Page 49 of Zeke
Her breath came harder as they climbed. Her muscles burned, and sweat beaded down her spine despite the cool air. Three days of trauma and running were catching up fast.
"We need to stop." Zeke's hand found her back. "My mate needs rest."
My mate. The words sent heat straight through her.
"I'm fine," she started.
His fingers pressed against her spine. Message received. She shut up quick.
Kraath turned to assess her with those dark eyes. Whatever he saw made him nod. "There's a defensible position not far from here. Natural rock formation."
They found the spot within a few minutes… a hollow carved into the hillside, protected on three sides by stone. Kraath immediately started unpacking gear. Motion sensors appeared first, small silver discs he positioned around their perimeter.
"You came prepared," Raaze said, dropping his pack.
"Experience." Kraath activated some kind of energy shield between two trees. The barrier shimmered to life. "These territories don't forgive mistakes. I'll set the outer perimeter."
The second his footsteps faded, Raaze moved.
He went straight for Kraath's pack, hands already working the clasps. "Finally. That draanthic keeps too many secrets."
"Should you be doing that?" She asked, though she made no move to stop him.
"Someone should." Raaze yanked items out. "He's been lying since the storm. Probably before and I want to know why."
Zeke positioned himself to watch both the forest and Raaze's search. "Find anything useful?"
"Depends." Raaze held up a medical kit that looked way too advanced for field work. "Why does a garrison commander need healer-grade tech?" He stopped, head tilting. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
A leather notebook appeared, worn smooth from handling, its pages filled with neat script.
"Fucking code," he muttered. "Why can't he write like a normal person?"
She leaned closer, catching sight of the writing. Her breath caught.
"That's not code. That's Late English."
Both alien men turned to stare at her, Zeke's eyes narrowing to yellow slits.
"You can read this?"
She nodded, reaching for the book. Technical terms jumped out at her, mixed with observations. "I had to learn it for a project once." She frowned, reading slowly at first, then faster as it came back. "These are research notes. Genetic markers and..." She looked up. "This can't be right."
"What?" Zeke's voice went deadly quiet.
"According to this, he thinks there are female Izaean."
Raaze snatched the notebook back, flipping pages even though he couldn't read them. "I knew it. The tracks we've been following… some are female. Stride length, weight distribution, it's all there."
“Are you sure?” Zeke asked, arms folded over his broad chest.
The other feral fixed Zeke with a look. "I could follow a team through a monsoon and tell you what they had for breakfast three days ago, even without carrying a s’krav. These prints don't lie."
“A what?” She looked between them.
“A s’krav. It’s a ball. Raaze played warball," Zeke explained. "Before his blood rage manifested."
"Warball?"
