Page 65 of Charmed By the Alien Warrior

Isabella walks on my other side, her eyes flicking to our joined hands. With a grin, she sings under her breath, “Another one bites the dust.”

I laugh before asking her, “Have you seen any sign of the other women?”

Her teasing smile fades. “Not yet. But Vrenner thinks they’re close. The devices on the Ancestors’ Ship showed evidence of another ship entering the atmosphere at the same time as ours and that it crashed somewhere near here.”

Inside the old chief’s hut, a small fire crackles in a stone fire pit, its smoke rising through a gaping hole in the roof. The flames cast a warm orange glow over the weathered walls, pushing back the chill that seeps into the space. The scent of roasting meat fills the air, making my stomach growl.

We gather around the fire, each of us claiming a spot on worn furs that have been arranged in a loose circle. I settle beside Sorrin, and his hand immediately finds mine. His thumbtraces a slow circle on the back of my hand that somehow soothes and excites me at the same time.

For a moment, I let my eyes close as I take in the warmth of the cheery fire, the sound of laughter and conversation around me, and the steady, comforting presence of the man beside me. I feel like I can finally take a deep breath again, something I don’t think I’ve done in years. That ever-present feeling of dread that has followed me around is gone, and instead, it’s been replaced with hope.

As we pass around waterskins and tear into chunks of the tender, flavorful meat, Sorrin and I take turns recounting the events of the past few days. I fill them in on everything I learned in the Tussoll village, while he details the battle at the Ancestors’ Ship, recounting every arrogant boast Sevvern made before his death.

The fire crackles as we speak and the flames dance across the faces of our friends as they listen intently, their eyes wide with shock.

When I finish, Vrenner leans forward, a grim look on his face. “So, it’s true. Haavor has joined forces with the Pugj to eliminate our tribe and any others who will stand up to them. All so the Pugj can control the planet without interference, while Haavor believes they will let him play king of the remaining Laediriians…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head in sadness.

“And they know there are females on Laedirissae,” Sorrin finishes for him. “They plan to use the females to entice warriors to join their cause.”

A heavy silence settles, and then the others begin to speak, detailing their journey to the village. After the ambush bythe Pugj, their trip was relatively uneventful, though not without moments of tension.

“It’s strange, though,” Yarik, who has mostly been quiet until now, speaks up, his brow ridge drawn low over his eyes. “There seemed to be Pugj fighters and warriors everywhere, more than we’ve ever seen in one area. We managed to evade them, but just barely.”

“Were they searching for something? Maybe us?” I wonder.

Before anyone can answer, the sound of shuffling footsteps at the doorway makes me jump, my heart pounding in my chest. Sorrin rises and pulls a long knife out all in one smooth motion as the other warriors stand and brandish various weapons.

“They were looking for us,” A hoarse voice speaks from the shadows outside the hut.

A figure steps into the light, its frame hunched under the weight of exhaustion and her eyes darting around anxiously as they land on each big warrior and their deadly weapons. Another figure, this one shorter, but with shoulders pulled back in defiance is right behind her. In their hands, they each hold makeshift spears carved out of thick sticks and topped with sharp metal pieces that look so similar to the ones we made after we crashed on this planet.

The firelight dances over their faces, revealing startlingly familiar features. Rounded ears, smooth ridge-less skin, and blunt teeth.

The realization slams into me with the force of a thunderclap. They’rehuman. I’ve grown so used to the seamlessway the Laediriians’ language melds with my understanding that I didn’t even notice it at first, but she was speaking English.

It has to be them—unless there are more humans wandering around this planet than we realized. I almost can’t believe my eyes, but they’re actually here. And they appear to be unharmed. Well, for the most part.

For a moment, I can only stare. Disbelief wars with relief as I take them in. The two women look like they’ve been through hell and back again. Dark circles bruise the skin beneath their eyes, their faces are drawn and weary, and their clothes are torn and caked with dirt. But it’s their eyes that stop me—the same familiar spark of defiance that I see every time I look at my friends.

The taller one shifts, her gaze scanning each of us, lingering on the weapons that are drawn and ready. She raises her hands in a cautious gesture of surrender, the spear in her hand held loosely as if she wants to make sure the guys know she isn’t a threat.

She studies me and Isabella. “We’re not here to fight. We heard you speaking, and then, we saw you. You’re human. Like us, right?” There’s an unmistakable question in her voice, as if she’s having a difficult time believing we’re real.

Before either of us can answer, she continues, “But you’re not scared of them. Why?” Her eyes narrow as she nods toward the Laediriian warriors.

Isabella and I share a look, then I clear my throat and answer. “We’re humans, like you.” I glance at the warriors who have by now sheathed their weapons, but still stand alert, watching and listening. “And they’re not a threat to us. They’re our friends. Our tribe.”

And I realize that I’m telling the truth. These alien warriors have become our tribe. My tribe.

The two women remain rooted in place, their gazes darting between us and the warriors. The disbelief on their faces mirrors the same distrust I felt when I first arrived here. For a long moment, no one speaks. The silence stretches between us, tense and uncertain, and I can feel the weight of so many unasked questions pressing down on all of us.

Then the quiet is broken by the unmistakable growl of a stomach. The shorter woman’s hand flies to her midsection, and even from this distance, I can see her cheeks turn crimson even as her gaze flickers to the platter of leftover meat near the fire. The hunger in her eyes—in both of their eyes—is unmistakable.

Sorrin moves slowly, settling back down onto the fur beside me. He nods to the other warriors, who slowly lower their guard and reclaim their spots around the fire.

“Come,” he says, his voice low and inviting. “Join us.” His smile is warm, easing the tension just a bit.

The two women exchange wary glances before stepping closer, drawn toward the warmth of the fire and the smell of food. We hand them waterskins and chunks of roasted meat, which they take eagerly. They devour each bite as if it’s the first meal they’ve had in days. And based on their appearance, it very well could be.

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