Page 62 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
Personally, I love this quiet village, in tune with nature. Maybe someday Nov will learn to see its beauty. Hopefully? Fingers crossed?
I grab a bowl of food and climb up to check on him. I can already hear him muttering from the platform—Wounded Predator Mode: Activated.
“Good morning, dear Nov! How are you feeling today?” I ask cheerfully.
“How do you think I feel, stuck here with you, a bunch of talking lizards, and zero creature comforts while I’m injured?”
Okay. So we’re not in a good mood this morning.
“Can you be careful?! It’s like you’re trying to make my leg worse!” he snaps as I help prop him up.
“Sweet Nov, your leg was way worse when I found you, remember?”
He grumbles, full of wounded pride. I just adjust the cloth under his bandaged limb. Luckily, I’m a pro at gentle sarcasm and disarming smiles.
“You know,” I say, handing him a cup of water, “you could use this time as a chance to meditate. Reflect. Recharge.”
He glares at me like I just insulted his ancestors. Honestly, those frosty blue eyes are kind of intimidating—if you forget he’s wrapped in a blanket like a grumpy burrito.
“I don’t want reflection. I want to walk again and not rely on you.”
“Well, then you should remember I’m your ally, not your enemy. This is temporary, Nov. All it takes is a little patience.”
He exhales sharply. Score one for Sam.
But I celebrate too soon.
“I mostly remember you slicing up my leg like it was a side of meat. That’s why I’m stuck here now. You imprisoned me in this damn tree to make sure I wouldn’t escape!”
“Excuse me?! Should I have left you bleeding out on that awful planet, half-dead thanks to those disgusting traffickers?”
“Uh…”
“Or maybe I should’ve ignored your infected leg and let it rot until it needed amputation?”
He doesn’t answer. Just gives me a death glare.
He knows I had no other choice. Time to go full Sunshine Assault.
“Come on, cheer up. I’ll make soup! Something soothing with roots and spices.”
“I don’t want your tasteless soup!” he shoots back instantly.
“Oh, but Nov, it’s not for you. It’s for your mood. Which seems to be in critical condition.”
I head out before he can think of a comeback. We’re making slow progress… but it’s progress.
Later, I swing by my lab to grab some edible flower jellies I’ve been making. I’ll take them to Gekkar Creek soon. But for now—dinner for Novzilla.
Gooz is curled up in my belly pouch for his nap. I pack up two bowls and climb back to Nov’s hut.
He’s already scowling.
He eyes the bowl of vibrant berries like it’s full of nails.
“And this is supposed to feed me?” he growls.
“Nov, it’s a rustic feast! Red, yellow, blue… it’s like a rainbow you can eat!”
