7. Daisy
Daisy
Iwake to the sound of children's laughter.
For a moment, still caught between sleep and waking, I think I'm back on Earth — that I fell asleep at the office after a long shift, listening kids in the family shelter downstairs.
Then I open my eyes and see pale orange skin and shimmering green hair, and reality crashes back.
Jungle planet. Telepathic twins. Handsome blue-skinned alien warrior who makes my heart race.
Right.
Riz and Davi are sitting up next to me, engaged in what appears to be a silent conversation — their lips aren't moving, but they keep giggling and shooting glances at Hakan, who's tending the fire at the cave entrance.
*Good morning,* they send in unison when they notice I'm awake. *We let you sleep. Hakan said you needed rest.*
"Thank you," I mutter, sitting up and immediately regretting it as every muscle in my body screams in protest. Running through an alien jungle apparently works muscles I didn't even know I had.
Hakan looks toward me, and I'm struck again by how the morning light makes his blue skin seem to glow. "How do you feel?"
“Oh, terrific. Like’s it a typical Tuesday."
The corner of his mouth twitches, the closest thing to a smile I've seen from him. "Your humor is intact. That's a good sign."
“A coping mechanism. I have a lot to cope with." I sit up and stretch carefully, wincing. "Please tell me there's water."
He brings me a wooden container. The water is cool and clean, and I drink gratefully.
The boys inch closer. *Daisy, what’s your planet like?* Riz asks.
“It's...." How do I even begin to describe Earth to alien children? "It's beautiful. We have oceans and mountains and forests. Cities full of people. Though nothing like this jungle."
*Do you miss it?*
The answer should be simple. Of course I miss Earth. It's my home.
Except when I search my feelings, what I find is ... complicated.
"I miss some things," I say carefully. "My apartment. Coffee. Indoor plumbing. But…."
*But not as much as you expected,* Davi finishes, reading my thoughts.
"Yeah. Not as much as I expected."
Hakan is listening with an expression I can't quite read. "The craft from my farm will arrive in a few hours. We'll wait here until then. The rest will be good for us.”
“Works for me,” I say, grateful that I won’t be spending another day slogging through more jungle.
Hakan approaches with a skewer of freshly grilled meat. “Eat.”
“Thank you,” I say, realizing how hungry I am.
We lock eyes for a moment as he hands me the food. His concern is stirring something within me that I haven’f felt in quite some time.
Handsome and attentive is truly a killer combination….
I tear into the meat with gusto, savoring every bite. When I finally Iook up, I realize the boys are smiling at me.
“Your thoughts are so obvious,” Davi says.
“You’re practically yelling,” Riz adds.
Oh my God, what are they hearing inside my head?
“Everything,” Davi says, laughing again.
“Boys,” I say, trying to keep myself from either chastising them or laughing with them — I can’t quite figure out which I want to do more. “Rooting around in my head is not appreciated.”
“We’re not rooting,” Riz says. “You’re just really loud.”
“Then teach me how to be quiet,” I shoot back.
The boys’ eyes light up. “You want us to teach you?”
“Yes!”
“Grandfather taught us. We can teach you.”
“Good,” I say, pleased to see how excited they are. “But I want you to keep in mind that I have no idea how any of this works. I didn't even know telepathy was real until yesterday."
*Shielding’s kind of hard at first,” Davi says, “but you can do it.*
The boys scoot over and sit in front of me, side by side. “We have to hold hands,” Davi says.
I take their hands in mine. *Think of it like closing a door,* Riz says. *Your thoughts are in a room. Right now the door is wide open. We’re outside and can hear everything.*
“Okay,” I say, unsure how to respond. “Let’s go with that. My mind is like a room, and right now the door is open.”
*You need to imagine the door closing,* Davi adds. *Picture it in your mind.*
I try. I really do. But every time I think I'm making progress, one of the boys giggles.
*You're still thinking very loudly about how Hakan looks without a shirt,* Riz informs me, clearly amused.
Heat floods my face. "I am not!"
*You are,* Davi agrees. *You want to know what his skin feels like. If it's as smooth as it looks. Whether those muscles are as hard as they — *
"Okay!" I cut him off, mortified. "Clearly I need more practice with this shielding thing."
*You shouldn’t worry so much,* Riz says kindly, suddenly coming across as wise beyond his years. *Pretty much everyone thinks about stuff like that. It's natural.*
“But still gross,” Davi adds.
“Yeah, totally gross,” Riz says with a laugh.
I almost laugh myself, but manage to avoid that. ”Thank you, my nine-year-old thought counselors. You’re making me feel so much better."
They both giggle, and despite my embarrassment, I can't help but smile. These boys have been through hell, and yet they can still laugh and find joy in teasing an awkward human about her inconvenient attraction to a blue alien warrior.
Children are resilient. I've seen it countless times in my work — kids surviving impossible situations and somehow coming out the other side still capable of hope, of laughter, of love.
Watching Riz and Davi, I feel that familiar fierce protectiveness surge in my chest. Whatever happens, I'm going to make sure these boys get the childhood they deserve.
*We like you,* Davi sends suddenly, his mental voice warm. *We're glad Hakan found you.*
"I'm glad he found me too."
*He was very scared when he saw the Virdathians hurting you,* Riz says. *His thoughts about that are loud and angry.*
"Really?"
*He thought: 'If they harm one hair on her head, I'll tear them apart.'*
The casual way Riz relays this makes my breath catch. Hakan thought that? About me?
*And then later,* Davi adds, *when we were running, he kept thinking about how brave you were. How strong. How he needed to protect you.*
"Stop reading his thoughts," I say weakly. “They're private."
*We're not trying to,* Riz protests. *He's just very loud. Like you.*
Before I can respond, Hakan appears at the cave entrance. “How is your shield training progressing?”
“Not great,” I say.
“Yeah, she’s still really loud,” Riz concurs.
“But she can get better,” Davi adds.
“Hakan,” Davi says, “can we go outside?”
Hakan nods. “Yes, the area around the cave should be fine.”
The boys get to their feet and cautiously approach the cave entrance.
“If you’d like,” Hakan says, “I can show you some defensive moves.”
“You can train us?” Riz says eagerly.
“If you’d like that, yes.”
“Yes!” Davi exclaims.
With a smile, I follow the boys and Hakan out of the cave into a nearby clearing.
Hakan starts with the basics, showing the boys how to pay attention to their surroundings. “What we know, what we sense, what we perceive comes from every sense we possession — sight, sound, taste, touch, temperature, thought. Listen to the jungle. What do you sense?”
“I hear a bird,” Riz says.
“I feel the sun on my skin,” Davi says.
“I smell flowers blooming.”
“Good, boys, good,” Hakan says, pleased. “What we perceive is our foundation. From there, we choose our stance.”
The boys frown. “Stance?”
“If we need to protect ourselves, our stance is defensive.”
“Oh,” Riz says. “Okay.”
"Your center of gravity is lower than mine," he tells them. "That's an advantage. Use it. Stay low, stay balanced."
He shows them a simple defensive stance, which both boys mimic with fierce concentration.
*Like this?* Riz asks, adjusting his position.
"Better. Wider stance. You want to be stable.”
I watch from the edge of the clearing, struck by how natural Hakan is with them. He's not just teaching them moves — he's building their confidence, showing them they have power even though they're small.
"Now," Hakan says, "I'm going to come at you slowly. I want you to practice the dodge I showed you. Ready?"
The boys nod, their faces set with determination.
Hakan moves toward Riz first, telegraphing his movements so the boy can see them coming. Riz tries to dodge but moves too late, and Hakan's hand gently taps his shoulder.
"Good try. You hesitated. Trust your instincts. Again."
They practice for nearly an hour, and I watch the boys gradually improve. They started out uncertain, fumbling, but their movements are growing more confident. More precise.
"Excellent," Hakan says when Davi successfully dodges three times in a row. "You're learning quickly."
The pride in the boys' faces is beautiful to see.
*This is fun,* Riz sends, his mental voice bright with happiness. *We've never trained like this before.*
Watching them, I feel my throat tighten with emotion. This is exactly what the boys need. Not just safety, but focus. Not just protection, but tools to protect themselves.
And Hakan is giving them that.
After training, the boys are energized but thirsty, so Hakan sends them to get water from the stream — close enough that he can see them, far enough that they feel independent.
I stay in the clearing, stretching muscles that are still protesting yesterday's exertions. When I look up, I find Hakan watching me.
"That was really good," I tell him. "What you did with them."
"They're quick learners."
"You're a good teacher."
He looks uncomfortable with the praise. "It's basic defensive training. Nothing special."
"It's special to them. You're giving them confidence. Tools. Hope."
"Hope is dangerous," he says, but there's no conviction in it.
"Hope is essential." I move closer, drawn by something I can't quite name. "Especially for kids who've been through what they have."
We're standing close now — close enough that I can see the faint scars on his blue skin, the way his amber eyes seem to glow brighter when he looks at me.
"You're good with them too," he says quietly. "Natural. Like you were meant to care for children."
"I work with kids a lot. Families in crisis. It’s...." I pause, trying to find the words. "It's the most important thing I've ever done. Helping families stay together. Giving kids a chance at stability."
"Is that why you do it?"
"Partly. Also because…." I take a breath. "Because my parents gave me everything. Love, stability, support. And when they died, I realized how rare that is. How many kids don't have that. I wanted to help give them what I had."
Understanding fills his eyes. "You honor your parents by helping others."
"Yeah. I guess I do."
We stand there in the clearing, the alien sun filtering through the purple leaves overhead, and something passes between us. Something that makes my pulse quicken and my breath catch.
"I should…." I gesture vaguely toward the stream. "I should get some water, too."
"Be careful. Don't go far."
I nod and head toward the stream, my heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with exertion.
The stream is beautiful in the daylight — the water crystal clear, the rocks along the bottom gleaming like gems.
I follow the edge of the stream for a bit, then kneel down, cup my hands, and bring the cool liquid to my lips. It tastes clean, slightly mineral, refreshing.
As I drink, I let myself think about everything that's happened. About how my entire life has been upended. About how I should be terrified, desperate to get home, focused on nothing but returning to Earth.
Instead, I'm thinking about Hakan's fierce protectiveness, the boys' laughter, and how this feels more real than anything I left behind.
On Earth, I had my work. My apartment. My routines.
But I didn't have this. This sense of belonging. This —
A growl interrupts my thoughts.
I freeze, my heart dropping into my stomach.
Slowly, I turn my head and see it — another rakkor, even bigger than the one that chased me yesterday.
It’s further down the stream.
And it’s just seen me.
My heart starts thudding. Dear God.
The creature is easily nine feet tall, its red fur matted and scarred, its eyes glowing with predatory hunger.
With a gleam in its eyes, it starts moving toward me.
I should run. Scream for help.
I step backward, but my foot slips on the wet rocks and I go down hard. The creature lunges —
And Hakan is there.
He appears out of nowhere, putting himself between me and the beast, his blade already drawn. The rakkor's claws rake across his shoulder but Hakan doesn't even flinch.
He drives his blade up into the creature's shoulder, and the rakkor howls — a sound that makes my blood run cold. It thrashes, trying to dislodge Hakan, but he holds firm, twisting the blade.
When Hakan pulls out the blade, the rakkor shakes free and crashes back into the jungle, leaving a trail of dark blood.
Hakan runs to me, chest heaving, his shoulder bleeding, his eyes blazing with fury and fear.
"Are you hurt?" he demands.
"No, I'm okay, but you're bleeding —"
He's on me before I can finish, pulling me to my feet, his hands on my shoulders, frantically searching my face, my body, looking for injuries.
"I'm fine," I insist. "Hakan, I'm fine. But you're not —"
"If something had happened to you —"
I reach up and touch his face, my palm against his cheek.
"I'm okay," I whisper. "I'm right here."
Before I can think, before I can second-guess, I'm pulling him down to me.
Our lips meet and the world explodes.
Our kiss is fierce, desperate, full of fear and relief and something deeper. His mouth is hot against mine, and I lose myself in tasting him, drowning in him.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him, and I feel the solid strength of his body, the heat of his skin through my dress. My fingers find his hair, tangling in the dark strands, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat pooling in my belly.
We break apart, both breathing hard.
"Daisy," he breathes.
What’s happening feels too fast, too intense, too impossible.
But it also feels so right.