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Kala

Our world has changed since the first ship filled with humans arrived on Tavikh many moons ago.

I stare up at the bright, clear sky from our small village within the hillside trees and watch as this latest ship slowly descends.

For a brief moment, it obscures the sun, until the alien object dips below the treetops and they hide it from my view.

Unless things have changed from the other ships that have landed here, I already know where it will set down.

Outside of the human settlement that is beyond the trees where the Tavikhi village is located.

I have only a few regrets in life, and participating in the attacks upon the newcomers—and the subsequent deaths of far too many of them—is the biggest one.

King Armik frequently punished me when I refused to force myself on the females my people stole. Warring is all I have ever known, and I have killed hundreds from the various tribes inhabiting this planet since I picked up my first war axe as a kit.

However, I could not bring myself to harm any of the females in that way.

I was willing to endure whatever consequences I must. The weakness of the humans reminded me far too much of the weakness suffered by Sorin’s momo.

She had been small. Thin. Always hungry.

Always sick. While she was not my true mate, I cared for her in the only way a Krijese knows how.

When she wasted away to nothing after the unknown disease spread and joined our god in the holy place, I grieved her.

Sorin races past the main fire and skids to a halt in front of me. “Gogo, was that another human ship?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think any of these new humans will go to live with the Tavikhi?”

I lay my hand on his small shoulder that is still far too thin after the illness he suffered the previous cold season. “I do not know.”

“Perhaps one of the new females is your mate.”

“You know that is not possible.”

My kit stares up at me with a small tilt to his head. It is the way he always looks when he does not understand something. “Perhaps these females are different than the other ones.”

As much as I tried, I had been unable to fully hide the fact there were humans in our old village that the others attempted to force kits on. Sorin is too young to realize exactly why all those other females died. “I am sorry, but all human females are the same.”

The flicker of light in his darkened eyes dims. “Healer Sage and the shefira are very different from each other. Healer Sage’s hair is the color of fire and the mounds on her chest are far bigger than the rest of the females.

She also has the most curvy body of them all except for Astrid.

The warrior Remi is tall and slender like one of the fiku trees that fills the forest and her hair color is the most similar to our floks.

How can you say all human females are the same when the mates of the Tavikhi warriors are nothing alike? ”

I had not thought to explain how breeding works to my kit so soon, but if he is to understand my meaning, then he must learn. At least enough to satisfy him about why these new arrivals will be no different than any of the other humans who have come to Tavikh.

“Come.”

With my hand remaining on Sorin’s shoulder, I guide him to the tent we share.

It is one of the few that makes up our village.

Just before the Tavikhi killed King Armik and the males who attacked their people the final time, the remaining members of our tribe—the ones who no longer wished to fight and only wanted peace—moved here.

The cold season was harsh, and we lost two of our elders, so our numbers are even less than they were before.

I guide Sorin into our dwelling and gesture to his pallet. He seats himself on it, and I lower myself to my own.

“Krijese and humans are not able to mate in the ways Tavikhi and humans can. There is something within us that does not mix well their females. When Krijese and humans have attempted to have young in the past, none of the kits or females have survived. None of them.” Far too often I can still hear the ragged cries of the momos as they attempted to give birth until they faded away to nothing.

“As I said, it is impossible for humans to mate with Krijese.”

“What is it within us that does not mix with them?”

I pause to think of a proper explanation. There is only one. “Our seed. Humans are unable to accept the essence Krijese males produce that create young.”

It is the only explanation I have for why the females who did not sacrifice themselves to their god died within two or three turns after giving birth, and why all the kits eventually wasted away.

That stubborn tilt of my kit’s head arrives, although I can tell there is some confusion as well. I can only guess what will leave his mouth next.

“Perhaps it was only those …”

“No, Sorin.” I slice my arm through the air. “Human females are not meant for Krijese.”

His shoulders drop and he hangs his head.

There is pain in my hearts from being so harsh.

I lean over and stroke his floks. “Let us go hunting. Benham said he, along with Talek and Cecily, would be doing so as well. If we are lucky, we will come across them and you can spend time with your friends.”

Sorin nods without enthusiasm and rises from his pallet to grab the war axe the Tavikhi weapon-maker crafted for him several moons ago. Benham is not only a mighty warrior and hunter, but he is the most skilled of anyone I have ever met at making weapons.

I reach for the war axe that used to belong to my gogo and secure its sheath around my shoulders and chest. Sorin steps outside without a word, and I release a sigh before following.

Ever since Healer Sage saved my kit’s life and my small tribe became allies with the Tavikhi, he has developed great affection for their human mates.

Since the sickness wiped out nearly all of our females, including Sorin’s momo, he has been surrounded by males.

The care he received from Healer Sage during his sickness was the most gentleness and tenderness he has ever been given.

Even before his momo was taken. Krijese know war.

We know survival. We do not know gentle.

We do not know tender. Neither are in our blood.

“Another human ship has arrived.” Ortak approaches from his tent.

“Yes.”

Sorin waits nearby. It is clear he is listening intently.

“How many more will they send?”

“I do not know.” As I am the only one of us who has spent any time in the Tavikhi village, I have learned a few things about the human’s old world.

Perhaps they will not stop sending them until our planet is as overrun as theirs.

“That is something we cannot worry about though. So long as they leave us in peace, they can do whatever they wish.”

“Do you not have concerns?”

“It is better not to invite worries if we do not have to. As I have said, we wish only for peace. If they allow that, then I have no concerns.” I nod and walk over to Sorin. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

We stride out of the village and into the surrounding trees along the path we have carved since arriving here all those moons ago.

Our steps are not nearly as quiet as the Tavikhi’s, but we are slowly learning how to become hunters of more than two-legged creatures.

The mellenje call to one another from high up in the branches.

Their feathers are bright against the leaves and I spot several nests cradled within the treetops.

I sweep my gaze along the ground, keeping an eye out for any leburin burrows.

While far too small to satisfy a grown Krijese, the meat of three or four of them is enough for a single meal for Sorin and Gannen.

They are the only two kits left of our people.

A fact I try not to dwell on. Once they are gone, the Krijese will cease to exist.

“Gogo, look.”

The quiet voice makes the uneasy thoughts disappear like smoke and I focus on where Sorin is pointing.

In the distance, there is the flash of movement.

The dhibani that live within the hills. They roam in herds and when agitated will charge.

I have nearly been gored by a long twining horn on more than one occasion.

“Stay low, and keep your footsteps light.” I stretch my arm backward to keep Sorin somewhat behind me.

Together we carefully make our way toward where at least one beast is located.

A small break in the trees gives view to a relatively small herd.

Several younglings are blocked in by many adults for protection.

As easy as it would be to target them, they will not provide the meat our people need to survive.

It does not sit well with me to orphan young, but I must see to the survival of my people above all others.

We creep closer and closer still, watching where we place our feet so as to not disturb any twigs or branches, until we are nearly within striking range.

I silently withdraw my war axe and Sorin follows my lead.

When one dhibani jerks its head up and freezes as though scenting predators close, we pause all movement, including our breaths.

Several beats pass before the dhibani relaxes and returns to its grazing.

I nod at Sorin who repeats the gesture, and together we rush forward and throw our blades at our prey.

Both our axes bury into the sides of two different beasts who release pained screams and attempt to escape.

Neither make it far before they collapse onto the bari-covered field. The rest have scattered in fear.

“Excellent shot,” I praise Sorin’s aim and yank my axe from my kill.

His mouth slit widens and he bares his teeth in pride. The humans would call his attempt a smile, but it is not something Krijese are truly capable of doing. Our mouths do not open in such a way as others do.

“Well done,” a gruff voice calls out from the other side of the field.

I ready myself for an attack and only when I recognize the three figures striding toward me do I relax. “Greetings, Benham.”

“To you as well.”

The Tavikhi warrior approaches as I sheath my weapon. At his side are two kits; a male Tavikhi and a human female, each carrying their own small spear. Both of them grin widely and observe the dhibani we brought down.

“You must teach us how to throw an axe like that.” Talek nearly bounces with excitement, while Cecily is calmer in her enthusiasm.

Sorin makes himself stand slightly taller. Although he is younger than both Talek and Cecily by two sun cycles, he is near to the male kit in height. “I will ask Gogo to bring me to your village soon and we will practice.”

“Would you like to join us?” Benham asks. “We will continue our hunting until the sun has nearly descended to the hilltop and then return to the village.”

“We accept.”

The Tavikhi nods, and the three of them wait while I collect Sorin’s and my kills.

I hoist the beasts over my shoulder and join the others.

The kits chitter to each other slightly behind us as we move through the forest, although they keep their voices soft and low as to not scare away any prey.

I glance over at Benham. He is the largest of all the Tavikhi warriors within Zander’s tribe.

We are of the same build and possess an almost equal number of scars on our bodies. They are signs of our strength.

Since I am certain he witnessed it as well—I am not sure Benham misses anything—I bring up the human ship that just arrived. “How many do you think will be on this one?”

He glances at me and does not ask of what I speak. “My keeshla says they have sent anywhere from fifty to over a hundred with each ship that has landed here.”

Whereas Benham is the largest Tavikhi, his mate is the smallest of all the females.

I still find it difficult to picture them together.

They are as opposite as two beings could be.

Yet the ferocity in which he cares for Maeve would make the hardest of hearts soften.

It is no less than she cares for him, either.

All the Tavikhi are devoted to their mates in a way no Krijese has ever been.

“It would appear our planet continues growing.” Perhaps not in ways we wish.

“The unmated warriors in our tribe are grateful for the fact, since it would appear as though none of the females that already reside in the settlement have an interest in seeing if they are the keeshla to any of them.”

Unlike the Krijese, Tavikhi warriors have a single female that is their fated mate—their keeshla .

She is the one who makes their mating marks—dark swirling lines in various shapes and locations on their body—appear with only a touch.

Before Zander touched London and triggered his mating marks, the Tavikhi had also been fearful their species would die out.

“Yes, I am sure they are.”They have far more females and kits than the Krijese do, but Talek had been one of the last kits born to the Tavikhi until recently. It does not surprise me that their people are anxious for more females to arrive. “I wish your warriors well in finding their mates.”

Benham inclines his head, but does not offer the same to me. It is because he knows—just as I do—that humans females are not meant for Krijese.