Page 6 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
They’re both shorter than Mom—not by much, but definitely smaller than most adult humans. Actually, most of the Gekkaris here are pretty small. They almost look like teenagers, but without hair, which used to make me giggle a lot at the beginning.
Their skin is covered in tiny flexible scales, but you only notice them if you look up close. The girls are a bit slimmer thanthe boys. They have big, dark eyes and five fingers like we do, but theirs end in soft, flexible pads that help them climb anything.
I really wish I could do that, but I have to stick with the rope ladder to get up to our room. They also have long, thin tails that help them balance when they move, climb, or jump. Mom says it works kind of like a counterweight to keep them steady.
We follow the two women into the village. It’s so quiet here—like the forest itself is holding its breath. The Gekkaris don’t speak with words, and even though they can hear a bit, we’re expected to follow their customs. That means only using words when we really need to. Mostly, we let the sounds of nature do the talking. “No pointless chatter,” as Mom likes to remind me.
It annoyed me a lot at first. But I got used to it. Now I use my hands and my body to show thanks, or when I’m tired and want to rest, or when I need something.
This village is nothing like the one I grew up in. Back home, our buildings are close together on the dry plains of Gekkaria’s equator.
But here? The trees are the houses. They’re massive—each with a single thick trunk, about ten feet across, smooth to the touch with no rough bark. At a certain height, the pinkish trunk stops suddenly, and huge fronds fan out in every direction, glowing with purples and deep violets. It looks like a living crown in the sky.
These forest giants are everywhere, and the Gekkaris weave branches together at the top to form domes they call tree-homes—or “cases,” as they say. Inside, it’s simple: just a bed of leaves for sleeping. They don’t wear clothes, so there’s no need for closets or storage.
They made a tree-home just for Mom and me when we visit. We reach it using a rope ladder like the one hanging from every Gekkaris home. Inside, it’s a little cozier than theirs. We havethicker bedding, and Mom brought some storage boxes over time to keep a few things here permanently.
“Aw-ai, da flowahs’ weady fo pickin!” Mila exclaims, her hands moving in big gestures as yellow and orange patterns spread across her body.
That big toothless grin means she’s excited.
“Looks like the flowers are ready for picking, right?” Mom asks to confirm.
“Ba!” Mila confirms.
I remember the conversation—something about a rare flower near a river to the north that blooms only once in a while. Mila promised to wait for us so she could show us how to harvest it the right way—so we don’t damage the roots and it can bloom again later.
We follow Mila and Lina back to our tree-home to drop off our things. I race up the ladder and stash our bags, then climb down as fast as I can.
When I get back down, I’m thrilled to see Goulou and Flea waiting for us. They’re probably around my age—though it’s hard to tell for sure. The Gekkaris don’t care much about things like birthdays. I only guessed because the three of us train together with Mom! And they’re way more lively and expressive than Mila or Lina.
Since they started joining our plant workshops, Mom’s also been teaching them sign language and basic spoken sounds. We don’t talk about it openly, but Mom and I think Goulou is a boy and Flea is a girl. Gekkaris don’t have visible gender traits, and most of the time, you can only tell by size or posture. With younger ones, it’s even harder.
“Goulou! Flea! Hi!” I say, signing the words carefully as I speak them.
“Za’man’da!” they reply as best they can.
Our little group sets out, heading north toward the river. The forest gets denser and deeper in color—shades of purple and violet all around us. There are no homes here, just wild trees swaying gently in the wind. The breeze rustling through the giant fronds makes a soft hum that almost sounds like a song.
I spot a few familiar plants along the way—herbs and bushes Lina taught us how to gather—but that’s not what we’re here for today.
After what feels like forever, we finally arrive. A dark green river snakes quietly along the base of a deep orange cliff. On the banks, bright mushrooms and colorful flowers grow in thick clusters. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to be harvesting, but before anyone explains, the Gekkaris leap into the water without hesitation!
As always, Mom and I copy them—but not before we take off our fitted bodysuits. We swim just like they do—naked and free.
The water is perfect—cool and refreshing after the long hike. Lina, Mila, and Mom get out pretty quickly, but Goulou, Flea, and I splash around a little longer, laughing and playing.
When we finally come out, Flea points to my chest, where my new breasts are just starting to show.
“Nol’mal?” she asks curiously.
“Yes, it’s normal,” I answer, trying to sound casual.
Still, I can’t help blushing. I catch Mom’s sympathetic look. Even surrounded by a gender-neutral species, I’m still a teenager with a body that’s changing fast. From now on, I think I’ll keep my bodysuit on when we swim.
We spend the next hour following Mila and Lina’s careful example, gathering delicate pink petals and placing them gently in a soft woven pouch. But after a while, Flea, Goulou, and I start to get bored.
When a bright yellow insect zips past us, we chase it just for fun. The grown-ups let us go—they know it’s hard to keep teens focused for long.
