Page 30 of Snared (The Legion: Savage Lands Sector #8)

MIRI

Phil draped himself across my shoulders like a living scarf, his vine-body pulsing with contentment as I adjusted the comm array for the third time that morning.

Sunlight filtered through the woven canopy of my treehouse—a strange hybrid of Legion tech and jungle craftsmanship that had become my second home.

I stretched, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from yesterday’s jungle patrol with Lor.

Six months in, and I still couldn’t believe this was my life: splitting time between Earth and an alien planet, sleeping with a warrior from beyond the stars, and somehow still managing to record the most successful season of my cryptid podcast to date.

Turns out, living with actual aliens gave me some serious credibility in the paranormal investigation community, even if I couldn’t tell them exactly why.

“Just a little more to the left,” I muttered, nudging the crystalline transmitter that served as the heart of my interstellar communication system. The device—a wedding gift from Veren, of all people—glowed faintly beneath my fingertips. “Come on, you stubborn piece of space tech. Work for Mama.”

Phil extended a tendril to help, wrapping delicately around one of the calibration knobs and turning it with a precision I could never match. The screen flickered, stabilized, then burst into glorious high-definition clarity.

“Yes!” I pumped my fist in victory. “Phil, you’re a genius. The ultimate IT department.”

The vine preened with a shake of its leaves, coiling around my wrist in a smug little squeeze that clearly said, Of course I am. You’re welcome.

I glanced around my treehouse workspace, still marveling at how perfect it was. Lor and the jungle had collaborated to create it after our third trip back to Earth, when I’d complained about lugging equipment back and forth through the rift gate. I’d expected maybe a small desk, not this .

A living structure was woven into the upper branches of three massive trees, with walls that could open to the jungle or seal tight against the elements.

Legion tech was seamlessly integrated with the organic architecture: power cells disguised as glowing fruits, atmospheric regulators hidden within clusters of leaves, and a security system that utilized the jungle’s own neural network as its eyes and ears.

My recording setup dominated one corner, while a oversized hammock hung in another—perfect for those late-night editing sessions that inevitably turned into naps.

And then there was the bed—a massive thing of moss and memory foam that had somehow been transported through the rift gate without my knowledge.

The sheets still carried Lor’s scent from this morning, that unique musk that made my stomach flip even after months together.

I’d left him at the new Legion outpost, going over security protocols with his team while I worked on today’s episode of Cryptid, Please!

My podcast had taken a fascinating turn since meeting Lor.

I couldn’t tell my listeners the full truth, of course.

Legion protocols about first contact were painfully strict, and Earth wasn’t ready for the whole “aliens are real and one of them is doing unspeakably hot things to your favorite paranormal podcaster” reveal.

But I could weave what I’d learned into my content, correcting misconceptions about extraterrestrial life with carefully vague “anonymous sources.”

My listenership had tripled. Turns out, being technically right about everything made for compelling content.

I settled into my recording chair—an ergonomic miracle that adjusted to my body with living sensors—and tapped my microphone.

“Testing, one, two...Hey there, cryptid lovers. This is Miri De Leon, coming to you from a very remote location to bring you the truth behind the legends.”

I paused, listening to the playback. Perfect. No jungle sounds bleeding through, no alien birdsong to explain away. Just crisp, professional audio that sounded like it could have been recorded in any studio on Earth.

But that was for later. Right now, I had a more important call to make.

I pulled up the personal communication interface and keyed in my brother’s contact info. Earth was nine hours ahead right now—or was it behind? Time got weird when you traveled between planets. Either way, he should be home from his shift at this hour.

The call connected after three rings, the screen remaining black for several seconds before my brother’s face appeared.

Marco looked exactly as I remembered: perpetually exhausted, perpetually concerned, a faint line between his brows that had been there since our parents died.

He was still dressed in his work gear as a utilities lineman, suggesting he’d just gotten home.

“Hey, sis,” he said, not looking up from what appeared to be a sandwich he was assembling. “Thought you were recording today. Did you?—“

He finally glanced at the screen and froze, knife hovering above what looked like sourdough bread. His eyes widened, darting to take in my surroundings, the alien architecture of my treehouse, and Phil, who had chosen that moment to wave a friendly tendril at the camera.

“Miri?!” The knife clattered to the counter. “What the fuck? Where are you? I thought you were off in Vegas or something?”

“First of all, don’t worry about all that.

I’m safe.” I said, sobering up from my hysterical laughing fit.

“I’m actually better than safe. I’m great.

As for where I am...” I took a deep breath.

“I’m on another planet. GL-7, to be exact.

It’s a sentient jungle ecosystem that’s really far from Earth. ”

Marco stared at me, mouth slightly open. “This is a joke, right? Some elaborate prank for your podcast? Because if it is, it’s not funny, Miri.”

“Not a joke,” I assured him. “And this,” I gestured to Phil, who wiggled helpfully, “is Phil. He’s a sentient vine and my best friend in the jungle. Say hi, Phil.”

Phil extended himself toward the camera, forming a small blossom at the end of his tendril that opened and closed like a waving hand.

Marco’s face drained of color. “What the actual fuck?”

“I know it’s a lot to process,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. “But it’s real. All of it. Remember those weird energy readings I was tracking in Montana? Turns out they were coming from a rift gate—a portal to another world. I fell through it, literally, and ended up here.”

“A portal,” he repeated flatly. “To an alien jungle.”

“Yep. With sentient plants and everything. The whole ecosystem is conscious—it’s like one giant interconnected mind.

And there are other aliens too. Like the Legion—they’re this interstellar collective with a peacekeeping force that protects places like this.

They have outposts all over the galaxy.”

Phil curled proudly around my neck, as if to emphasize this point.

Marco set down his sandwich, untouched. “You expect me to believe you’ve been living on an alien planet for the past six weeks, hanging out with jungle vines, and not just been holed up in some DND fantasy con?”

“Well, not just jungle vines,” I clarified. “There’s also Lor.”

“Lor?” Marco’s face scrunched up as if trying to figure out his taxes. “What’s Lor?”

I felt my face flush, a giddy smile spreading across my lips.

“Lor is a who, and more specifically, my mate. He’s Rodinian—kind of like a seven-foot tall humanoid leopard with claws and a tail.

He’s a Legion Reaper—an elite warrior assigned to protect this planet.

He’s also...” I twisted the simple band around my wrist, a Rodinian bonding symbol.

“We’re married, by their standards. Or bonded. It’s complicated.”

Marco’s mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to speak. “You married an alien cat-man?”

“He’s more feline-adjacent than actual cat,” I corrected.

“And yes. It’s a whole fated mate thing, although his word for it is kassari.

Their species has this biological imperative where they recognize their perfect match through proximity-triggered shared dreams, and then there’s a claiming bite and—“ I stopped, noting my brother’s increasingly horrified expression.

“You know what? Those are details for another time.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” he said flatly. “Complete psychotic break. I’m calling Dr. Reyes.”

“I’m not crazy,” I insisted. “Look around! Does this look like Earth to you?”

I turned the camera to show more of my treehouse, including the view beyond my open balcony doors where the twin suns of GL-7 were clearly visible in the purple-tinged sky. I zoomed in on a flock of what looked like feathered serpents gliding between the massive trees.

“Could be special effects,” Marco argued, but with less conviction.

“It’s real, Marco. All of it. And I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

Something in my tone must have reached him, because his expression softened slightly. “You really believe this, don’t you?”

“I don’t just believe it. I’m living it.” I leaned forward, willing him to understand. “Look, I know it sounds insane. If our positions were reversed, I’d think you’d gone full tinfoil hat too. But I promise you, this is real. I’ve discovered something incredible, and I want to share it with you.”

Phil nudged my cheek supportively.

“I’ll be back for your birthday,” I continued. “Three weeks from now, Earth time. I’ve already arranged transport through the rift gate. You can see for yourself then that I’m completely sane. Well, as sane as I’ve ever been.”

Marco ran a hand over his face, looking suddenly exhausted. “What am I supposed to do with this, Miri?”

“Nothing. I don’t need you to do anything aside from make sure you get my birthday week off!” I grinned. “Oh, and water my plants until I get back? Please?”

“Your plants,” he repeated incredulously. “You’re living on an alien jungle planet with sentient vines, and you’re worried about your pothos?”

“Hey, commitment is commitment. Besides, Mr. Fronds has been with me since college.”

That startled a laugh out of him—a short, disbelieving sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “This is the most insane conversation I’ve ever had.”

“Just wait until you meet Lor,” I said cheerfully. “Then we can talk about insane.”

As if summoned by his name, I heard the familiar sound of Lor’s approach—the nearly silent tread that somehow still managed to vibrate through the treehouse’s living structure. A moment later, his massive frame filled the doorway behind me, golden eyes immediately assessing the situation.

“Kassari,” he rumbled, moving to stand behind my chair. “The patrol is complete. No signs of intrusion in the southern quadrant.”

Marco’s eyes bulged as he took in Lor’s appearance. Even with the comm system’s limited field of view, there was no disguising what Lor was.

Very much not human, powerfully built, and radiating the quiet intensity that had first drawn me to him.

“Holy shit,” my brother whispered.

“Ah, perfect timing, he got back early. Marco, meet Lor,” I said, reaching back to place my hand on Lor’s arm. “Lor, this is my brother Marco. The one I told you about.”

Lor inclined his head in the formal Rodinian greeting. “Brother of my kassari. You are welcome in our territory.”

Marco made a strangled sound.

“He’s still processing,” I explained to Lor. “Humans need time to adjust to all this.”

“Understandable,” Lor agreed solemnly. “The Nexus is vast and Earth is isolated. Discovery requires adaptation.”

Phil unwound from my shoulders and reached toward Lor, who allowed the vine to curl briefly around his wrist in greeting before Phil returned to me.

“I need to... I should...” Marco seemed unable to complete a thought, his eyes darting between me, Lor, Phil, and the alien backdrop visible through my windows.

“It’s okay,” I said gently. “Take your time. Process. I’ll call again tomorrow, and we can talk more when you’ve had a chance to absorb all this. Just know that I’m safe, I’m happy, and I’ll see you in three weeks.”

“Three weeks,” he repeated mechanically. “Your birthday. Right.”

“Love you, big bro,” I said, meaning it more than ever. “Don’t forget to water Mr. Fronds.”

I ended the call before he could respond, leaning back against Lor’s solid presence with a sigh. “That went about as well as could be expected.”

Lor’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, his thumb tracing the mark at the base of my neck. Our bond mark, now a silvery scar that tingled pleasantly whenever he touched it.

“He cares for you,” Lor observed. “His protectiveness is admirable, if unnecessary now.”

“He’s my only family,” I explained, tilting my head to look up at him. “After our parents died, it was just us against the world. He’s always been overprotective.”

“As he should be,” Lor agreed, bending to press his forehead against mine in the intimate gesture that had become our ritual greeting. “You are precious. Worth protecting.”

The bond between us hummed with contentment—that constant awareness of each other that had only grown stronger over the months. I could feel his satisfaction at finding me safe, his quiet joy at our reunion after just a few hours apart.

Phil slithered across the console to extend new blossoms toward us both—his way of expressing approval. Around us, the treehouse itself seemed to pulse with life, the walls contracting slightly in what I’d come to recognize as the jungle’s version of a hug.

“Home sweet home,” I murmured, taking in the strange, beautiful life I’d stumbled into. An alien warrior who loved me, a sentient jungle that had adopted me, and work I was passionate about that now carried the truth of a universe broader than humanity had ever imagined.

Sure, it wasn’t conventional. But as the twin suns cast their amber glow across our treehouse and Phil curled contentedly around my wrist, I couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

The jungle whispered around us, its million voices joining in a symphony only I could hear—thanks to our neural connection—and I smiled, replying in the way I’d learned.

Yes , I thought back to it. I’m happy too. This is exactly where I’m meant to be.