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V rok

I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to go on this dicro-brained mission with the little female. Surely, this will be my undoing. I certainly won’t be able to return to the village after this, but it’s not like there’s anything for me there. Not anymore.

The human is stubborn in a way that borders on infuriating. But that stubbornness might just be the death of her out there in the jungle, and for some reason I still don’t understand, I find myself reluctant to allow her to take that risk alone.

She kneels before me with a knife that looks like an eating utensil.

Her hands tremble slightly and her movements are stiff as she works the blade into the rusted lock securing the chains around my wrists.

Her grip is wrong on the hilt, and she keeps twisting the knife at an awkward angle, but her jaw is set with the kind of determination I’m more accustomed to seeing on warriors in the training arena.

The dim moonslight spilling through the window casts shifting shadows over her face, catching on the strands of bright hair escaping from her braid.

The color startles me every time I see it.

Warm gold, like captured sunlight, so different from the cool silvers and teals of my kind.

It doesn’t belong in a place like this, in the dark, in the filth.

And yet, even here, it glows, as if determined to illuminate even the bleakest of corners.

The human is so much smaller than me and so breakable.

Even now, crouched before me, she radiates nervous energy, but there’s no fear in her scent.

Just the sweet enticing scent of a female.

There’s no hesitation in the way she sets herself to the task, which makes me wonder if she even knows how fragile she is. Especially on Laedirissae.

Her head tilts as she works, and for a brief moment, the moonslight illuminates her eyes.

They’re gray. It’s a color I know well. Laediriians only have two eye colors—silver and gray.

Yet on her, it’s different. The deep gray is similar to the heavy storm clouds.

This little female is a strange contradiction with her sunshine hair and storm-filled gaze.

Her brow furrows as she struggles with the lock, and the sight is unexpectedly distracting. Her small, pink tongue peeks out between full lips, wetting them as she concentrates on the movements of her fingers.

I should be focused on getting out of here, on the danger of being caught escaping. But instead, my gaze drifts lower to the soft curves hidden beneath the fabric of her dress, and the way the mesmerizing mounds shift with her movements.

Heat curls low in my gut. I have the sudden urge to reach out and feel the warmth of her skin. To see if her skin is as soft as it looks. I clench my fists instead, forcing myself to remain still, to push back against the hunger pulsing through my veins.

This is not the time, but my body doesn’t seem to care.

“If you keep jabbing at it like that, you’ll break the tip before you open the lock,” I mutter.

She freezes and glares up at me, her stormy eyes flashing with irritation. “Do you want me to get you out of these or not?”

“Just trying to help,” I say dryly, leaning back against the wall. It’s not like I’m going anywhere until she figures it out.

She huffs, adjusting her grip before attacking the lock again.

The chains rattle with her every movement and the metal is cold against my skin.

But my attention keeps drifting back to the way she bites her lip in concentration.

She’s so different from me in every way.

Too soft, too expressive, too open with her emotions. Too… human.

And yet, she’s here. She’s doing this.

The lock finally gives with a sharp click , and the chain slides free from my wrists. I flex my hands, rolling my shoulders as I stand to my full height.

The little female steps back on instinct, and for the first time, I see it—a flicker of awareness in her gaze as she takes in the sheer size of me. The top of her head barely reaches my chest, and for all her earlier bravado, she’s realizing just how vulnerable she is standing so close to me.

But she doesn’t back down.

Instead, she drops to her knees and reaches for my ankles, and in just a heartbeat or two, she has the second lock undone.

She rises swiftly and tilts her chin up. “What now?”

I drag my gaze over her, watching the way her breath catches. My mouth thins in a grim line.

“What now?” I echo, narrowing my eyes. “Now, you follow my lead. You said it yourself… you need me to survive. So, unless you’ve suddenly developed a death wish, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

Her lips press together, but she nods. “Fine, but we’re not wasting time. Every second we spend here is a second Lily might not have.”

Her words sting, even though they’re not directed at me. I know what it’s like to feel the crushing weight of helplessness. Maybe that’s why I agreed to this madness. Because I know what it’s like to hope, even when hope feels like an errand for a fool.

“We leave now, before anyone comes to check on me,” I say gruffly. “There’s a hut near the edge of the village where we can gather supplies. Stay close. If anyone spots us, let me do the talking.”

I pause at the door, my ears twitching and straining for any sign that someone might be awake, but the village is still.

The little female follows without a word as I step outside.

Cool night air brushes past us, carrying the distant rustle of leaves and the faint chirp of night insectoids.

The moons cast a soft glow over the huts and stone-paved paths.

My eyes scan the area around us for movement, but nothing stirs. So far, our fortune holds. For now.

We move quickly but carefully, keeping to the shadows where the light doesn’t quite reach. My mind races with the possibilities of everything that could go wrong. A warrior returning early, a stray sound that alerts someone to our presence, or worse, the chief himself deciding to check on me.

As we approach the supply hut, I slow my steps and glance back at the human. “Stay here.”

She frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because if someone is in there, I can handle them. You can’t.” I keep my voice low and firm. “Just keep watch.”

Her lips press into a thin line. It’s clear she’s not happy with my answer, but she eventually nods.

I slip inside and work quickly, retrieving a satchel and stuffing it with everything we might need. Dried dicro meat, trail rations, a full waterskin, and a medic kit. It’s not much, but it should keep us alive.

When I step outside, she’s still where I left her, clutching her own satchel in tense silence.

“Next stop, weapons,” I murmur.

The slashes of hair above her eyes— eyebrows , I think the humans call them—lift in question, but she doesn’t question me as we slip through the village toward a squat stone hut near the training arena.

This time, before I can say anything, she stops at the entrance. “Let me guess. Stay here.”

“You learn quickly.” I step past her to the door of the hut.

She huffs, but she doesn’t argue as she crosses her arms and leans against the hut’s outer wall.

Inside, the scent of oiled steel and leather fills the space, and my gaze locks onto the racks of weapons lining the walls.

I move swiftly, picking a large, well-balanced sword. It’s not the same as my own sword. The one I’ve had ever since I was made a warrior in the tribe, but it will serve its purpose. Moving down the racks, I strap a dizzying array of knives to my body with practiced precision.

A long dagger against my thigh. A smaller curved blade at my hip. Smaller knives lined along my chest and hidden in my boots. By the time I step back outside, I’m fully armed, and the weight of the weapons is familiar and comforting.

When I exit the weapons hut, the human’s eyes widen slightly as she takes me in.

“Isn’t that overkill?” she murmurs.

I frown, my mind catching on the unfamiliar word.

Kill I understand, but over ? The translator chip embedded behind my ear that allows me to understand the humanish language offers no useful explanation, leaving me to puzzle over whether she’s questioning my weapons or making some strange joke only a human would understand.

I tilt my head at her. “Not if we want to survive the jungle.”

Whatever she meant, my answer must satisfy her because she doesn’t argue. Instead, she exhales sharply and nods. “Let’s go.”

We move quickly toward the eponirs’ corral, the last hurdle before we can disappear into the jungle. As we weave through the village, a dangerous thought takes root in my mind.

I could leave her.

She’s freed me, and now I’m armed. I have everything I need to escape. I could disappear into the jungle before anyone even realizes I’m gone.

It’s the smart choice. The safe choice. It’s what my father would do.

But then I glance at her, at the way her fingers still clutch the eating knife in her hand. She’s small and fragile. And human. And yet, she’s willing to throw herself into the unknown for the slim chance of saving her cousin.

I know, without a doubt, that she’ll go into the jungle with or without me. And she will die. The jungle, and the beasts within it, will swallow her whole.

I don’t want to carry the guilt of her death.

Gritting my fangs, I shove the thought aside as we reach the corral.

I stop and turn to her. “You’re sure about this?” I ask, my voice low. “Once we leave, there will be no turning back.”

Her eyes meet mine. “I don’t have a choice,” she says softly. “Lily doesn’t have time for me to second-guess this.”

I nod once. For a brief moment, I consider the absurdity of the situation—me, Vrok, following a human on a rescue mission that is almost certainly doomed to fail. But then she lifts her chin with stubborn determination, and I push the thought aside.

“Stay here,” I say as I quietly climb the fence and hop down into the corral.