Page 2

Her scientific curiosity warred with her survival instinct. The biologist in her couldn’t resist investigating, even as the rational part of her brain screamed warnings about predators and traps.

The cries led her to a hollow beneath the twisted roots of a massive tree, its trunk easily twenty feet in diameter.

Inside, three small creatures huddled together, their oversized eyes glowing faintly in the shadows, iridescent tears tracking down their delicate faces.

They resembled nothing she’d ever seen—somewhere between a kitten and an axolotl, with six feathery tendrils surrounding their oversized heads and skin so translucent that she could see bioluminescent organs pulsing in rhythm.

The small tendrils on their heads waved in agitation as they cried.

As she knelt beside the hollow, they quieted, three pairs of eyes turning to her.

Their huge dark eyes reflected her own image back at her.

Their coloration varied slightly—the largest was a pale blue, the middle one lavender, and the smallest a delicate pink-white that almost glowed in the dim light.

The smallest made a soft chirping sound, stretching toward her with tiny, webbed hands that featured suction-cup-like pads beneath tiny claws.

“Where’s your mother?” she whispered, scanning the area.

The nest was constructed of woven fibers and what appeared to be shed skin or scales, but what had once been carefully assembled was showing signs of damage.

There was no sign of any adult version of these creatures—just the three babies, alone in a hostile environment—and she sighed.

She’d seen this type of abandoned nest countless times in the field. Predators, disease, accidents—nature had many ways to create orphans. These little ones wouldn’t survive long without protection, especially given their apparent lack of defensive adaptations.

The smallest one crawled toward her, its markings pulsing faster as it approached, creating wave-like patterns across its translucent body. It chirped again, more insistently, hopefully.

“I can’t take you with me,” she told it, even as she reached out, letting it sniff her fingers. Its nostrils—three small openings arranged in a triangle pattern—flared as it took in her scent. “I can barely take care of myself right now.”

The creature nuzzled against her hand, its skin warm and surprisingly soft, almost velvety despite its translucent appearance.

A gentle vibration emanated from it, not unlike a cat’s purr but higher in frequency.

The other two followed, all three soon chirping and climbing onto her lap, their tiny claws carefully retracted as they moved across her torn clothing.

She sighed, feeling her resolve crumble. Whatever doubtful protection she could provide had to be better than leaving them on their own.

“Fine. I suppose you’d better come with me.”

She knew it was likely a death sentence for all of them—one injured human and three alien infants—but she couldn’t bring herself to abandon them.

She shrugged out of her jacket, wincing as the movement pulled at her wound, fresh blood seeping through the makeshift bandage.

Carefully, she wrapped the creatures inside, creating a makeshift sling that she could carry against her chest. They settled immediately, their chirping subsiding to contented purrs, their bodies molding together as if sharing warmth and comfort.

“This is insane,” she told them as she continued through the jungle, ducking under low-hanging vines that seemed to reach for her hair. “You know that, right? I’m talking to alien babies while wandering through an alien forest on an alien planet. I’ve either lost my mind or?—”

She paused, unable to formulate a rational alternative. As much as she would have liked to believe it was a hallucination or a dream, the evidence of her senses was impossible to dismiss.

A branch snapped behind her, and she froze, every muscle tensing.

The creatures in her jacket sensed her fear, their purring silenced instantly.

Slowly, she turned, scanning the crimson foliage.

Nothing moved, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

The creatures in her jacket shivered, their bioluminescence dimming to a barely perceptible glow, an instinctive response to threat.

“Just the wind,” she whispered, even though there was no wind. The air remained unnaturally still, heavy with unfamiliar scents—sweet, musky, with undertones of decay and something metallic.

The feeling persisted as she pushed deeper into the jungle.

Occasionally she caught glimpses of movement in her peripheral vision—shadows shifting where they shouldn’t, branches swaying without cause.

The forest itself seemed alive, aware, tracking her progress.

Once, she was certain she saw silver eyes gleaming from the darkness between trees, intelligent and calculating, but when she looked directly, nothing was there but the endless crimson canopy and charcoal trunks.

She stumbled on, her head pounding, her feet aching, exhaustion making each step feel as if it were weighted with lead.

Every few steps, she would look down, checking the precious cargo in her jacket, reassuring herself that they were safe and secure.

Her muscles screamed with the effort of supporting her own weight, but she pushed onward, focusing on the thought of shelter.

Somewhere in this godforsaken jungle had to be a place where she could rest.