Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Y ede paced restlessly around his living space. The home he had built for himself bridged two worlds—scavenged pieces of his crashed ship mixed with furniture built from local timber. Wood burned in a primitive stone fireplace but the windows that looked out into the storm were huge crystal-clear sheets of transparent aluminum. He’d built this place piece by piece, building onto a natural cave system by salvaging what he could from the wreckage, learning to work with the native materials.

As he turned to look out at the storm, he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the windows, his eyes burning like twin silver stars in a face marked by pain and isolation. This solitude was his penance. The loneliness, his punishment. The mountain’s harsh embrace was all he deserved.

Three years . Three years since he’d crashed on this planet. He’d been on a long range patrol when his navigation systems went haywire, followed by a loss of power to the controls. The ship was sturdy enough to survive the landing but the damage was so extensive that restoring it would be a long, arduous task.

He’d looked at the ship and then around at the mountains, pristine and white beneath an arc of cold blue sky. There was no one in sight, no sign of habitation, and the emptiness echoed the emptiness he carried inside. There was no one left to miss him. Even his superior officers would do little more than note his disappearance and move on. Instead of beginning repairs, he’d started dismantling the ship instead.

The mountain had become his self-imposed exile. Most of the time there was a certain amount of—perhaps not peace, but calm—in that solitude. Not tonight. Tonight the howling wind matched his inner turmoil, stirring memories he’d rather keep buried.

A loose panel rattled in the wind and he went to grab his tools, grateful for the distraction. Anything to keep his hands busy, and his mind occupied. The mountain showed no mercy, not to him, not to anyone, and he’d learned never to let any task slide.

Fixing the panel didn’t take long enough and he was back to pacing when a harsh beep disturbed the silence. Frowning, he went to check the monitor in his office—two heat signatures had triggered the proximity alarm.

“Impossible.”

Another race occupied this planet—a primitive, hairless race who seemed to exist in constant turmoil. He’d frequently used his drones to watch them during his first year when the loneliness became too much, but he’d eventually realized that watching others go about their lives made his isolation worse rather than better.

But he’d learned enough during his observations to know that no one ventured this high into the peaks, especially not in weather like this.

The readings blinked again, more urgent now. The smaller signature wavered, its heat signature dropping.

I shouldn’t get involved.

But even as he thought the words he was already heading for his gear, pulling on a thick vest and heavy boots. The heat signatures had stopped moving altogether, and although he knew it was foolish, his conscience wouldn’t let him ignore someone in need.

The wind howled, tearing at him with icy claws as he pushed his way through the door. Even with his natural insulation, the cold cut deep. He pulled up his sensor display on his wrist unit, the blue glow barely visible through the whiteout conditions.

The heat signatures grew weaker with each sweep, but they were still strong enough to guide him through the swirling snow. Despite the treacherous ground, it didn’t take long before a crevice appeared through the curtain of white—a jagged slash in the mountainside. A small body huddled within the narrow space, curled around someone even smaller.

He automatically stepped closer, using his body to block the full force of the wind, and the huddled figure looked up. Green eyes stared up at him from a pale, pretty face. A female.

The force of her gaze hit him like a physical blow, stirring something inside him he’d thought long dead—the urge to protect her. The old pain sliced through him at the thought. How could he offer protection to this small female when he had already failed to protect those he loved? He had no intention of ever failing anyone else that way.

She didn’t speak—just stared up at him, fear turning to cautious hope when he made no move towards her.

His voice emerged rough from disuse.

“My residence is a short distance away. You can shelter there for a night.” The words felt strange on his tongue after so long without speaking. “You’ll die out here.”

He braced himself for her rejection, for the fear to overcome the hope. From what he’d observed, these humans were not familiar with other species and regarded anyone different with suspicion. Even if she refused his assistance, he wouldn’t be able to walk away. Taking an unwilling female to his residence went against everything he’d been taught, but he couldn’t leave her—them—out here to die.

But before he had to take that step, the female’s blue-tinged lips parted. Instead of refusing his offer, she smiled up at him, a genuine, grateful smile that transformed her face.

“Thank you,” she murmured in a soft, shaky voice.

He nodded abruptly and reached for the child in her arms. She immediately reared back, clutching the small body closer. He understood she would not give up the child without a fight, but time was of the essence. The child’s temperature was dropping and she wouldn’t last long either.

“I am stronger. I can carry him safely and more quickly.”

Those green eyes met his, and he felt as if he were being measured. The moment stretched out between them, then she nodded.

“You’re right.”

She passed him the small, limp figure. A boy, he realized as he adjusted the limp weight in his arms, his fur hidden beneath layers of clothing. He tucked the child’s body closer against his chest, trying to share his warmth.

“This way.”

He stepped out of the sheltered crevice and into the full force of the storm. The wind shrieked around him, howling down from the mountain tops and the female stumbled. Keeping one arm tight around the boy, he wrapped the other around her and drew her against his side. Once again he expected her to object and once again she surprised him, leaning even closer.

His precious burdens as safe as they could be under the circumstances, he headed back to his residence.