight of her story.

"You have lived a warrior's life," I state bluntly.

Kira glances at me, her eyes shadowed by grief and resolve. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"Sometimes that means you are the only one left alive."

She doesn't respond, but I can see that she is thinking over my words. "Surviving is often the harder route," I add.

It's a fact only a warrior would truly understand.

After a moment to let her ponder, I decide to share a bit of my own story.

I don't imagine it'd be fair to hear a warrior's struggles and pain and not share one of my own.

"I was born on Maln'Kril. It's a relatively small planet in drakonid space, protected by warriors like myself. From a young age, we are trained to fight, to survive. It's in our blood, our very essence. My clan, the Raskhar, is known for its ferocity in battle."

Kira listens intently, her eyes fixed on me. "So, you've been fighting your whole life, too?"

I make a rumble of agreement. "Yes. But it is not just about fighting. It's about honor, loyalty, and protecting our kin. Every battle is a test, a chance to prove oneself."

I take a deep breath, recalling the countless creatures we must fight off constantly. "There are many dangers. One of the most formidable is a giant creature with an affinity for electricity. Its body can generate massive electrical storms, making it incredibly dangerous. Then there's the xylanth, a large long-bodied species capable of flight. Their skin is as hard as any metal, making them nearly impervious to our weapons."

Kira gapes at me, her eyes wide with shock. "No wonder you evolved to be built like tanks . Everything you fight off is insane."

My spikes drift together in my confusion. " Tanks ?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "An armored vehicle. Never mind. But seriously, how did your planet end up with such monstrous creatures?"

I feel a hint of embarrassment as I explain. "It's not something we talk about very often, but most of the predatory swarms we have to fight off are the result of our own actions. Before we colonized the planet, we bombarded large swathes of the planet during nuclear and antimatter weapon tests. This had the unintended effect of triggering a volatile evolution in the formerly single-celled organisms that existed on its surface."

Kira stares at me for a moment, making me uneasy.

Then, she laughs at me. I grumble in irritation, feeling the need to defend my ancestors.