Page 29 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

R haal crouched at the edge of the ridge, the frigid wind ruffling his white fur.

Below, nestled against the mountainside, the hidden entrance to the lab was barely visible—a testament to the offworlders’ skill at concealment.

His claws dug into the snow as he sketched a crude map, outlining the internal layout he had memorized during his reconnaissance.

“The main lab is here,” he growled, carving a deep circle in the snow.

“Three chambers extending outward, like this.” His claw sliced through the pristine white surface, creating a rough floor plan.

“They have taken samples from our sacred waters, our plants, our fish. They seek the source of sothiti.”

Around him, a dozen warriors huddled in the gathering twilight. Their massive forms, nearly invisible against the snow, were unnaturally still. Only their glowing eyes betrayed their presence, burning with cold fury in the deepening shadows.

Njkall stood directly across from him and Broc was at his right hand, his face a mask of stone, his grip on his staff white-knuckled with tension.

“How many?” Njkall asked, his deep voice barely audible above the wind.

“Twelve scientists. Five guards with energy weapons.” Rhaal’s lips curled back from his fangs. “They are soft. Unprepared. They believe their technology makes them untouchable.”

A low, collective growl rumbled from the assembled warriors. These offworlders had not just invaded their territory—they had desecrated their most sacred ground, polluted their waters, and threatened their most valuable resource. Worse, they had defiled the resting place of their dead.

One of the scouts approached, dropping silently into their circle. “Elder, I have found their transport. A small landing field on the plateau above the lab.” He pointed to a flat expanse further up the mountainside. “Two small ships. Four more guards.”

Njkall nodded, absorbing this information. His glowing eyes narrowed as he studied the map Rhaal had drawn, then lifted to the darkening sky.

“We strike at full dark,” he declared, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. “Two teams. Rhaal will lead the main force into the lab through the sacred caves. I will take four warriors to destroy their ships and cut off their escape.”

He looked around the circle, meeting each warrior’s eyes in turn. “Remember—no technology within the sacred caves. Claws and fangs only. We will not compound their desecration with our own.”

The warriors nodded, understanding. To bring weapons of metal or energy into the sacred burial grounds would be to dishonor their ancestors.

“Outside, we use these.” Njkall gestured to several small, egg-shaped devices laid carefully on a hide cloth. “Explosives. They will bring down the mountainside on their landing field. It will appear as a natural avalanche. Nothing to raise suspicion.”

Rhaal studied the devices with distaste. He understood the necessity, but the use of offworld technology, even for this purpose, felt wrong.

“The poison they dump in our waters kills slowly,” Njkall continued, his voice hardening.

“The scientists themselves must be eliminated quickly, cleanly. Their bodies and all traces of their work will be removed from the sacred caves and placed in the Dead Cave to the east. It is far from the water source.”

The warriors began to disperse, preparing for the attack. Rhaal remained crouched by his snow map, his mind racing through contingencies, visualizing each step of the assault.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up to find Broc standing over him, his face solemn in the fading light.

“I will be at your side,” Broc said simply.

The words carried weight far beyond their simple meaning. This was not just about the coming battle. This was forgiveness, acceptance, brotherhood restored.

He rose to his full height, facing the male who had once been like a brother to him. “For Ayla,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

“For Ayla,” Broc agreed. “And for your mate and cub.”

As the warriors moved into position, he paused at the edge of the ridge. He turned back, looking toward the distant mountains that concealed the clan caves—that concealed Yasmin. The setting sun painted the snow in shades of blood and fire, a fitting omen for what was to come.

He made a fierce, silent promise to her, to their unborn cub. He would not fail this time. He would protect what was his. He would return.

The descent into the valley was swift and silent. The warriors moved like shadows across the snow, their white fur rendering them nearly invisible in the deepening darkness. They reached the hidden entrance without incident, slipping past the camouflaged barrier with ease.

Inside, the tunnel sloped downward, the natural rock gradually giving way to a polished, manufactured corridor.

The sterile smell of the lab—chemicals, recycled air, offworld materials—burned in his sensitive nostrils, a stark contrast to the sacred scent of the burial caves that should have permeated this place.

The warriors spread out according to the plan, moving to their assigned positions throughout the lab complex. He and Broc took point, leading the way toward the main laboratory where the majority of the scientists would be working.

As they passed through the sacred burial section, he felt a wave of rage wash over him.

The offworlders had cut through the ancient stone with laser precision, installing support beams and conduits with no regard for the sanctity of the space.

Ancient carvings had been defaced, burial niches disturbed.

He knew without looking that Ayla’s resting place was just beyond the next bend in the tunnel. The thought of strangers passing her grave daily, treating it as nothing more than an inconvenient feature of the landscape, made his blood boil.

Beside him, Broc’s breathing had become labored, not from exertion but from suppressed fury. His grip on his staff was so tight that his claws had pierced his own palm, dark blood dripping silently onto the polished floor.

“Steady,” he murmured, so quietly that only Broc could hear. “Soon.”

They reached the final bend before the main lab. The warriors pressed themselves against the walls, waiting. He caught Broc’s eye and saw his own rage reflected there, but also something else—a grim satisfaction. They were united again, brothers in purpose if not in blood.

“I have your back,” Broc whispered, the words a sacred vow between warriors.

Before he could respond, a distant boom shook the tunnel, followed by another, and another. Dust sifted down from the ceiling. Njkall’s team had begun their assault on the landing field.

Alarms blared throughout the complex. Shouts of confusion echoed from the lab ahead.

“Now,” he snarled, and they surged forward.

The battle was as swift and brutal as he had expected.

The scientists, soft and unprepared, barely had time to register the nightmare of white fur and glowing eyes before they were overwhelmed.

The guards put up more resistance, their energy weapons leaving scorch marks on the walls and searing the fur of two warriors, but they too fell quickly to superior numbers and ferocity.

He moved through the chaos with cold precision, his massive claws finding vulnerable throats and bellies with surgical accuracy.

He felt no pleasure in the killing, only a grim sense of justice being served.

These were not worthy opponents; they were desecrators who had threatened everything he held dear.

In less than ten minutes, it was over. The lab was silent except for the heavy breathing of the warriors and the hiss of damaged equipment. Bodies lay sprawled across workstations and floors, their blood a stark contrast to the sterile white surfaces.

“Gather everything,” he ordered, his voice steady despite the carnage. “All samples, all data storage, all equipment. Nothing remains.”

The warriors moved efficiently, collecting the bodies and the contents of the lab. They worked in silence, their movements precise and respectful despite their grim task. This was not a place for celebration or battle cries. This was sacred ground, defiled and now being cleansed.

They carried their burdens through the tunnels to the Dead Cave, a natural chamber far from the underground river and the burial grounds. It was a fitting place for the remains of those who had shown such disrespect for the dead—a cold, lightless hole where nothing grew and no water flowed.

When the lab had been stripped bare, he led the warriors back toward the entrance. As they passed through the burial section, he and Broc paused near Ayla’s niche. The others continued on, giving them a moment of privacy.

He placed his palm against the stone, feeling the faint warmth that always seemed to emanate from this place. Beside him, Broc did the same, his head bowed.

“We have protected your rest, sister,” he said quietly. “No more strangers will pass this way.”

“Sleep well, my mate,” Broc added, his voice thick with emotion.

They stood in silence for a moment longer, then turned away. The past was at peace. It was time to secure the future.

Outside, the night air was bitter cold, a welcome relief after the sterile warmth of the lab. Njkall and his team were waiting, their mission complete. The plateau above was now a chaos of broken rock and snow, the landing field and ships buried beneath tons of debris.

“It is done,” Njkall declared. “One final task remains.”

At his signal, a warrior pressed a trigger.

Deep within the lab entrance, a muffled explosion rumbled.

The mountainside shuddered, and then the entrance collapsed in on itself, sealing the tunnel permanently.

To any observers, it would appear that a natural rockslide had claimed both the landing field and the lab entrance.

“Our ancestors will sleep undisturbed,” Njkall said with satisfaction. “And our waters will run clean again.”

The warriors began the journey back to the clan caves, moving swiftly through the night. The battle-tension was draining from them, replaced by a quiet pride. They had done what was necessary to protect their people, their resources, and their sacred traditions.

He found himself walking beside Broc, their pace matched despite Broc’s limp. There was a new ease between them, a comfortable silence that spoke of reconciliation more eloquently than words.

“Your mate is strong,” Broc said suddenly. “Stronger than she appears.”

He nodded, thinking of Yasmin’s quiet resilience, her unwavering acceptance of him despite his past, his differences, his flaws. “Yes.”

“Ayla would have liked her,” Broc continued, his voice soft with memory. “She always said you needed someone who could see past your growling.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, surprising him. It had been years since he had laughed about anything related to Ayla. “She did say that.”

They walked in silence for a while longer, the snow crunching beneath their feet, the stars cold and brilliant overhead.

“I am going to ask Talvi to be my mate,” Broc said suddenly. “She has been… kind to me.”

“I’m glad,” he said sincerely.

“When you are ready, you should bring your mate to our hearth. Talvi would welcome her. And… I would welcome you, brother.”

The word hung in the air between them, more precious than any formal declaration of forgiveness.

His throat tightened. “We would be honored,” he managed.

As the lights of the clan caves appeared in the distance, he felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. He had protected his people. He had avenged his sister. He had regained his brother. And now he was returning to his mate, to the future they would build together.

For the first time in years, he was coming home not as an exile, but as a warrior, a brother, a mate.

He was coming home whole.