Page 88 of Exiles on Earth
I glance at Ilia, whose head is still lowered. “It’s been a long few days,” I try. “Ilia’s probably exhausted and overwhelmed.”
‘He said he’s unworthy, but if Rex picked him, he’s not unworthy. He saved Rex and then me!’
I hug her. She has a whole new lease of life, looking so much healthier as well as ethereal.
“How fascinating,” Imaya says. I’ve forgotten all about our little audience of Imaya and her harem.
Imaya explains, “Starhound litters can take the form of the local fauna to blend in, their nature suppressed until they return to space again. Your companion was undergoing her transformation.”
‘I am sorry I worried you. I didn’t know what was happening until I woke and Rex told me everything.’ Floss licks my hand.
I scratch her chin in the way I know she loves. My dog’s descended from starhounds, adventurers across space. Amazing.
Her new piercing purple eyes study mine. ‘Now I’ve unlocked my true nature, I will no longer age.’ She turns her head to the other dog, tail wagging slightly. Then she looks up at me. ‘We will come back and help you.’
“Help me? What, at my farm?” My mind boggles. “But you’re a space traveler! It’s hard work on a farm.”
‘But rewarding. I know the job and I love it, love seeing how happy it makes you. You love what you do.’ She wags her tail. ‘You and he are well-matched. Ah, his name is Ilia. I see it now.’
I gulp. How much can Floss actually see into my head? Her tongue lolls in answer, doggie laughter.
I take a deep breath of the warm, fragrant air and raise an eyebrow at Ilia. “Let’s talk.”
“At once.” Ilia leads the way out past the guy glaring at him—what was this dude’s problem?—and gestures for me to go first. The hounds push by us and trot ahead, claws clacking on the steel floor of the corridors.
“Right. So. You said before, these are travelers.”
“Yes. A species who enjoys exploring but has not invented their own means of travel, preferring to roam in caravan with others.”
‘It’s interesting,’ Floss says in my mind. ‘But my mate wants to see Earth and learn a new way of life.’
“I can’t believe you’d want to settle on Earth,” I tell her.
Ilia stops dead next to me. “Why not?”
I gesture to the dogs—no, starhounds. “Why wouldn’t they want to travel the galaxy if they could?”
“Because you’re on Earth,” he says simply.
Oh, those eyes, focusing on me like I’m the only thing on this magical, futuristic world.
But he told me the one thing he wanted was to compete in the Mating Games to find a female. And he saidgoodbye to me on the ship, but ever since, he’s acting like he’s trying to reach me.
I wish he would tell me exactly what he wants. I can’t make that choice for him.
“Let’s get you back for the Games,” I suggest.
He doesn’t protest, doesn’t say he’d rather stay with me. “Okay,” he murmurs.
“Hey, you’re getting better with using that word. Good job,” I say, through my thickening throat.
Because now I’ve got Floss and she’s okay and she wants to come with me, I have nothing to wait for here. I should go home. Today.
As dawn lightensthe alien sky, Ilia drives us back to the oasis called Sanctuary. Floss sits between me and Ilia, while Rex rides up front, back rigid. Guess he’s sore from Ilia rejecting him or, rather, himself, believing he’s not worthy. Their tongues loll as they taste the air, for all the world like dogs rather than hyper-intelligent space farers.
Just as we leave the garage, a crackle snaps above us, summer lightning racing across the sky. Warm rain patters on the foliage, bouncing off the leaves and spraying my bare arms. I have no idea where any of the corridors are to get out of the downpour, but I don’t want to return to the sterile safety of the compound. Back to being responsible and standing aside, waiting for some female to scoop Ilia up.
Rubbing away the sudden sting in my eyes, I pause to collect my breath. Otherwise, I’m going to dissolve into tears. Ilia keeps pace with me as we explore the newly transformed courtyard, while Floss and Rex race on ahead, and every step resonatesinside my chest. One more step with him. One more closer to the time we have to part.
