Page 48 of Captured By The Alien Barbarian
Sad? Maybe homesick is a better word. “I was just thinking about my friends,” I say. “We usually hang out every couple of days, but now... they’re probably worried sick. Especially Maya. She never admits it, but she’s a worrier.”
Taccit studies me intently. What could be going on in that alien brain of his? Finally, he asks, “She is a kind female, then?”
I nod, gesturing over to my bow and arrows hanging on the wall—all her handiwork. She had made them for me when she found out I was going to be forced to live outside of the colony’s walls.
“She made me that. Designed it herself. I still remember when she gave it to me. She was so nervous about me liking her gift. She came up with some excuse about me helping her test it to make sure it worked. Yet she never once asked me if it did work, because she knew it would.”
I laugh, remembering her apprehensive face. And she had mastered the bow before ever passing it on—testing for safety, no doubt. She opened and closed it so effortlessly, with an elegant motion that still takes me forever to mimic.
Taccit gives me a warm smile.
“With time and practice, you will be just as skilled,” he says.
He takes a deep breath and looks at me for a long moment. The words gush out of him, almost like he had been trying to hold them in. “But you don’t need to worry. I will do everything I can to protect you.”
A tender moment stretches between us. I duck my head, feeling my cheeks grow warm. This isn’t just some guy spewing nonsense to woo me or sound impressive in front of his buddies. Taccit genuinely means to do whatever it takes to keep me safe.
It’s a weird feeling to wrap my head around, knowing that Taccit would risk so much for little old me.
“Did you know my people called the colony Eve’s Rest?” I ask, with the casualness of someone discussing the weather. No, I’m not changing the topic... much.
“I do not know the meaning of the word ‘eve’,” he replies.
“It was named after a friend. She was one of the first humans to land on the planet. She basically picked where we’d build everything.” A bitter laugh slips out. “She never even got to see us build it, though.”
Taccit gives me an inquisitive look. “What happened? Was she ill?”
I shake my head.
“No, they found her campsite. Some beasts had attacked, and...” A lump forms in my throat. Tears prick my eyes. “They didn’t even find her body. We didn’t get to bury her. All because some stupid beast attacked her.”
My voice trails off, and I wrap the covers around me like they’re magically going to keep all the bad memories at bay. The memory of the shreem attack lingers in my mind, but it’s hazy now. All I remember are teeth, and lots of them. It will take some time before I come to terms with being brutally attacked by wild animals.
“My people call this area Bol Nora. I do not know why. Multiple tribes make their homes here. You can go further, beyond the sands… but the tribes there are different. I’ve never traveled that far.”
We settle into silence, each lost in our own thoughts.
“I’d like to keep practicing with my bow,” I say with determination. I never want to be caught unarmed and without protection again. I vow to learn to defend myself so that anxiety doesn’t flood my veins every time I think about stepping outside the cave. It’s still a chore to even go to my garden, and some days I have chickened out entirely. I don’t want to live my entire life like this.
It’s funny to realize that I’m no longer afraid of Taccit. In fact, when he’s with me, I feel safe. With him close by, I don’t even think about bringing my bow along when leaving the cave.
The silence between Taccit and me stretches. It feels awkward. Undoubtedly, he thinks I’m rejecting his offer of protection. Am I? It seemed so significant for him to declare. His disappointment is almost heartbreaking to see—like watching someone’s soul shrink right before they hide all emotion.
At this moment, I feel so alone that I don’t know what to make of everything. Beneath all my actions, fear simmers like boiling water.
“There will come a time when you master your bow. If you were one of my people, then we would give you your markings... but it does not seem your people display your accomplishments like mine,” Taccit says thoughtfully.
Unlike his usual lust-hungry expression, he appears disappointed once again. As if I let him down just by being human.
“Do your markings mean that much to you?” I ask softly.
He nods. “It identifies you for who you are. Every bitter season, I reapply the dyes. Normally, your tribe members would apply the dyes for you...” Taccit glares at the fire, his jaw clenched as if he’s reliving some painful memories. Unsure of how else to comfort him, I crawl over and place my hand gently on his knee. “I’m sorry, Taccit. Is there really no way you can go home? Talk to your family about what happened?”
Taccit snorts, amused. Swiftly, he lifts me up and plops me onto his lap. He lets me settle in before wrapping his arms around me, burying his face in my hair. “I do not know, Nika. I haven’t truly tried to talk to them for many, many cycles. Still, they always accept the offerings from my hunts.”
We fall silent, entranced by the fire. Taccit’s tight embrace lessens, and he starts to caress my arms. I’m drifting off to sleep when he asks, “How do your people know their tribe without markings? Or someone’s skills?”
Battling sleepiness, I try to gather my scattered thoughts. It’d be all too easy to just fall asleep right now and not answer him. “My markings? Oh. We don’t have tribes anymore. Some humans get tattoos like your markings. Most of the time, when we are awarded for a skill, we get a bit of paper as proof. If we do something amazing, we might get a medal. That’s a bit of metal and a cloth ribbon. I’ve never gotten one of those, though.”
