Page 4 of Xara and the Xenobeast

He should leave. Return to his territory. The female had shelter for the night, and the pups would keep her warm. He had no further reason to stay.

Instead, he moved closer, drawn by something he couldn’t name.

CHAPTER THREE

Xara peered out into the jungle, trying not to panic at each unexplained sound. In any ecosystem, twilight brought transitions—diurnal predators returning to dens, nocturnal hunters emerging—and even though it was now fully dark, she was still tense with fear. She was under no illusions that the crude shelter she’d formed from woven vines—with some eager if xxx help from the pups—would offer much protection against a determined predator. At least it was not as dark as she’d feared.

As night fell completely, the jungle transformed. Bioluminescent flora came alive, casting the forest in ghostly pinks and purples. Flowers that had been closed during daylight opened, revealing glowing centers that pulsed in hypnotic rhythms. The moss underfoot began to emit a soft phosphorescence, creating pathways of light between the trees. Strange calls echoed through the trees—some melodic, like flutes played underwater, others harsh and grating, mechanical in their precision.

At least the stone pillar at her back was reassuring solid. Thank goodness she’d noticed the pattern the pillars formed—the geometric lines interrupting the organic chaos of the jungle too regular to be natural—before night descended. She’d pushed through a curtain of hanging vines, their surfaces sticky with sweet-smelling resin, and found herself in a small clearing dominated by ancient stone pillars, their surfaces covered in faded carvings. The stones formed a rough circle, some still standing proudly while others had toppled, reclaimed by the jungle. Vines stretched between them, heavy with what appeared to be fruit—plump, purple orbs that glistened with internal light.

The pups had squirmed excitedly at the sight of the fruit, their chirps growing louder and more insistent. Their tiny limbs had pushed against her jacket, creating moving bulges as they tried to free themselves. One squirmed free of the jacket, climbing up her arm to her shoulder, its tiny claws pricking through her shirt. It balanced there, reaching toward the nearest cluster with surprising dexterity, its feathery tendrils fluttering with excitement.

Hoping it was safe, she plucked one of the purple, pear-shaped fruits. Up close, she could see that its skin was covered in tiny, spiraling patterns that seemed to shift under her gaze. The pup snatched it from her hand, its tiny mouth expanding to reveal rows of small, flat teeth perfectly adapted for plant matter. It devoured the fruit with obvious delight, juice running down its chin, its markings pulsing with pleasure. The other two scrambled for their share, chirping demands.

She hadn’t joined them, aware that eating unknown alien fruit seemed like a recipe for disaster. Different biochemistry, different proteins, different toxins—her body might not be able to process any of it. But starvation would kill her as surely as poison, just more slowly. No harm had come to the pups sincethey’d eaten, and she pulled out one of fruit she’d pocketed, sniffing it cautiously. The scent was pleasant—like honeysuckle with a faint citrus note—and her mouth watered.

She forced herself to take the tiniest possible bite, sighing with pleasure as the juice flowed into her dry mouth and trickled down her throat. Resisting the urge to devour the entire fruit, she slowly counted to one hundred twice, checking for any sign of a reaction. Nothing. She took another bite, then counted again. After the third bite, her caution began to fade and she eagerly consumed the rest of the fruit.

She immediately reached for another one, then forced herself to wait once again, trying to distract herself by examining the carvings covering the pillars. The carvings depicted figures with elongated limbs that appeared to be engaged in some kind of ritual, arms raised toward stylized representations of the three moons. Someone built this place. Someone intelligent.

She ran her fingers over the stone, her scientific curiosity momentarily overriding her fear. These ruins were old—centuries, perhaps millennia. Erosion had softened the carvings, and plant life had established itself in the cracks and crevices. But they proved something crucial: this planet had—or once had—civilization. Perhaps even the means to send her home, if she could find living members of this species.

And assuming they were friendly.

The pups suddenly shivered and nestled closer to her, their markings pulsing in time with her heartbeat, creating a synchronized light show across their translucent bodies.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking their delicate heads with gentle fingers. Their tendrils curled around her fingers trustingly. “We’re safe here.”

The words were as much for herself as for them, a mantra against the growing dread that prickled along her spine.

A noise cut through the night—a low, wet slithering sound, like something massive dragging its bulk across the forest floor. The pups went rigid, their markings flashing in rapid pulses—warning signals. She peered through the vines of their shelter and froze.

Four yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, arranged in a diamond pattern on what appeared to be an insectoid head. The eyes moved independently of each other, scanning the clearing with predatory focus as the creature slithered into view—a nightmare fusion of centipede and scorpion, easily six feet long, its segmented body armored with chitinous plates that gleamed with an oily iridescence. Each segment bore multiple legs, jointed and tipped with wicked barbs, and massive pincers clicked at its front.

The pups began to tremble violently, their bodies pressed against her in abject terror. Their markings had dimmed to almost nothing—an evolutionary response to hide from the predator—and she clutched them closer, her mind racing. The monster hadn’t seen them yet, those yellow eyes sweeping the clearing methodically. If they stayed still, quiet?—

One of the babies let out a terrified squeal, a high-pitched sound of pure fear that cut through the night like a knife.

Fuck.

The predator’s head swiveled toward their shelter, all four eyes fixing on them as its mandibles clicked rapidly. It reared up, revealing more of its segmented underbelly and a barbed stinger at its tail end.

Swearing under her breath, she grabbed a thick branch that had fallen near their shelter, positioning herself between the pups and the approaching monster. The babies scrambled behind her legs, chirping in terror. “Stay behind me.”

The predator charged with shocking speed, its multiple legs propelling it forward in a blur of chitin and malice, and she swung the branch as hard as she could, connecting with its head. The impact jarred her arms to the shoulders, the shock of it traveling through her bones. The creature shrieked but barely slowed, shaking off the blow as if it were nothing more than an annoyance. Its pincers lashed out, catching her across the legs, slicing through fabric and skin with terrifying ease.

Pain exploded through her as she fell backward, hot and immediate. Her thigh burned where the pincers had struck, blood welling from twin gashes that ran from knee to hip. The babies squealed in terror, their tiny bodies glowing brightly now in their panic. The predator loomed over her, its pincers poised for a killing strike as she tried to push herself between it and the pups.

This is it,she thought.This is how I die. On an alien planet, eaten by a giant bug. Not publishing groundbreaking research. Not changing the scientific world. Just another organism falling to a superior predator.

A roar shattered the night—primal, thunderous, unlike anything she’d ever heard. The sound vibrated through her chest, rattling her very bones as something massive burst from the jungle in ablur of motion. Silver eyes blazed in the darkness as it collided with the predator, driving it away from her with such force that both creatures rolled across the clearing, smashing into one of the fallen pillars.

She caught glimpses of the battle through waves of pain—claws tearing through chitin, sending fragments flying. A massive humanoid form moving with lethal grace, muscles rippling beneath metallic skin. The predator fought back, its pincers snapping, its stinger jabbing repeatedly, but it was outmatched by the newcomer’s raw power and speed. Blood of different colors mingled on the stone floor—black from the insectoid creature, silvery-blue from her savior.

With a final, brutal movement, her savior tore the predator’s head from its body, chitin cracking and fluid spraying in an arc that glistened in the bioluminescent light. He stood over his kill, chest heaving, and let out a roar that shook the ancient pillars, a victory cry that echoed through the jungle and silenced all other sounds.

She tried to speak, to thank him, but darkness was creeping in at the edges of her vision. The world tilted and spun, blood loss and shock taking their toll. She was vaguely aware of the pups chirping anxiously around her, of warm blood soaking through her torn pants, pooling beneath her on the ancient stone, and then the world went dark.

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