Page 2 of The Twelve Nights of Halloheen

Their light revealed a familiar Talin, on his back with the gorg on top of him. The Talin was working his dagger between the armor plates surrounding the gorg’s thick neck. It was the only place gorgs were vulnerable, but the Talin was forced to let the gorg chew on his other arm to get access to the spot. Not that the gorg was having much luck getting past the sharp quills bristling down the Talin’s forearm.

Blasted by the light of three healthy walking-torches, the gorg screamed in pain and jumped off him. Before the Talin could even sit up, the dangerous beast disappeared into the dark, misty forest.

Unlike her, Talins were uniquely designed to combat gorgs, or any other deadly beast, with or without a walking torch. Except for a few spots, Talin’s were covered in a natural armor made of overlapping keratin plates.

Along with their plated skin, they had claws on their hands and long, sharp quills on their forearms, several of which the gorg had broken off this warrior. Evolution had designed Talins to be tough and apparently gorg-resistant!

And somehow this male had found himself in this section of forest right when she needed him. Seeing the warrior examining the arm the gorg had tried to eat, Isla realized she needed to get moving. This was her fault and she had to do her best to fix it!

Chapter 2

Isla’s guide to The Twelve Nights of Halloheen (Excerpt)

There is no right or perfect way to do any of the celebrations. If we’re celebrating at all, it means we survived another year. Good for us!

Isla

Isla rushed to the Talin’s side, easily recognizing this male now that he was illumined by the walking-torches. “Tisuran! That was amazing. I can’t believe you went up against a fully grown gorg!”

“Are you injured, little Isla?” he asked, as he raked his gaze over her crouched form.

As with all Talins, Tisuran didn’t smile or frown. His face wasn’t designed to display emotions. Their species didn’t have visible facial expressions. They lacked the muscles to move the corners of their thin-lipped mouths up or down, crinkle the edges of their eyes, or wrinkle their foreheads as a human mightdo. That wasn’t where their differences with humans ended. They also didn’t have much of a nose, only a slight ridge with slits for nostrils, and they had small holes on either side of their head for ears.

Talins might not have developed facial expression to display emotions, but they’d evolved chestboxes they could rumble out of and armored back plates running down their spines they could slap together to make a rattling sound, like the deafening one Tisuran had sounded as he’d fearlessly attacked the gorg! Or the rumble he was making now that sounded a lot like the purr from an Old Earth cat.

“Are you too traumatized to answer me?” Tisuran asked, opening his arms for her as he purred. “Here, let me hold you until you feel better.”

“Me?” she screeched, ignoring his invitation to hug. Instead, she grabbed his arm to examine where the gorg had tried to chew on him. The sight of the slight indentations in the keratin plates on Tisuran’s arm and the broken quills swamped Isla with guilt. She’d caused that.

Tears filled her eyes, making her feel equally dumb and overly dramatic. She was quick to wipe them away with one arm as she pointed to his marred arm with the other.

“That’s not nothing,” she insisted, unable to look away from the marks left by the gorg.

“I’m uninjured,” he answered. “The quills will grow back and the plates aren’t permanently damaged.”

“You could have internal injuries,” she argued. “We need to get back to the compound. Can you walk? You can lean on me.”

When she looked up, she found the bright, rich amber of his eyes focused on hers. While she wouldn’t call the Talins pretty, Tisuran’s eyes were definitely captivating. She could stare into them for ages and never truly figure out how to describe their color.

“I’m a better warrior than any gorg,” Tisuran scoffed. “A moment longer and my dagger would’ve been sunk deep into the beast’s neck. It’s too bad the walking-torches arrived and spoiled my fun.”

“Yup, sure, right,” Isla agreed, bobbling her head around, feeling the impulse to both laugh and cry at the same time. “Big warrior tough. Mighty warrior not need help. He fine.”

The clinking-marbles sound of amusement rumbled out of him, interrupting his purr. “Are you teasing me, little Isla?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “You were the one on the bottom of the gorg-Talin pile! It’s okay to admit you might have gotten a little hurt. For a moment you were a chew toy.” Okay, she might have sounded a little hysterical, but she’d never get the image out of her head of the gorg’s mouth chomping down on Tisuran’s arm.

“I would ask for help if there was an issue,” he answered. “The military teaches us that a warrior who won’t admit to injuries is a danger to everyone.”

Enough moisture had gathered into her hair to cause rivulets down her face, making her realize the mist had gotten even thicker if that was possible. Rustling in the forest around them might be other gorgs or harmless little creatures.

Or vampires. She wasn’t ready to rule out vampires.

Isla tugged at Tisuran’s arm. “If you can walk, we should probably go.”

“I agree, making our way back is an excellent idea,” he murmured, his deep voice gentle as his purr got a little louder. But still, he didn’t move. “You never answered my question. Are you hurt?”

Isla shook her head. That movement caused her long, ebony hair to come loose from the bun she’d put it in before setting off. Letting go of Tisuran’s arm, she gathered the long tresses andre-secured them using a convenient twig, her hands shaking the entire time. Tisuran watched her move as if looking for injury.

---