Page 4

A gust of wind blows into the cave, quenching my mental tirade and forcing me to seek warmth behind my pile.

It also reminds me of the reason I am pouting in the first place, and almost immediately the glow of my skin turns a dark purple, taking on a more vivid than usual hue that does a proper job conveying just how annoyed I am with myself.

I look back to my most beautiful treasure, the green depths of it all but showing me the story of how I found it… but also reminding me of what I have neglected. The green mocks me in its beauty, pointing out my lack of zhannel.

Hoarding season has passed with a resounding success, but with that success came a failure I didn't even realize was a failure until I was in my cave watching the signs of the cold season trickle in.

I've entered hibernation season without securing an offspring of my own. Again.

It's not like I intended to go unmated, but my manic need to hunt for shiny things has taken precedence over something as inane as finding zhasie to collaborate with in bringing life.

This is not the first time this has happened though, nor the second, nor the third either, so even that excuse is lacking in more ways than acceptable to even my own mind.

My zhann would be berating me now if zha were here, calling me a fool for valuing the sparkle of synthetic materials over the biological imperative to reproduce. The thought of my zhann’s lectures sends a red hue rippling across my skin, but I shake it off. I don't need to be dwelling on those depressing thoughts now.

A skitter of movement catches my attention. A xhenl, bright flashes of blue thrumming over its trailing tendrils as it moves farther back into the cave. My limbs twitch with the desire to capture it, but once again I hear the words of my zhann.

Never keep pets. They only distract you from your true purpose.

I let out a long sigh, returning to berating myself. This hoard is large enough to have a zhannel and yet another season passes.

Deciding to put such grim reflections aside, I settle into my hoard, a sprawling collection of shiny rocks, leaves, and synthetic materials. My skin lights up the items around me with an orange glow, signaling my joy. It's a simple pleasure, to admire the bright things I've amassed. The value doesn't matter; it's the shine that counts.

Not many zhasie would agree, but thankfully, when you're of the first brood of a Primarch zha, many would be hard-pressed to try to convince you otherwise.

Even though there was no remedy for zhasie terming you insane.

I run a claw over a particularly lustrous piece of metal, feeling its smooth surface. It glimmers beautifully under the orange light of my bioluminescence.

Then I turn back to staring in the green, whirling depths of my favorite treasure.

The urge to gather things with a zhannel in mind tugs at me. The instinct to mate is fading now, but it will surge again after the long sleep.

Once I've taken care of that, I can be back here, alone, with my treasures.

A sudden noise from the entrance of my cave jolts me from my thoughts. I turn, my bioluminescent skin shifting to a wary blue. Standing there is a genali, their heavy-duty suit a stark contrast to the natural beauty of my hoard.

I know about them; even recluse like the zhasie have heard of their bloodthirsty campaigns across the system. Ever since the manticorid empire halted their own advancement, the genali have been quick to seize the opportunity to spread their disgusting, slime-covered presence.

The genali stands at the entrance of my cave, its bulbous, wet body coiled with tension. Its skin glistens in the dim light, reflecting an array of colors that rival my own bioluminescence. It has one of my shiny objects in its grasp, turning it over as if mocking my collection.

"What are you doing here?" I demand in its deplorable language, my voice a low growl. My skin flickers with shades of violet, my anger barely contained. None of their stories are worth hearing, though the longer I look, the more are whispered to me.

No. No story associated with them is worth collecting as treasure.

The genali tilts its head, its eyes locking onto mine. "Admiring your collection," it says smoothly, the words dripping with disdain. "Such a… peculiar hobby."

"This is my home, my sanctuary," I snap, the orange glow of joy replaced entirely by the dark purple of annoyance. "You have no right to be here."

The genali's lips curl wide. "You zhasie are so territorial. I merely wanted to see what you had that was so worth protecting."

"Get out," I say, my voice trembling with barely restrained rage. My bioluminescent skin flashes a warning pulse of deep purple. “You deserve none of the stories.”

The genali doesn't move. Instead, it reaches for another of my treasures, a particularly beautiful piece of synthetic material. The sight of it in the genali's grasp sends a surge of fury through me, my skin now a bright violet.

"I said, get out!" I roar, my muscles tensing as I prepare to lunge.

The genali finally drops the object, but not before giving it a disdainful toss. It clatters against the cave wall, causing me to tense. The genali steps back, still watching me with that infuriating smirk.