19. Ree

19

Ree

Thivoll's attempt at a smile would've been one of the most frightening things I've ever seen had he tried it when we first met.

His ebony teeth are deadly sharp.

Except the combination of his lips trying to mimic a human's movement and the way he squints his eyes makes him look like a giant Cheshire Cat with black shark teeth.

Or maybe I'm feeling a bit too much like Alice and I'm projecting.

Either way, it's comical.

I can't contain another laugh and I'm relieved when Thivoll doesn't take offense.

I like the idea of getting more comfortable, especially after the terribly cold night and the stress of the crash landing. Not to mention that this is the first time I've felt a glimmer of hope that maybe I won't be sold off at auction.

That alone brings its own form of exhaustion on the heels of weeks of tension and terror.

"To answer your question, I would appreciate your help," I say.

"Excellent, I . . ." Thivoll trails off, his ears stop their constant swiveling, and he turns his head to his left. I hold myself still and quiet, wondering what he hears.

The forest around us stills and the hairs on my arms rise.

I startle when Thivoll pulls me to him, but I remain silent. My face is enveloped by the soft fur of his mane as he pulls me tighter against his chest with one arm. Then I feel us rise, a shot of panic at the speed of it causing me to wrap my arms around his thick neck.

After catching a quick glance of how far up we are I bury my face deep into his fur so I can't see and wrap my legs around his waist. It tapers at a different angle than a human, with no hips to catch my weight so I have to squeeze hard to remain locked against him.

We stop ascending not long after, and I feel the difference in gravity pulling me away from his chest instead of down toward his back paws. I hazard a look and am relieved when all I can see are twining tree trunks and thick leaves.

Thivoll pulls gently on my legs, letting me know he wants me to release my death grip. As I do, his arms wrap around me and he repositions me so he is holding my weight. It gives me the confidence to pull my face from his fur and inspect our surroundings.

We're on a relatively spacious platform created by the splitting of the main trunk into multiple massive snaking limbs. I can't see anything beyond that because not long after the trunk splits there are masses of smaller branches with thick feathery foliage.

Thivoll's body is still tense, and so I assume the danger hasn't passed, whatever it is.

I can't see his face, but his steady breathing suggests he isn't panicking or afraid. He moves us until he's sitting upright with his back legs folded under him. He wraps his long tail around a tree limb. Probably to provide stability since his arms are around me.

I have no proper sense of what dangers lurk on this planet.

Aside from the genali, of course. Thinking of them and their dark, bulbous eyes leering at my body for the past weeks makes me shudder.

Thivoll squeezes me to him gently, then runs one of his hands through my long hair in a soothing motion. He mostly stays near my scalp and the sensation is like no other. I always loved when my mother would play with my hair and it always brings back feelings of deep contentment.

I let out a long sigh, then return the favor by massaging my hands into the fluffy, thick fur of his mane, his scales against the tips of my fingers an interesting distraction from our precarious situation.

A gentle purr starts up in his chest soon after.

I get lost in the moment, enjoying the feel of his silky fur under my hands.

When his body starts to relax, I let out a relieved breath, but otherwise remain silent. My ears are useless compared to his and it would be reckless to speak without knowing it's safe.

"I don't hear them anymore," he tells me in a quiet voice, "but let's remain here for a short while just in case."

"Genali?"

"Possibly. They were too far away for me to say with accuracy."

"I heard them talking about this place before we crashed," I share. "This is some sort of holiday planet for terrible people, it sounded like."

"Yes. There are other species of hunters here," he explains. "Usually the type who've had lucrative careers terrorizing and enslaving. They train in ancient weapons and survival skills on the nearby moon."

"But why take the risk?"

"I assume they're bored with their usual methods of violence. It seems like the more hunters die here, the more popular it becomes. So many suicidal hunters and I'm meant to be one of the prey," he says with a chuff in his voice to let me know he finds it amusing.

Or I'm misinterpreting. "That's funny?"

"Yes, very much so. They'll realize their critical error soon enough."

I blink at that, not sure how to take his comment. "Uh, are you part of the military or something?"

"No, negative. I'm a vent cleaner."

I'm missing something. He's awfully confident, but I fail to see how cleaning has prepared him for this.

As usual, I lack a filter.

"I don't understand. Are cleaners also warriors on your planet?"

He chuffs in response, amused. "You are so delightful, Ree."

I feel my face coloring, but his tone lets me know he isn't making fun of me.

He hums, then explains. "Before we took the path of peace, my species was the dominant one in the known universe. Now we primarily make art, try to figure out our own mysterious biology, and keep ourselves mostly isolated to our home system."

I perk up about his mention of biology. "What's mysterious about your biology?" It occurs to me it might be too personal. "I mean, if you don't mind sharing, of course. I'm a nurse, so it's a particular area of interest."

"You take care of younglings? That must be a rewarding if not tiring profession."

"No, no," I correct him. "I think something was lost in translation there. I'm a medical nurse. I work in a hospital."

"I see. Medicine has been taken over by technology in my culture, so there are really only technicians left. The word must have lost that meaning at some point."

I blink slowly, absorbing the loss of an entire profession.

Everyone is always afraid of the newest form of technology and how it might replace their jobs. It sounds like there is some validity to that fear after all.

I open my mouth to ask another question, but he interrupts me. "I would love to discuss this more, but we should move out of the area and to another tree. I climbed in haste and so there will be damage to the bark."

"Yikes, we should definitely move then," I reply.

"I'm not sure what 'yikes' means, Ree," he says, his voice puzzled and his whiskers drooping slightly.

"Uh, well I'm not sure of the official definition, but I just use it when I think something sounds really important and I hadn't realized it."

He nods at me, the movement clearly not natural for him yet, but seeing him trying to communicate with me in my own gestures makes my chest feel full.

Not to mention it makes his fluffy mane move in a captivating way.

I realize I'm staring and shake myself out of it. "Is there a better way for me to ride you . . . um . . . er . . . no, that sounds wrong. A better way for me to hold on to you on the way down?"

I'm embarrassed about my slip of the tongue and hope he doesn't get the double meaning.

"I liked the way you held me on the way up," he says, his voice with an underlying purr that makes me think we are talking about more than just logistics now.