Page 8 of Tharn’s Hunt (Barbarians of the Dust #2)
He makes that clicking sound again, then reaches for something else—a small pouch. From it, he extracts a set of leaves that he crushes in his palm. The scent that rises is strongly herbal, and I recognize it as the same plant matter he’d put on my leg. He gestures to my head, then to the paste.
"Medicine?" I ask, pointing to my temple where the headache pounds the hardest. Maybe it will help the fever, too, which seems to be rising again.
He tilts his head to the side in a way that comes off not as confusion but as affirmation, and I realize with a start that while he may not understand my words, he's been understanding plenty.
"Okay," I say cautiously.
I watch as he dips a finger into the paste, then pauses, holding it toward my mouth, not my temple.
I recoil slightly. "Wait, I'm supposed to eat that?"
He makes a soft, insistent sound, still offering the paste-covered finger. The hesitation in his eyes is unexpected. He’s…asking consent with his gaze.
I sigh. "Fine. But if I croak, I demand a tombstone that reads: ‘Here lies Jacqui — should’ve stuck to trust issues.’"
He doesn’t get my joke, of course, and I’m just too weak and woozy to laugh.
I open my mouth, and he carefully places the medicine on my tongue.
The moment his finger brushes my lips, that strange light ripples beneath his golden skin, pulsing outward from the point of contact.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't pull away this time.
If anything, his movements become even gentler, more precise.
The paste is bitter and earthy, with an underlying spice that burns slightly. I swallow quickly, fighting the urge to gag. Almost immediately, it tingles pleasantly down my throat, then a cooling sensation spreads through my entire being.
“I probably shouldn’t have eaten that,” I murmur, resting my head back. “If I die, it will be my own damn fault.”
The alien watches me intently, his golden eyes shifting over my face. I brace for worse pain, for my stomach to revolt…
Instead, second by second, the jackhammer in my temples slows its rhythm, until it's a bearable throb.
"Wow, it's..." I blink in surprise. "Actually helping."
He studies my face, searching for confirmation. I nod, offering a small smile of gratitude.
The moment my lips stretch, his gaze snaps to the movement. For a moment, he stills, then the transformation in his expression is unmistakable. His shoulders relax, the severe line of his mouth softening.
He’s pleased by my approval.
The sight almost makes me chuckle.
I reach for the waterskin, needing to wash away the taste of that bitter medicine. The water is still cool, and I drink deeply. When I lower it, I find him watching me with that same fascinated intensity. Another one of those strange shivers goes through me.
"You're staring again," I point out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
He doesn't look away. Instead, he points to the ray meat, then to me, then makes a motion like he's growing stronger.
"Yes, I need to eat more," I agree, accepting another strip of the pale flesh. It's better than it looks, and my body is desperate for the energy.
As I bite in, I notice the way he keeps checking that I'm eating, that the paste is helping my head.
This isn't just a random alien who found me in the desert. This is someone who's made a decision to help me. To care for me, even.
Why?
The question burns in my mind as I finish another strip of meat. What does he want?
"We need to go," I say again, gesturing to the cave entrance. "Justine. My sister." I point to myself, then mimic another person next to me. "Sister."
He tilts his head, considering. Then he points to the food, to me, and makes a motion like drinking.
"Yes, I get it. Eat, drink, get stronger." I sigh. "But we need to find?—"
A low, sharp click cuts through the cave, echoing off the stone walls. My eyes widen on him, even when some part of my brain knows it's not from Goldilocks.
His entire body snaps rigid, claws unsheathing to full lethal length. His pupils slit to needle-thin black lines in the amber- gold, every muscle locking as he whirls toward the cave entrance.
For one terrifying heartbeat, he's transformed.
The creature before me isn't the same one who carefully offered water. Who hunted and prepared food for me. Who treated my wound with such gentleness.
No—this is what he looks like when he means it.
That wasn't him being aggressive with me earlier.
That was him playing nice.
Every inch of him screams violence. His shoulders tense like coiled springs, and he snarls, giving me full view of his razor teeth.
The sound comes again, closer this time, before it branches into a staccato rhythm. It’s a sound that makes a cold tendril of fear wrap itself around my spine.
I remember that sound. From the night I was chased by the shadow creatures.
It’s them. They’ve found me here.
Goldilocks moves with shocking speed, positioning himself directly between me and the entrance. His body blocks my view completely, a living shield of muscle and lethal intent.
I grab my weapon, fingers tightening around the handle. My headache is still there, the fever is still there, but fear sends fresh adrenaline surging through me.
"D-do you think it can get up h-here?" I whisper, hating how my voice trembles.
He doesn't answer. Doesn’t need to. The shadow that falls across the cave entrance tells me everything I need to know.
It’s here.
And it's hungry.