Chapter 11

11

Anna

4 Days Later

Drak and I have officially finished our city tour once over and have found nothing. Three different previously populated areas, and we have not a thing to show for it. Well, unless you count all of the things Drak has discovered along the way—like his love of sports drinks.

Without any real progress, I get more anxious every day that passes. I'm honestly already trying not to cry myself to sleep each night, and this project has just started. It feels hopeless even though I was realistic about this going into it.

The chances of finding my family in a city weren't great to begin with, but it was the best place to start. Searching through the woods is going to be much harder, and it would have been nice to just run into them in the open. The woods may feel open, but it's full of hidden possibilities. There could be traps, other people hiding around, animals… shit, I basically grew up in the woods, and I'm weary about it.

Drak, though, he seems excited. Every day I wake up to him still in high spirits, elated to explore "Urth" some more.

We've been in close quarters these past few days, not finding a place to sleep that I trust outside of the ship. Luckily, the seat is big enough to be pretty damn comfortable when I have to sleep. It's like falling asleep in my grandpa's old recliner. Probably not great for my back long term, but comfy enough for now.

It's likely where I'll continue to sleep since we're heading for the more remote areas. I have a decent list of places that my brothers might go, but there are miles and miles of wilderness to comb through, and I don't know if I'm ready to find nothing there as well. Drak is adamant that we look everywhere, so at least he's determined.

His motivation will have to be enough to fuel the both of us.

"There," I instruct, pointing at a small clearing in a sea of trees. "You can land there, and we can look around to decide if we should search here for a while."

"I see," Drak responds, shifting his hands on the small level controls, directing the spaceship with ease. "What did you call this place, An-nana?"

"It's a campground," I remind him, frowning at the ground below us. "Or at least, it used to be."

"Hu-nims sleep in fabric here?"

I snort, shaking my head at his understanding of a tent. I mean, he's technically not wrong. It is just some fabric and poles.

"Yes," I answer, not correcting him. "I'm less worried about traps here, hunting wasn't allowed when it was open. This was a family-friendly spot."

Which is why my family may have come here. It's not a desirable location for setting up a survival camp, and therefore it would be unlikely others would try the same. Plus, if you know your way around, there's a lot that makes this place habitable. Berries along the mountain river's edge, a lack of poisonous plants, birds and rabbits that can be killed for food, and a small population of deer that survive because it was forbidden to hunt them before.

Put all of that together with the fact that there's a freshwater river close by along with old—nearly ancient—tall trees surrounding the area, and it would be a more than decent place to set up camp.

The landing goes smoothly, and Drak informs me that he doesn't sense anything other than small animals. He does that without me even asking now like he knows it puts me at ease to know what we're going into. What doesn't put me at ease is how he has to help me in and out of the ship every single time.

I can feel his hands on my hips or my waist—wherever he holds me to pull me out—for hours after he's let me go. Not to mention the ungodly way his scent clings to me every time we touch. I've found myself sniffing my sleeves unconsciously on multiple different occasions. It's concerning, to say the least.

"Are you alright?" Drak asks, his eyes lasered in on my face.

He hasn't taken his hands off of my hips, despite the fact that my boots are now firmly planted on the ground. There's the itch to stab him, but then there's a horrible twist in my gut when I think about actually doing it. This trip is messing with my head.

"Fine," I reply, willing myself to step back so his hands fall away. But I don't. He's so close to me, his broad, muscular chest only inches from my face. I have to look up, craning my neck just to look at his face. "If you think it feels safe, we should start hiking to the river. It's not far, but it would be closer to where they'd camp if they're here. Water source and all that."

His pearly white fangs flash into a smile. "I do not feel wary, Mean One. It will be a safe journey. Shall you wear your armor?"

Cocking an eyebrow at him, I ask, "Are you going to let me get shot?"

As if it were instinct, his fingers dig into my sides, hands tightening around me. "Never," Drak replies, eyes blazing. "I will use my body to shield you before I let a hu-nim weapon harm you—before I let any weapon harm you."

Unable to stop it, a shiver rolls down my spine, forcing a shaky breath from between my lips. The utter devotion in his words… it's too good to be true.

Clinging on to every bit of strength in me, I flip one of my braids over my shoulder, spin on my heels, and begin to lead the way. Drak's hands fall with reluctance, dragging from my hips slowly. I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the warmth that swells in my stomach at the sensation.

"Good," I reply with my back to him.

It doesn't take him more than a second to glue himself to my side, looking prepared to dive in front of me and protect me at any given moment.

"I hear water," he tells me, his pointed ears shifting like he's trying to listen more closely. "It sounds strong."

I think about the little river and remember what makes it flow.

"There's a waterfall," I explain. "Does your planet have those?"

His responding smile is telling. "Oh yes, Aprix has many of these."

"The name doesn't translate exactly?" I arch a brow up at him, wondering since he doesn't try to say it.

Drak's expression becomes almost sheepish. It's a strange sight to see because he's almost exclusively happy-go-lucky or bloodthirsty. The man will kill something with his teeth and then grin and laugh with the blood still smearing his lips. Being shy isn't really in his personality.

"There is no one word for it in our language," he says carefully like he's trying to explain something difficult. "If I were to say how we speak it in Ang'lish, it would not sound right."

Shrugging, I suggest, "Try it."

Drak sighs but complies. "The high wind's water, crushing to the rocks."

"It sounds fine to me," I say honestly. "It's like… poetic or something."

His brows furrow. "Po-e-tick?"

"It means something that sounds like poetry," I explain. "Poetry is like… writing with feelings and rhythm. It's a respected art form and beautiful to a lot of people."

"You think my words to be beautiful, An-nana?"

"Sure," I mumble, wishing I could just be honest and tell him yes.

"I think you are beautiful," he tells me, shocking me so much that I flinch.

I pause, glancing at him from the side. My heart is starting to jump around in my chest, and I feel like I just swallowed my tongue.

"Drak, it's not nice to tease," I bite out, expression hard.

"I do not tease," he defends, affronted by the accusation. "You are lovely to look at, An-nana. Why do you say I tease?"

Glowering at his innocent look, I lift my chin at him. "Boys don't call me beautiful or lovely, Drak. If you were really trying to be my friend, you wouldn't lie to me."

His huge hands surround the sides of my face, and I stiffen, resisting the urge to bite him. "I. Do. Not . Lie," he growls. "I find you mesmerizing , stubborn female. Do not tell me that my words are not in truth, and I am not a boy ."

"Shut up," I spit out angrily, allowing him to keep his hands on my face. "Why are you insisting on this, Drak? Brooke is beautiful, Stevie is beautiful. Hell, all of the other girls are beautiful. Don't act like I'm even close to looking like what they look like."

I don't think I'm ugly , but not once has someone called me beautiful. Pretty ? Sure, if you think my brothers count. But beautiful? That just isn't me.

"I do not wish for you to look like them," he insists, practically shaking me with his grip. "Do not tell me what I can and cannot find beautiful."

"Well, then don't call me?—"

"I like your hair," Drak cuts in, interrupting me. "It is shiny and soft."

Tired of this, I sigh. "Drak?—"

Again, he stops me. "I like the way the little dots on your face change when you scrunch your nose at me and the blunt teeth behind your lips. I like that even though you are small, you have so much strength. I like that your eyes are small pools of the sky, and I?—"

Overwhelmed, I grab his wrists, pulling him off of me. "I get it?—"

I don't get it, but I need him to stop.

"Say you are beautiful," he demands.

"You're crazy."

"Say it."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

" Say it ," he commands louder.

"Fine! I'm beautiful! Are you happy now?" I practically scream the words at him, chest heaving.

"I will be happy when you believe it," he responds crisply.

"And you call me stubborn," I huff.

Drak puffs out his chest. "You will believe it. I will make you."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Delusional," I grind out, forcing a tight smile. "Let's just get to searching. We don't have time to argue all day.

Whether or not he feels defeated, he agrees.

Shaking my head, I start ascending the small mountain.

What the hell was that?