Page 31 of Captured By The Alien Barbarian
A warm smile creeps across my face as I busy myself firing my one and only arrow again and again. The closest tree trunk takes quite the beating, the white bark splitting and peeling back after the repeated strikes. Dark sap starts to ooze out, trickling down the trunk in a suspiciously creepy manner.
I can only hope that this tree doesn’t mean anything special to Taccit. I can’t help but imagine him popping up, livid because I’ve inadvertently wounded his favorite tree.
My bow skills have come a long way, but my arrow inventory has not. I really miss having more ammo. I really hate having to walk to collect my one arrow each and every time I make a shot. It’s worse when I miss my target and it flies endlessly into the brush. I wonder if Taccit knows how to make more, and if he’d be willing to teach me. I hate relying on others.
I’m so focused on practicing my aim that when some nearby bushes rustle, I practically jump ten feet off the ground. I swing my bow to aim at the noise, hating how my hands start to shake. But I stand my ground—it could just be a small creature, right? I refuse to be driven from my home.
Home? When did this cave become home?
I snap back to reality as the bushes shake and whatever is hiding inside takes another step closer. It doesn’t try to hide its presence, so I deduce it must be a large predator. Fantastic.
My breathing turns shallow, small pants that risk leaving me light-headed.
Taccit appears, looking as stunned as I do when he stops just a few feet in front of me, mid-step. All I can muster is, “What the bloody hell?”
Blood streams down one of his arms in rivulets, dripping nonchalantly from his hand. It’s smeared across his chest like he’d given a bear a hug, and there’s even a handprint slapped onto one of his pecs, leaving a red trail.
Taccit recovers more quickly than I do. Lifting his wounded arm, he points at me with a bloodied finger and says, “Mate, you have a tendency to point your weapons at me. Will you please lower it before one of us gets hurt?”
“I...” My gaze shifts from the gore to my bow, realizing that I haven’t lowered it at all. So much for my ability to protect myself when my first instinct is just to freeze up like a rabbit.
“Sorry.” I blink a few times, struggling to process everything in front of me. My brain is suddenly a sloth, trying to work its way through a muddy situation. I feel as if I stare at Taccit for ages in wide-eyed disbelief while my brain yells at me to do something. Anything.
“Nika?”
And then, as if someone hits the fast-forward button, all the panic and adrenaline crashes into me with force. My heart pounds against my chest as if it wants to break free, and I gasp for air as if I am drowning. My body buzzes with a prickly, nerve-jangling energy.
“Oh my God.” I say. “You’re hurt!”
I lurch towards him, dropping my bow in the process. My hands shake as I reach out, torn between wanting to help and fearing I’ll only make it worse since I am not exactly a trauma surgeon. Not going to lie, I have never seen someone so grievously injured.
Taccit’s eyes soften. “Relax, my Nika. I am fine.”
“How?” I say. “How is this fine? There’s so much blood!”
My hands gingerly clutch his elbow as I hold him steady to inspect the damage. Despite the crimson mess, there’s only one visible wound. His skin blisters around a long gash. Not as deep as I feared, but definitely angry and painful.
What could have possibly made that wound? It’s not just slashed into his skin, but burnt it in the process.
“Taccit, have you been shot?” The words feel numb on my lips. “Did someone shoot you with a laser pistol?”
This is one of those times that I wish my friend Stacy was here. She’s good with medicine and healing, and all that. Me? I’m lucky that I haven’t passed out, to be honest. Everyone has fight or flight tendencies, and mine lean towards faint when it comes to blood.
He raises an eyebrow, more intrigued than concerned. “Is that what that weapon was? I have never come across such a weapon before. I will have to be wary of it in the future.”
Yep, okay. Taccit just makes that statement like he’s remembering he doesn’t like the taste of vinegar, not like it’s something that could kill him with one shot. Literally. Mental note: avoid laser pistols in the future. Pretty solid plan, that.
I feel a mix of nausea and disbelief at the thought of Taccit getting shot. He had no idea what he was up against and doesn’t grasp just how lucky he is to be standing here.
Taccit chuckles and shrugs as if there is no wound on his arm at all, like it must not hurt like hell.
“It’s barely a scratch. I already used the medicine. I did not mean to scare you. It should be healed completely by tonight. Here, I have something for you.”
He extracts a bag from one of his back belt loops and dangles it in front of me with a touch of pride.
I gawk at the bag, recognizing the silvery sparkle of the fabric and the unmistakable logo.
“Are those?” I say, choking back tears. Even covered in a bloody handprint, I clutch it like a cherished teddy bear. “They’re seeds!”
