Page 8 of Tempted By the Alien Warrior

The thought of him stirs a bitter storm inside me. He wasn’t always the traitor they whisper about now. Once, he was a proudwarrior, a male I admired. I still remember standing in front of him as a tiny kitling, gazing up in awe at his tall, formidable figure.

But somewhere along the way, something inside him soured. He began speaking of the tribe’s failures, of how he was owed more. Was destined for more. His bitterness grew, feeding on itself, warping his once-proud spirit into something sharp and hungry. And he no longer spoke of honor as loyalty to the tribe, but loyalty tohim.

Your first allegiance is to me,he told me more than once, his grip on my shoulder like the cold claws of an anuroi digging into my flesh.

Then, not long ago, he began to disappear for short periods of time.

I tried to ignore the doubts that grew inside me, but I couldn’t keep them at bay. So, I followed him, and what I saw that night has haunted me.

He stood deep in the jungle, cloaked in shadows, and speaking in low, urgent tones with the leader of the Pugj. There was no fight. No raised voice. My father didn’t even reach for his sword. Not when he was face to face with our enemy.

I didn’t want to believe the rumors. I still don’t want to believe them, but I know better.

And now, he’s gone again.

Not just for a short time. Not just slipping away under cover of night. He’s been missing since before the sun rose, long before I stirred from sleep. My father is not a male who wakes early anymore, yet his bed was cold when I went to check, and it had obviously not been slept in. All day, I searched everywhere I could think of, but he was nowhere to be found.

And now, I’m caged in this hut, waiting.

My tribe—my family—has always been everything to me. I have fought beside them, bled beside them, protected them. Andyet, when they look at me, they don’t see a warrior. They don’t see me.

They see Jaran’s son.

Maybe this is all that’s left for me.

No matter what I do, no matter how fiercely I fought for them, it hasn’t been enough, and it will never be enough. My father’s shadow stretches too far, swallowing everything in its path, including me. They will never see me as anything other than his son.

Fighting against my fate is pointless. Perhaps, this was always how it would end.

I lean my head back against the cold stone wall, exhaling slowly. The distant sounds of celebration drift through the night air—laughter, the steady beat of drums, the hum of voices woven together in camaraderie. Life continues as if I never existed, and maybe that’s how it should be.

I should be out there, standing among them. Instead, I sit here, alone and discarded like something broken and twisted beyond recognition.

Maybe they see something in me that I refuse to see in myself. A sickness. A rotting of the spirit that festers beneath my skin, twisting into something vile and irredeemable. I cannot see it, but they can. And they were right.

I am a traitor, and I deserve this prison.

3

Emily

The medic hutfeels more cramped than ever. The space is filled with the soft rustle of fur blankets and quiet voices as everyone settles in for the night. With the arrival of the new women, space has become even tighter with single beds lined up like we’re in some sort of dormitory back on Earth.

Most of the women talk in hushed voices, their exhaustion evident. Some sit on their beds, braiding their hair or rubbing sore muscles, while others lie down, staring up at the wooden beams above them as though trying to pretend they’re somewhere else and not on an alien planet.

“I heard the chief has already sent out warriors,” Morgan says, arms crossed over her chest as she leans against the wall.

Unlike some of the other women in the hut—those who crashed with me—Morgan is one of the newcomers Mara and Sorrin’s group found. We share the same nightmare of being abducted from our planet by the Zyfeliks, but we lived through different versions of it. With her piercing dark gaze and hercommanding presence, it quickly became obvious that she is the leader of the newcomers.

“They’re going back to search the area where that big bird took Lily,” she continues, before crossing to the bed nearest to her and perching next to another newcomer, a woman with an injury she sustained just prior to being abducted.

The lime green cast she arrived in has been removed and replaced with pale, cream-colored bandages that Warrix, the tribe’s medic, said would only have to be in place for a short while longer.

No one replies right away. A few of the other women glance at each other, but the hope in their eyes is dim. The group with Mara and Sorrin searched the area before they left, and they found no signs of Lily. What makes this attempt any different?

“That thing was so big. Did you see its teeth?” one of the new women whispers to another.

I stiffen, but I don’t say anything.

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