Page 48 of Emerald

I glance at the half-finished drawing on the floor, the swirling maori design glaring up at me. Fertility. I almost laugh at the absurdity. But the laugh dies in my throat. The truth is, my body is reacting in ways I don't understand, and the more I try to ignore it, the worse it gets.

Kroaicho has been… nice enough. Well, as nice as a massive kidnapping alien can be, I suppose. But it's still keeping me here, watching me like a hawk, and I can't help but wonder what it wants. The thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

14

Kroaicho

Ineededtogainspace again, my mind still whirling with all of the new concepts and strange ideas that have entered my life along with the best——and absolute worst——addition to my hoard I have ever made. The only reliable cure for anything is finding a new item to add to the stash, and so I tunneled into new territory.

It took a while to get through the final layer of rocks and I’m concerned I made too much noise for too long in my haste to replace this… odd feeling I have.

I listen carefully before slowly moving my head out of the tunnel I have dug so I can scan the surrounding forest. Hearing nothing, I move higher, becoming more confident until I realize that it’s far too quiet for the upper world.

My skin swirls purple and blue as I try to decide what to do. After the time spent with Olivia, I have nothing to show for my efforts today. Nothing amazing to add to my pitiful hoard. The need to expand it keeps me in place, undecided.

A crack of foliage behind me makes me whip around. There is a flash of blue. Some giant beast, I realize. Far too large to fit in my tunnel and so I don’t retreat right away. Then I notice the black figure on top of it as it runs toward me.

A human, I realize, though with pink hair instead of green like Olivia’s. From the look on the human’s face, the coloring doesn’t match zha’s mood any more than Olivia’s.

Then I see the weapon in zha’s hand, quickly being raised and hastily shift back into the hole I just dug.

“Wait!” the human yells out in the same language as Olivia. “Just giveherup, youbastard.”

I pause for a moment, and then decide to keep moving. Soon after, there is a explosion of rock right where my head was and I start moving faster.

“Youfucker. I am going tofuckingkill—”

I don’t know what other threats the human makes. Zha’s voice is drowned out by the sound of rocks falling as I collapse the tunnel behind me. I cave in two more sections before I feel safe again.

They can’t get to my hoard.

I press my palms to the rough, damp stone beneath me, feeling the jagged edges scrape lightly against the softer undersides of my fingers. The cave yawns ahead, darker now, the further I push into it. The air is thick with an acrid tang, and it sticks to my skin, my nostrils flaring as I take another cautious breath.

I shift my weight to all six limbs, keeping my longer arms poised, fingers flexing unconsciously. My senses sharpen, catching the scent again—something unsettling, primal, buried beneath the mineral staleness of the cave. It's been following me for a while now, this creeping dread.

Yet, despite it, I find my thoughts drifting elsewhere.

Olivia.

The thought of zha comes unbidden, and with it, the familiar irritation blooms within me. My skin flares a deep shade of purple, a brief flicker of color that I quickly smother. I should not be thinking of zha. My focus should be on the cave, on potential treasures, not on the strange human who seems to have lodged in my life with reckless abandon.

But even as I try to force my attention back to the task at hand, Olivia's image lingers, zha's sudden mood swings flashing in my memory. One moment compliant, the next, yelling. A zhasie is not meant to endure such volatility. We evolved to thrive on efficiency, unburdened by complex emotions or illogical attachments. One zhann and one zhannel, not whatever it is that has become of my hoard. Self-sufficiency is our legacy, honed through countless cycles of evolution.

So why do I feel this? Why does the very thought of leaving zha alone in the cave claw at my mind, digging deeper into my consciousness as if it were some vital, primal urge? I have never feared losing any one item of my hoard as much as this moment.

It isn’t right.

I let out a low, frustrated click, my tusks pressing against the inside of my lips. This… nonsense… is starting to terrify me. There's no reason—none at all—for me to be concerned about Olivia. It's illogical. Ridiculous.

I pause for a moment, settling back on my hind limbs, using one of my upper arms to rub the back of my neck, easing the tension. I can't afford to lose focus, not now. The further I stray from the area of the cave that I've claimed, the more dangerous it becomes. I should be worrying about myself, not the human. Yet, despite myself, I can't help but acknowledge the truth gnawing at me: Olivia's survival instincts leave much to be desired.

My skin shifts, this time tinged faintly red with the memory of zha’s last attempted escape—if one could even call it that. The silly thing had barely made it anywhere, collapsing in exhaustion mere moments from a treacherous pitfall. The image of zha sprawled on the cave floor, oblivious to the danger around zha, flares in my mind, and I suppress a shudder.

I force myself to move again, walking deeper into the cave system, using the rhythmic thud of my limbs against the stone to drown out the persistent thoughts of Olivia. My focus sharpens as I move further into unfamiliar territory, and soon, the walls around me shift, revealing a new portion of the cave.

The crystals catch my attention immediately.

I halt, momentarily taken aback by their gleaming surface, their fractal patterns capturing what little light seeps into this part of the cave. They're made from a dense, crystalline rock, something I haven't encountered in this system before. I reach out with one of my larger hands, my fingers grazing the cool surface. It's beautiful. Rare. Worthy of my hoard.

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