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I raise an eyebrow. Crisp… but ancient? I have my doubts, but I don’t share them. As excited as he sounds it would be like kicking a puppy. More and more I’m having to throw out my assumptions about what things mean to him. He sounds more like a nerdy museum curator than a pirate. Or day trader.

"That sounds… interesting,” I say instead of crushing his dreams. “What were the rarest items from your previous hoard?"

And just like that, the floodgates open. Kroaicho begins to tell me story after story, each item in his old hoard connected to some far-flung world, picked up by this trader or that. Some forgotten piece of history. Slowly, I start to piece together bits of information about Kroaicho's home world, the zhasie culture, such that it is. Everything, of course, seems to revolve around treasure.

As the creature cooks, I lean back, absorbing everything Kroaicho says, my mind whirling with the new information.

After a while, Kroaicho stands, his six limbs stretching. "I should go," he says, glancing toward the cave entrance. "There may be more treasures to find tonight."

I hesitate for a moment, then speak up. "Kroaicho, if you're going out again… could you keep an eye out for the others? The other women who were with me when we crash-landed here, I mean?"

He tilts his head, considering my request. "Humans," he murmurs. "Like you, but with different… colors?"

I nod, wondering how he knows about the variation in human coloring. "Yes, exactly. It would mean a lot to me if you could find them."

The alien looks doubtful, and my brain does what it does best. Clutch for straws.

"Humans… yes, they would make excellent additions to your collection."

Kroaicho gives me what I can only rationalize to be a flat look before it mutters something under its breath and summarily turns around its six limbs stretched out as it prepares to leave, my mind whirling. This is my chance, I think. I need to convince it to help me find the others, but there's that nagging thought—what I just said about humans being “additions” to his collection. I should feel ashamed, right? After all, I've basically just offered up my fellow humans like objects to a creature whose only passion is hoarding. But I can't summon up guilt right now.

Clearing my throat, I approach it from a different angle. "Look," I say, adopting my most persuasive tone, "I know humans might not sound like much, but think about the variety. You like unique treasures, don't you? Humans are incredibly diverse. Each one is like a completely different piece in a collection."

Kroaicho pauses, turning his violet face toward me, the orange glow from the fire still reflecting off his skin, but no longer lit up orange from within. I can see him considering, so I push harder.

"Imagine," I continue, stepping closer, my voice dropping low like I'm sharing some grand secret. "A hoard with not just one, but multiple humans. It would be unlike anything you've ever collected. Rare. Unpredictable. You'd be the only one with a collection like that."

Kroaicho's expression shifts, and for a moment, I think I've struck gold. The glow beneath his skin brightens, flashing orange as it thinks over my words.

But then, his response cuts through the air like a slap. "No!" Kroaicho snaps, its voice suddenly sharp. "You… are… are the worst addition to a hoard possible! I will not seek out more of your kind."

I blink, stunned by the vehemence in its voice. What?

Kroaicho shivers, his glowing skin now turning a deep violet, the tell-tale sign of growing irritation. "Your kind are pests," he says, his voice dripping with horror. "Annoying. Loud. I will not collect more of you."

I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms in return. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did my human-ness offend your delicate treasure-collecting sensibilities?" My words are practically dripping with sarcasm, but I can't help it. I've already lost the argument. Now I'm just pissed.

Kroaicho huffs, the noise something like a growl mixed with a snort. "You are more trouble than you are worth. You and the others are no treasure. You're—" He gestures wildly with one of his clawed limbs, "—broken things. Not worthy of hoards."

His words cut deep, bringing up memories of the similar words uttered by family, teachers, employers… but I slip on my mask, refusing to let him see.

I laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. "Broken things? Is that your expert treasure-collector opinion?" I take a step forward, not backing down, despite the fact that Kroaicho could probably squash me like a bug if he wanted to.

"Listen, if I'm so worthless, then why are you still hanging around me? You know what I think?" I lean in, lowering my voice. "I think you like having someone to talk to."

Kroaicho recoils, his glowing violet dimming into a sullen blue. "I do not," he says, but I can tell by the way his skin flickers that I've hit a nerve.

I press on, refusing to let up. "Oh, really? Because for someone who's so determined to call me a pest, you sure spend a lot of time with me."

"You are part of my hoard," he grumbles, tusks grinding in annoyance.

"Right. Just a shiny human rock, right? That's why you helped me gather sticks and started getting all philosophical about fire?"

The creature's skin shifts, the colors swirling in frustration. "I will leave now," he says, and there's a finality in his tone that lets me know I've pushed too far.

I watch as Kroaicho turns toward the mouth of the cave, all six limbs moving in that smooth, predatory motion he has. Part of me wants to yell for him to stay, but I'm too tired to keep arguing.

"Fine, go then!" I shout, the words bouncing off the cave walls. "See if I care!"