Page 28 of Survivor
I nodded, my heart swelling with gratitude as I reached out to touch the healer’s forearm, feeling her soft fur beneath my fingertips. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking with emotion.
The healer stared at where we touched for a moment, her expression unreadable, before issuing a small, tender chitter that seemed to vibrate through my very soul. Her other hand patted me atop the head, a gesture so maternal and comforting that my heart swelled with emotion.
Ceeka gave my father a few more chittered instructions, which he acknowledged with a solemn nod but did not translate. Once she departed, the treehouse seemed to exhale, the tension draining away like water through leaves. A profound stillness settled around us, broken only by the mournful scrape of wooden chair legs against the rough-hewn floorboards as Vysar dragged his seat beside Lucy’s bed, his frame sinking into it as he prepared for our vigil.
We remained enveloped in silence for what felt like hours. The only sounds punctuating the heavy air were Lucy’s labored, raspy breathing and the gentle whisper of my thumb makingrhythmic circles across the back of her clammy hand, which I clutched desperately in mine.
“She will be all right,” Vysar insisted, his voice soft but firm as he leaned forward to ensure the damp cloth draped over Lucy’s torso remained cool against her burning skin. “The goddess is not cruel. She would not have blessed you with such a precious gift, only to snatch it away.”
I swallowed hard against the knot of fear in my throat. I wanted more than anything to believe he was right—needed to believe it with every fiber of my being. I watched the shallow rise and fall of Lucy’s chest and silently pleaded with any deity who might be listening to spare my mate.
Chapter 13
Lucy
I woke to the melodious symphony of birds heralding the dawn, their cheerful chorus piercing through my dreams. That was the trouble with living in the treehouse. The feathered alarm clocks perched far too close, stubbornly refusing to let anyone savor the luxury of sleeping in.
My body felt heavy with exhaustion, eyes gritty and muscles lethargic as though I’d been swimming through molasses. A dull ache throbbed in my leg. I’d clearly slept too long, but the more pressing question lingering in my mind—why wasn’t I nestled against Vraxxan’s warm body?
I forced my reluctant eyelids open, wincing as golden streams of late morning light flooded through the uncovered windows, making my eyes water with their brilliance.
Vraxxan sat beside me in one of the intricately carved wooden chairs, a testament to his father’s craftsmanship. His posture depicted bone-deep exhaustion: broad shoulders slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed low. Yet something else about him seemed different, a change I couldn’t quite identify through my hazy consciousness.
I attempted to shift for a better look, but the movement sent a ripple of pain cascading along my leg, tearing a gasp from my lips.
Vraxxan’s head jerked up instantly, his teal eyes wide with concern—an expression that softened visibly when he realized I was awake and watching him.
“You’re awake,” he breathed, the words carrying the weight of anxious waiting.
I tried to speak, but my parched throat produced only a raspy squeak. He reached for a pitcher on the bedside table, pouring crystal-clear water into a wooden cup. When my trembling fingers proved too weak to hold it, Vraxxan gently cradled the back of my head, his touch impossibly gentle as he held the cup to my lips. I drank greedily, my eyes tracing the contours of his muscular arm to his torso, and then—
Holy shit!
The brilliant teal and purple scales that had adorned his body were gone, replaced by shimmering obsidian scales that covered him entirely, catching the sunlight like polished onyx.
“You shifted!” I exclaimed, my voice still rough despite the water. I attempted to sit up, but my body betrayed me, debility washing over me like I hadn’t felt since my last round of chemo.
“Shhh, be still, my sweet. You need rest.” Vraxxan’s warm, strong hands pressed gently against my shoulders, easing me back onto the mattress. Relief shone in his bright teal eyes, but redness rimmed them, and the scales beneath were puffy. While I felt as though I’d slept for an eternity, he looked as if he hadn’t closed his eyes in days.
“What happened?” I whispered, reluctantly acknowledging the profound weakness coursing through my body.
“What do you remember?” Vraxxan settled back into his chair, his hands sliding down my arms to envelop mine, his touch a comforting anchor.
I searched through the fog of my memories, finding patches of clarity amid the haze.
“I remember being with you by the creek,” I said, a smile blooming on my lips. Vraxxan’s answering smile mirrored mine, both of us lost momentarily in the recollection of passionate moments.
The mist in my mind began to clear, and another memory emerged. “We were walking back to the treehouse. You went to check your snares while I picked fruit.” Suddenly, the image of the beast burst through the fog with terrifying clarity, making me flinch involuntarily. “That thing... the alligator T-Rex!”
“Alligator T-Rex?” Vraxxan’s brow furrowed before understanding dawned. “Oh, you mean the quasat.“
“It tried to eat me and....” Panic rose in my chest as the memories flooded back, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. “You fought it. I thought it had killed you, and....”
“Shhh.“ Vraxxan soothed, his hands tenderly cupping my face as he pressed a feather-light kiss to my forehead. “It’s okay, my heart. The quasat is dead.”
“How?” I asked, not wanting gruesome details but needing to understand. My last memory had been of Vraxxan lying broken and bloodied on the ground, with me not faring much better. The phantom sensation of the quasat’s claw tearing into my flesh made me shudder violently.
“I killed it,” he said simply.
