Page 64 of Captured By The Alien Barbarian
My world slows down as my eyes drift towards the individual who has captured everyone’s attention. The crowd parts, revealing a short, green woman leaning heavily on a cane. Her hair is a cascade of white braids down her shoulders, and she wears a simple knee-length dress along with a crude bracelet and headband.
My legs tremble and collapse beneath me.
I hear a sob, but I am unsure whether it comes from my mouth or hers.
“My dam,” I say, my forehead touching the rocky soil as I lower myself in submission before her. After all, I am her tainted son. “I beg for your forgiveness.”
A heavy weight falls upon me, and I flinch, expecting an attack—a deserved punishment from my tribe. To my surprise, arms embrace me.
Pain cuts deeper than ever as her tears fall on my neck, and she buries her face in my shoulder, sobbing. “Forgive you for what, my youngling?”
I look at her, intending to stand strong and proud before her, to show her the male I’ve become. But instead, my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes and spill onto my cheeks.
“There is nothing to forgive. There never has been.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper repeatedly, releasing the pent-up words from my youth as I cling to her.
Her body seems smaller than I remember. Where I once nestled in her arms, now I tower over her, holding her tight. She still smells of food, just like she did when I was younger. Her scent reminds me of vasarian milk hotcakes—sweet bread drizzled with honey—from my childhood. Memories resurface of trying to sneak extra cakes, only to be caught and made to help her bake new ones. Somehow, there was always extra dough.
I’ve never cried. Not in all the cycles since I left my tribe. I’ve always thought myself stronger than this. I went into the wilds and lived by myself, a self-enacted punishment for killing my father.
Never have I been more wrong.
“All these cycles I have avoided you. I’ve wasted all these cycles. My mate was right; I should have returned earlier.”
My dam withdraws, eventually ending our embrace. She dabs her cheeks, drying her tears, and lets out a weak chuckle.
“I am aware this rascal,” she nods towards Melvall, who still lingers slightly behind us, “is not your mate. So, did you bring her here to meet your old dam?”
“I mean, I could be his mate.” Melvall says behind us. “What is it about me that screams un-mateable?”
He lifts an arm and gives it a sniff. “Do I smell or something?”
My dam raises her brow at my male companion, her lips twitching with amusement.
“I’m so sorry, dam.” The words become clogged in my throat. Fresh anguish washes over me as my eyes shut tight. I’ve been trying so hard to deny it, but I have to face facts. “I’ve lost her. My mate. The humans have taken her.”
Her gentle hand strokes my cheek soothingly. I open my eyes to see her astonishing brown ones gazing at me, and I am reminded, with piercing clarity, that she understands the pain of losing a mate. There is no anger in her eyes, only a resolute assurance that I myself cannot comprehend.
“Then, my youngling, it’s time for us to bring her home.”
* * *
The shock overwhelmsme as my tribe forcefully drags Melvall and me into the community building. We are guided to sit on the floor in front of a fireplace located in the center of the room. Shortly after, a warm fire crackles, and a bowl of food is pushed into my hands. I absently gaze down at the vasarian milk hotcakes that I had so loved as a youngling.
“No, but thank you,” Melvall waves away the offered food.
Before he has a chance to change his mind, I grab for his bowl and place it in front of me. Now that the medicine has taken effect, my appetite returns. I greedily consume the hotcakes for energy, unable to savor them as I once did. I have a mate to rescue. Still, I take some comfort in that my dam makes them just as they used to taste.
While I eat, I watch Melvall courageously narrate the recent events to my tribe. Despite their apprehension towards him, they surprisingly seem more receptive to the outsider than I had anticipated.
“I will fight with you. We will get your mate back,” my brother Balroth declares resolutely.
The thought of one of my younger brothers joining me in this battle makes me uneasy, and I choke on my food. I have no knowledge of his abilities as a hunter or a warrior.
“No, you could be hurt,” I say, placing my bowl down firmly on the floor.
Beside him, Zoran snorts. “Taccit is correct, Balroth. I mean, have you seen your hunting skills? They’re as sharp as a wooden spear. Clearly, I am the better male to accompany him on this raid.”
