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But the landing is painless. Just a jostle and a rustling noise as he folds his wings.

“Can you stand?” He gently sets me down. Despite his upper hand on my waist, I wobble and almost fall, grabbing a branch to steady myself. The rough bark skins my palm.

“What’s one more scratch?” I joke, examining the new wound.

Jalus frowns. “You need medicine for that. This way.” He guides me to a basket attached to a rope pulley. While he hauls on the rope to lower us, I catch myself watching his forearms flex.

Stars, what is wrong with me?I adjust my mask to make sure none of the hallucinogenic air is leaking through. Why can’t I keep my eyes off this guy?

I drag my gaze away from him and focus on the Kin village instead.

Groups of winged children tumble through the branches, playing an airborne game of tag. Watching them reminds me of that summer I spent with Jalus and the few times he brought me here to visit.

I’m sorry, Nade. I forgot you can’t play with us.

That’s fine. Go ahead. You have fun.

No, I wanna stay here with you.

I chuckle to myself. Stars, I’d thought he was so annoying and clingy back then. Only now, ten years later, can I finally admit to myself that I was glad for his company. Visiting the Kin makes me feel…well, like an alien. And a familiar face, even if that face has antennae instead of eyebrows, goes a long way toward making me feel at home here.

We pass a large group working on food prep, boiling something vinegary over an ingeniously crafted hanging firepit.

“What are they cooking?” I ask. “Smells amazing.”

Jalus says, “They’re pickling foraged vegetables to store for later.”

“Yum,” I say without thinking. I love pickles, but the Moon Palace cookbots never served them.

“Would you like to try one?” Jalus offers.

I shake my head. “Oh, no, that’s fine, I…”

“They are happy to share.”

And that’s how I end up being presented with a pickled alien fruit, served on a leaf to catch the dripping juices. It’s shaped roughly like a banana pepper and smells mouthwateringly sweet-sour. I suck in a deep breath before lifting my mask and darting my tongue out to taste test. Jalus is watching me with an odd expression on his face. I probably look silly trying to hold my breath and eat at the same time.

The taste is pleasing, so I go in for a bite. It’s still warm, invitingly soft with a firm crunch in the middle, and full of succulent flavor that reminds me of a tomato in balsamic vinegar.

“I could eat this forever,” I tell the cooks fervently. “Delicious.”

They dart glances at each other, giggling but looking pleased. They hand Jalus one, too, and to my shock his tongue flicks out and curls around the pickle, bringing it to his mouth like a frog catching a fly.

“Whoa.” I stare. “Um. Your tongue…”

“It’s retractable and prehensile.” Jalus colors slightly. “I know eating in this way is considered rude by Earth Classic standards…”

“Eat whatever way you want,” I tell him. “I think it’s cool.”

I’m carefullynotthinking about other uses for that tongue.

“Come.” Jalus beckons me to follow as he steps lightly across branches. This village doesn’t have the safety nets that are everywhere at the resort. Trying not to look down, I follow his steps, wishing my stride was as long as his.

We arrive at a rope bridge connecting two trees together—only, unlike the ones back at the resort, this one is little more than a series of tightropes strung across a dizzying drop.

I back away queasily. “I can’t go across that.”

Jalus, already halfway across, turns with utterly perfect balance. “Oh. I forgot.” In two strides, he’s back on the branch with me, scooping me up into his four arms.