Page 15 of The Huntmaster

For the first time since the Vanguard-7 had screamed through the atmosphere, the tension in my muscles began to unravel. I let my legs float, watching the ripples of red water shimmer under the azure glow of the moss.

Aliens, I thought, staring at the crystalline flowers clinging to the grotto walls. Real, breathing, sentient, terrifyingly hot-tempered aliens.

My mind spiralled. I was an exobiologist who had just become the ultimate case study. I’d crashed on a planet that wasn't on any of our charts, been healed by fucking grubs, and was currently being held captive by a giant who looked like he’d been carved out of a mountain. It was a lot to process.

A part of me was still waiting to wake up in my bunk on the ship, but the sting of the water in my scrapes and the weight of the humidity told me this was very, very real. I wondered if the Academy would even believe the logs—if I ever got the chance to write them. Would they see the Oru-Ka as a threat or a wonder? Right now, looking at the glowing grotto, it was hard not to feel the latter.

I drifted for a few minutes, lost in the rhythmic dripping of the grotto, trying to piece together a plan. Step one: survive. Step two: figure out how to talk to Kaelen-Thul without making him want to snap my neck. Step three⁠—

Rustle.

I snapped to attention, my heart hammering against my ribs. The sound had come from the thick curtain of hanging vines near the entrance. I stayed frozen, my ears straining for anything over the bubbling of the springs.

Silence.

"Great. Now I'm hallucinating noises," I muttered, shaking my head. I reached up, my fingers finding the matted disaster of my hair. I tried to pull a strand free, but it was hopeless. The sap hadn't dissolved; if anything, the heat had made it even more pliable and sticky, weaving my golden hair into a singular, resinous clump. "Come on, work with me here. I can't meet the neighbours looking like I survived a glue factory explosion."

A low, vibrating trill echoed through the grotto.

I spun around, my back hitting the rough stone of the basin. Three figures emerged from the steam. They were males—I could tell by the broader set of their shoulders and the irregular, aggressive patterns of the markings on their chests. In the centre was the one from the bridge—the one who had looked at me like I was a piece of spoiled meat.

They were speaking to each other in a series of sharp, staccato clicks, their amber eyes scanning the grotto before landing on me. Their expressions weren't just curious; they were dark, filled with a volatile agitation that made the air feel heavy.

The leader stepped forward, crouching at the very edge of the red pool. He looked down at me, his gaze sweeping over my bare shoulders and the way the water clouded around my chest. Slowly, the markings on his throat shifted from a dull violet to a hot, flickering orange. A slow, cruel smirk pulled at his lips.

"Who are you?" I demanded, sinking as deep as I could. I crossed my arms over my chest, my face burning with more than just the heat of the water. "Sora said I was under protection. You shouldn't be here."

The three of them tilted their heads in unison. I saw their pupils dilate, that eerie "tuning in" effect happening as they locked onto my voice.

"I am Vahn," he said, his English sounding like a serrated blade. He leaned closer, the scent of something spicy and rank clinging to him. "And you are the sky-meat that has made our Huntmaster lose his mind. Sora is a fool. She listens to the songs of the trees, but she does not hear the hunger in the shadows."

He reached out a clawed hand, tracing the air just inches from my face. "The Huntmaster is away, clouding his mind with Zha. He thinks the stars have sent him a sign. I think they have sent him a distraction."

Vahn’s tongue—long, dark, and slightly forked at the tip—flicked out, licking his lips in a slow, provocative gesture that made my stomach turn. "Now that I see you without the sky-skin, I see why Kaelen has attached himself to you. You are soft. Pale. Like the fruit that grows in the deep shade, waiting to be crushed."

"Get out," I hissed, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "Kaelen-Thul will kill you if he finds you here. He told me not to test him, and I’m pretty sure that applies to you too."

Vahn let out a dry, rasping laugh that echoed off the damp walls. "Kaelen-Thul is a fool who hides his desire behind titles. He wants to 'study' you? I want to see how much of that golden hair I have to pull before you make a sound we can actually understand."

He leaned in even further, his breath hot against my cheek. "You are not a person here, little ghost. You are a fluke. A toy. And Kaelen cannot guard his toys forever."

He stood up abruptly, glancing back at the two males behind him. His markings flashed a commanding red. "Do as you wish with the star-thing. See if her skin tears as easily as the sky-metal did. Save the best parts for my return—I want to see the marks you leave. I have business with the council that cannot wait."

He looked back at me one last time, spitting a harsh, guttural curse in his own tongue before vanishing back into the mists of the grotto.

I was left alone in the water. The two remaining males didn't follow him. They stayed at the edge of the pool, their amber eyes glowing with a deranged, hungry light. One was thick-set with a jagged scar across his snout; the other was leaner, his tail lashing the stones with a slow thwack that sounded like a countdown.

"Don't," I whispered, backing away until my head hit the cold rock wall. "Don't you dare come in here. Kaelen will⁠—"

The scarred one let out a low, wet hiss. He didn't care about Kaelen. He stepped into the crimson water, the ripples of his entry sent a wave of terrifying heat against my skin. The other followed, fanning out to flank me.

I was trapped in the planet's blood, and for the first time, the warmth of the spring felt like a tomb.

Chapter 11

Kaelen-Thul

The silver smoke of the Zha-root was still swirling in my lungs, thinning my blood and making the hum of the Great Tree sound like a choir of deep-bellied giants. Beside me on the lookout, Toren was slumped against the railing, his eyes half-lidded, his tail twitching in the rhythmic, slow pulse of a drugged warrior.