Chapter 4
Kayog
Over the following two days, I attended class remotely.
Of late, my ability to tolerate the presence of others noticeably decreased.
Where I once could attend a couple of classes in a row before I needed to isolate myself, now I could barely handle a single one.
The swelling in my brain also took longer to go back down.
Thankfully, although the university didn’t know the full extent of my condition, they had given me leave to attend from home.
My assiduity and excellent grades played a significant part in that special permission.
This morning, needing to resume my training for the upcoming canoe competition—not to mention my burning urge for physical activity—I flew back to the campus very early before the masses started stomping about.
My stomach fluttered at the prospect that I might run into her.
I both hoped and dreaded seeing her. My head told me that I should stay away, but my heart strongly disagreed.
I placed the canoe in the water, did a bit of stretching, and then embarked on my craft.
It had a large open cockpit with a foam knee block upon which I knelt.
The footrest had been modified to better accommodate the shape of my bird feet.
While I didn’t hate kayak racing, I much preferred the canoe as you steered with the paddle instead of needing a rudder.
It required a lot more control, focus, and often using specific types of strokes to keep the craft moving straight—the type of challenges I loved.
I completed a first 800-meter lap, with some resistance bands on my craft and paddling at a leisurely pace to focus on my form, technique, and really establish that mind and body connection.
On the return lap, I removed the resistance bands.
I would do about thirty strokes at a set pace, before drastically increasing the speed for a short burst, then relaxing a little, and rinse repeat.
I then proceeded to a 1000-meter lap, at a leisurely pace.
Taking position for the return lap, I set the timer of my bracer, and mentally prepared during the countdown for an all-out race.
As soon as the signal went off, I paddled hard, even as I tried to pace myself so that I wouldn’t run out of steam before the finish.
Barely a hundred meters in, I felt her.
I nearly lost my focus and rhythm from shock.
The intoxicating melody intensified as she drew nearer.
The urge to scan the shore in search of her burned deep in my gut, but once more, I forced myself to stay the course.
However, any thought of properly pacing myself flew right out of my mind.
Even though I couldn’t see her, my dove had stopped by the bleachers on the east shore and was observing me.
Her emotions screamed just how impressed she was with my performance.
They also hinted at arousal and above all at her excitement and nervousness at finding me here.
The irresistible need to impress her took over any rational thought.
I pushed myself hard, showing off my strength, technique, and stamina.
My muscles and lungs started to burn, but I ignored them, too busy basking in her awe.
It wrapped around me like the silkiest fabric, taking away the pain and infusing me with a jolt of energy that spurred me on well-beyond my normal limits.
I reached the edge of the river, panting heavily.
Stepping out of my canoe on slightly wobbly legs, I puffed my feathers and fluttered my wings to create more airflow around my body and dissipate the excess heat generated by my exertion.
Sometimes, I envied other species their ability to sweat to regulate their body temperature.
For a split second, I feared she would walk away.
Her emotions loudly broadcast her hesitation as to whether she should go about her business or acknowledge me.
My heart soared when she suddenly started clapping.
Trying to act nonchalant, I calmly turned towards my dove.
As I watched her casually approach, my pulse picked up in a way unrelated to the effort I just did.
I bowed my head and did a little curtsy in thank you as she closed the distance between us.
She chuckled, the sound delicate and musical like windchimes swaying in a soft breeze.
“Impressive,” she said, stopping a short distance from me.
“Thank you,” I replied, feeling incredibly self-conscious.
As a singer and athlete, I regularly received my fair share of compliments. But coming from her was something else altogether. The sincere admiration emanating from her seriously messed me up.
“This is my first time ever seeing a Temern paddler,” she said pensively, her beautiful blue eyes going slightly out of focus as if she was searching her memory to confirm that statement.
I smiled.
“Our wings can be a serious impediment with the wind, not to mention the extra weight,” I said in a gentle tone. “It just means we must hold a perfect form and use more strength than our rivals.”
She gave me a slow once over that had my stomach quivering. It wasn’t lurid or suggestive, merely assessing and admirative. Still, it messed with my head.
“Well, you certainly do not lack in the strength department. A talented singer and a highly skilled athlete… You put the rest of us, mere mortals, to shame,” she added teasingly.
I burst out laughing, and lowered my gaze, feeling both delighted by her compliments and stupidly embarrassed. It took every ounce of my willpower not to squirm.
“Ahah, hardly. I’m sure you have your own amazing talents that have others drooling with envy,” I replied. “By the way, my name is Kayog. Kayog Voln.”
“I know,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “Everyone knows. And you also said it at the concert the other night.”
“Right, I did,” I mumbled, feeling stupid.
“I’m Linsea Kenna.”
Linsea… Beautiful name for a beautiful dove.
I wanted to sing her name at the top of my lungs, let it roll on my tongue, and savor every syllable. But I reined myself in.
“That’s a lovely name. It’s a pleasure to formally meet you,” I said.
“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied timidly.
Fuck me! Everything about that female truly did a number on me. The emotions swirling around her were quickly becoming an addiction. And that song…! The melody of her soul harmonized with mine in a way that transcended the divine. It almost felt like a physical caress to the very core of my being.
Linsea still didn’t know how much she wanted to allow herself to explore the feelings I stirred within her. And that ambivalence only poked the hunter lurking inside me that wanted to capture her.
I shouldn’t pursue her.
What future could someone as broken as I was offer her?
And yet, we were soulmates. Some way, somehow, Fate intended for us to work out.
Furthermore, turning my back on the greatest gift the universe could bestow upon anyone would be a crime.
Anyway, I was already much too hooked—not to say obsessed—to let her get away.
I turned the canoe sideways away from me, slightly bent my knees, and pulled it onto the shelf thus created by my lap. Reaching with my left hand for the portage yolk, I rolled it towards me.
“Do you need help?” Linsea exclaimed, taking a step forward, but unsure what to do.
“No, I’ve got this. But thank you,” I said gently.
I tilted the canoe and then lifted it above me before resting it on top of my head.
My palms splayed against each of the inner sides kept it steady.
Although this was the standard way I always portaged my canoe back and forth, seeing my female this impressed by the ease with which I lifted it had me preening a little.
“Wow, you really are strong!” Linsea whispered with awe, as if more to herself.
“Maybe a little,” I replied with a wink.
She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Will you walk with me?” I asked softly.
“Sure!” Linsea said, before cringing inwardly, no doubt berating herself for the overly eager way she agreed. “Someone has to make sure the most famous singer of Acadia doesn’t hurt himself carrying a huge canoe on his own.”
I snorted, impressed by her quick thinking.
Although only the smartest and elite people could enter the school, the occasional privileged brats managed to worm their way in.
Obviously, my soulmate could never be such an individual.
But this first glimpse of the skillful fashion with which she wiggled herself out of what she perceived to be an embarrassing admission piqued my curiosity.
I would greatly enjoy mentally sparring with her.
“To be honest, when I heard about you also being a top athlete, I expected you would participate in flying sports like Lazgar,” Linsea mused aloud.
Lazgar was a game invented by one of our distant kins, the Zelconians.
They were bird folks like us who lived on a primitive planet that still fell under many strict guidelines of the Prime Directive.
While the local species had not yet achieved interstellar travel, off-worlders were allowed to land on the planet and interact with the natives in a limited fashion.
The sport, which took place in a special arena with looping obstacles that shifted overtime, involved groups of twelve to twenty people.
The participants chased after Lazgar—a drone—in an attempt to capture it before the clock ran out.
The faster you caught it, the greater your score.
It had been created and named after a Zelconian brat named Lazgar who became famous for running away to dodge classes and being chased all over creation by every possible adult in town.
I smiled and nodded. “A fair assumption, and an accurate one. I actually hold the current record for the highest score.”