Chapter 1
Chapter One
Planet of Vora
Five years later
Surrounded by unnamed fauna and flora, Ziamee pumped her legs to catch up to Padya’s disappearing shoulders. He navigated the narrow footpath like he’d lived here forever.
A caw made her duck, her heart racing. A weight pressed on her, a sense of timelessness.
Sure, she should’ve been focused on her studies, but when survival was critical, she barely got in four hours a day.
Padya said she was learning from the environment, but Mudya insisted Ziamee learn as much as she could before they lost Oz, too.
She brushed aside long, yellow fronds. They smacked at her, but she dodged them, giggling as she did so.
‘Wasay’ Padya had named it. Vora wasn’t too far from where their home planet had once been—destroyed in the Great Purge—the unknown disease called Nevid the Unseen had forced the Durns’ hand.
Such were her bedtime stories of an ancient season when the superior Durns had existed.
They’d carried the knowledge of generations from planet to planet across galaxies. Most of that data was lost now.
Padya said it was on them to forge on, to restart the legacy. They were on their own, more so since no one had responded to their beacon in all these years.
She raised her gaze, finding she was alone on the path. Angling her head didn’t help her ears to catch his familiar tread.
“Padya?” She hurried ahead, her voice cracking. He’d said to assume everything wanted to kill her, so she shouldn’t loiter.
She rounded a green-barked tree that offered a lengthy strip of shade and bumped into Padya’s back. He stood still, unmoving, not once glancing at her.
“Go home,” he whispered, nudging her away with the slowest of movements.
The hair on the back of her neck rose. She peered around him.
Her blood iced. Her breathing stuck in her throat, and all thoughts scattered.
Dominating the route to the lake crouched a massive creature, the tips of its ears reaching her collarbone.
Two tails swished in agitation, both matching the length of its body.
Six paws thumped the ground, and four angry eyes glowed pink, narrowed to slits.
A forked tongue flicked past sharp incisors on its upper and lower jaw.
Four arrow-shaped ears twitched in all directions.
And yet, its soft white fur rippled, tempting her to bury her fingers in it.
It roared, deafening her and sending bolts of adrenaline through her. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but her knees locked.
“Ziamee,” Padya hissed.
Fear had her frozen, but his voice quivering with it snapped her out of the daze.
She bolted.
And in an instant realized it was the worst thing she could’ve done. Padya said not to startle creatures they knew so little about.
Its rumbling growl evolved into a heart-piercing wail.
She peeked behind her just as something slammed her to the ground.
Hitting it hard, she barely registered the stings from scrapes and bruises.
Pain merged into agony as it pummeled her.
A whimper slipped free when wet fire gripped her thigh, and the world around her tilted.
It had her in its mouth and was shaking her.
She caught glimpses of Padya with his phaser in hand, shifting it back and forth when the creature moved. It was too much, the pain pulsing up her leg. She gritted her teeth and ignored the tears as she twisted to smack it, trying to get it to drop her.
Make it stop.
Don’t hurt it.
She warred with herself, unable to choose what to yell at Padya, nor could she pry her jaw apart to speak.
Spots circled her vision. She struggled to breathe.
Then she was free, landing on the ground with a jarring thump before tumbling down the pathway.
Wasay slapped at her in passing. Where she stopped, she stayed.
Her mind begged her to sprint to the Haile, to safety.
But her body refused to budge as if her muscles had forgotten how to flex and stretch.
Her thumping heartbeat slowed to normal, then to a crawl.
The scents of rock, plants, and her blood permeated the air.
And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to climb to her feet.
“Little one?” Padya knelt beside her, bringing with him a great overwhelming relief.
“I have you.” When he gathered her into his arms, the sharp shards of sheer burning agony lashed at her again.
Her locked jaw would only allow her to whimper.
He whispered words of encouragement as he carried her home.
The scenery passed in a blur. Her nose burned. Pain flowed into her head and made her thoughts sluggish. She had a vague memory of an unmoving creature, a phaser burn in its shoulder.
“You…killed it?” she managed when he brought her into the cool confines of their broken ship.
“Oz, what do we do?” Padya raised his chin to the ceiling. Many lights flickered in their last death throes.
“Boil water, clean the wound. A mixture of huib and meric will slow the bleeding and neutralize any contaminants.”
Sprawled across Padya’s desk, atop his sketches and notes, she lay there, not daring to move.
The pulsing agony was more bearable in this position.
She squeezed her eyes shut when he left the ship, his steps frantic.
He bellowed for Mudya, but Ziamee doubted her mother would hear.
She’d traveled northeast of the lake, searching for a deep magenta flower.
“Cut off her leggings,” Oz said when Padya returned and began crushing leaves and roots into a pulp.
He was a flurry of activity, bringing things, leaving, returning, then the smell of wood smoke tickled her nose.
Cool air on her thigh made her sigh, then she screamed when fresh fire tore through her leg.
The sensation morphed into a cold like snow.
She mewled, clenched her fingers into fists, and forced herself to stay still.
The urge to squirm tested her strength, draining her will.
In and out of consciousness, she weaved, snippets of reality registering.
Padya’s face in her line of vision kept her grounded. He told her a story she couldn’t recall and asked her to list the scientific elements or recite a poem she’d been studying. Her brain was almost clear, the pain a dull ache, when he wrapped her wound with wasay leaves.
“She will live,” Oz announced. “With a scar.”
“Yes,” Padya muttered, draping a blanket over her. He glared at the section of the ship that had once held the medical bay. Now a wall of rock fused the ship to the planet. There was no way the Haile could fly again. Which meant a rescue was their only way of getting off Vora.
Padya left, his steady gait fading. Rain fell, hitting the exterior of the ship and echoing through it.
She dozed, only waking up when the pain dragged her to consciousness.
Padya was there, drenched in blood, a bowl of soup in hand.
The delicate aroma of meat made her stomach gurgle.
How odd. Padya didn’t believe he needed to kill to eat. Mudya did.
He set it beside Ziamee and helped her to sit.
She cradled the bowl, relishing the heat soaking into her palms. “Where’s Mudya?” A sip drew a groan from her, the hot liquid exploding warmth from her belly outward. She shivered, surprised she was chilled to the bone.
“She has yet to return,” he said, casting a glance at the horizon.
Ziamee stilled. “She can’t stay out there… Not after dark.”
“I know, little one.” Sadness darkened her father’s face. “Finish your meal. I’ll wait for her.” He grabbed a toweling cloth and left.
With her belly full and her eyelids drooping, she studied what she could see of her thigh. The wasay leaves were soft, their texture mesmerizing, especially when she dragged her finger in a certain direction.
Oz had said she’d live. But with Mudya missing, a sob snuck out, and she swallowed to hold back another. She had to be more careful. Her heart constricted. If Padya didn’t find Mudya, then Ziamee’s death would leave him alone. She couldn’t do that to him.
Clenching her jaw, she lay back and waited.
When he strolled in, clean, his dirty garments bundled in one hand, he offered her a smile despite the shadows under his eyes.
“I cannot see her. Perhaps she’ll find a high place to spend the night.
” He cast a glance at the setting sun. “I’m sorry, little one.
I should’ve been more vigilant.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her to her pallet.
Sitting cross-legged beside her, he dictated to Oz his findings and thoughts for the day, making sure to detail everything from type, color, texture, and in some instances, like with the wasay, behavior.
They’d been stranded on another world not their planned destination, and yet, her parents’ passion for knowledge didn’t waiver. His warm voice lulled her to sleep.
It was only on day four that she got a good look at her wound; the mangled muscles and tissue proved how severe the attack had been. Tears formed streaks where the creature had scraped its teeth. The skin around it was raw but not inflamed. Oz said that was a good thing.
Mudya had yet to return. Ziamee cried herself to sleep, biting her forearm to smother the sobs.
Trapped in bed, she hadn’t been able to help Padya.
After he’d gone to search again, she’d managed to limp to a nearby bush with blue flowers called taisra.
When she crushed the petals, they formed an oil that eased the itchiness and pain.
That night, Padya let her sit around the fire. The stars in the dark sky were brighter than normal. His footsteps approached from the lake, and when he reached her, he placed a squirming bundle on her lap.
She dug her fingers into its thick white fur. “What—”
“I killed its mother.” He bowed his head in prayer, like he did when something had died at his hand.
She blinked at a wide face, its pink eyes reminiscent of the mythological Vlok–a dragon-like creature Padya had told her about. But this was no lizard species. Its snout was velvety and its mouth filled with tiny incisors. Here in her arms was a creature without its mother, like her.
“You should name it,” Padya said, turning strips of fish so the fire wouldn’t burn them.
“Seba,” she said, rubbing it behind the ears.
Padya chuckled despite his exhaustion. “I meant the species.”
“Oh.” She smiled and brought the cub up for a cuddle. It mewled and buried itself in the curve of her neck. “Seba and I will decide.”
The following morning, she managed to limp to the lake’s shore, then lingered on the edge of the sinking sands.
She couldn’t cross it in her current condition, nor would she without her mother’s guidance.
She eyed the webbed trees, shadows playing in the depths of the forest. In her mind, she imagined Mudya emerging, unharmed, her bright smile beautiful in the soft sunlight.
“The Sandpits of Baisadha, what do you think?” Padya came to stand beside Ziamee.
“It’s as good a name as any,” she said. “How far did you make it?” She gestured to the stone scattered on one side.
He grimaced. “Halfway. I swear the path shifts.” He crouched, peering across the sand’s surface. “I’ve stared at it for so long that I can almost see it ripple.”
Seba popped his head out of her tunic.
Padya yelped and toppled over, sprawling on the ground. A slow laugh began until he guffawed. Tears streamed, but in the end, when his humor dwindled, she wasn’t sure those weren’t tears of sorrow.
“Do we have any ceaza?” she asked, burying her fingers into Seba’s fur.
His purr vibrated through her, offering her comfort.
Padya’s eyes widened. “He can’t be hungry again.”
She cuddled her friend close. “He’s growing,” she said, giving him a kiss.
Padya scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off. “Come, let us feed him then.”
She cast a last glance at the forest and the eyes peering at her from the dense depths. “Mudya,” she whispered, then with careful movements, she limped after her father.