Page 1

BEFORE

Xeda

You're Lost.

You lost.

Pathetic.

Wake up.

Xeda's eyes slid open. It was quiet in the dark. And warm. Warm like a jungle. But the ground was soft. So very soft...

Something buzzed near him, and he lurched up. Insects hovered on the white sand.

Where are you?

He unfurled himself, his tail slipping over the ground, making a jagged line in the sand. A breeze rose up, and sand brushed along his skin. The thin patches of red grass around him weaved back and forth. He looked up and saw an orange moon, no more than a sliver in the night sky. He leaned back and felt the touch of cool metal.

He didn't need to see to know how bad the ship must look behind him. He could still smell the smoke in the air from the landing. He was curled up underneath one of the broken wings.

He tilted his head up at the twisted metal. His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth.

He wasn't alone. Something was coming.

He smelled the burning tang of metal first, then he heard—over the buzz of insects—the low hum of a ship.

The light hovered over, circling. Searching.

A guttural growl vibrated in his throat. He was too weak to fight. Too weak...

The ship hovered over the ground, and the white light blinded him.

Run.

He tensed, then bolted for the other side of the ship. His legs burned, and his sides burned even more. But he didn't dare stop. Sand kicked up around him as he raced across the dry land, raced for somewhere to hide.

He heard the ship behind him, and rage exploded in him.

He wasn't going to make it.

He heard something snap back, then the whoosh of air before he was slammed into the ground. A cord of metal wrapped itself around him, bending his limbs, coiling tight to keep him in place.

Before he could even let out his fury in a roar, something sharp stabbed him in the back and knocked him out.

* * *

Jungle...vines...wrapping around him. Suffocating him. Breaking him. Vines that were alive. Vines like metal.

What happened?

His eyes slid open, a sharp pain from light stabbing into his skull. No. He had escaped the place of death. He had failed, had suffered, but he had escaped. He had been free.

He had escaped the planet where his death or his imprisonment had awaited. Fate had given him another chance. He had found a ship and had flown through the dark for a lifetime. Or maybe only a moment. Until he had lost his way, lost himself, and crashed. Crashed on that dry land.

And for what?

He had been found after all.