Rage ignites within me, molten and sudden. The image of my female being taken by lowly human males sickens me to my core, filling me with revulsion.
“Speak of past lovers again, female, and I will peel the skin from their bones and fashion you a fine leather tunic to wear—let them keep you warm!” I snarl, fangs bared, my gaze burning down on her.
“Fuck! Alright... God.” Princesa recoils, her silver eyes wide in shock. But then, to my surprise, she titters, clutching my arm with both hands. “Though don’t tempt me, Dracoth. I hated those losers.”
I stare down at the humming Princesa, utterly perplexed.
She laughs at my anger and speaks of lying with males she despises?
The chaos she radiates is incomprehensible to one such as I. When the older warriors gathered with drinks in hand, boasting of their carnal conquests, they never spoke of such nonsense.
“Oh, that’s right!” Princesa interrupts my spiraling thoughts, rummaging deep within her furs and leathers. “We can feed Todd now!” She holds aloft the curled-up creature, lazily blinking open its single eye—perhaps the only being that sleeps more than she does. “Look at all the leaves, Todd. You’re going to be so big!”
She hurries to a nearby brush, thick with branches and moist, vibrant red leaves. Already, the cyloillar’s many legs writhe, and its mandibles skitter uselessly through the air with excitement.
“Bon appétit,” Princesa beams, setting the creature amongst the brambles. Todd immediately scurries toward the nearest leaf, devouring slices with surprising haste. The sound of hisclacking mouthpieces mixes with the teeming cacophony of Draxxi wildlife, adding to the background noise.
“Ah, look at the little scamp go,” she exhales, watching him disappear among the foliage.
She watches like a proud venefex mother over newborn whelps. Except she’s a human, and it’s a lowly cyloillar. Such perversion.
Perhaps Princesa suffers from space madness?
“Oh, berries!” Princesa announces, rushing over to a nearby bush, with clusters of green-red fruit dangling from its branches. “These look editable,” she ponders, plucking a bunch from a stem.
“Don’t,” I growl, rushing to snatch them from her tiny grasp. “There’s a trick to these Draxxus fruits.” My frown deepens as I struggle to recall the lessons from my Proving preparations, though in the end, I only consumed the creatures I slaughtered.
“Huh?” Princesa turns, startled, glancing at me and the berries. “What trick?”
“I don’t recall,” I admit, just asToddskitters out from his bush, his many legs scrambling in excitement as he rushes toward the berry-laden one.
“Neat trick,” Princesa retorts with a grimace, her tone loaded with sarcasm. “Todd doesn’t seem to mind. Do you, you little munchkin?” She coos in that strange, annoying high-pitched voice, offering berries to the eager creature.
It may die, though being rid of the thing would be a blessing.
“Quick, give him those,” Princesa presses, nodding at the berries still in my hand. Reluctantly, I lay them beside the writhing cyloillar. Todd’s mandibles pluck the berries methodically, devouring them with impressive speed.
“Look! He loves them!” Princesa claps her hands with joy. “How exciting.”
Princesa hastens around the bush, gathering an armful of berries. “More for the chonky boy,” she giggles, piling them beside the rapidly expanding creature. “Ah, they must be fine to eat,” she mutters, throwing a handful of berries into her mouth.
But as she chews, her face immediately scrunches, and a shiver runs through her body. “So bitter!” she complains, sticking out her little pink tongue, now tinted green.
“I warned you,” I growl, scrutinizing her watery eyes and puckered face, scanning for any signs of poisoning. Todd is already descending on the pile, its ravenous mandibles shoveling more berries into its jaws.
“You worry too much,” Princesa waves a dismissive hand, still focused on her wriggling pet. “They were just a bit sour.”
With no more berries, Todd scampers deeper into the bush, its black and red segmented body fading into the shadows.
“Wait, Todd! Come back!” she yells, dashing after him with concern.
I grimace, watching the farce. She shames herself—a future chieftainess, my chieftainess—chasing after a mindless grub.
“Come, Princesa,” I beckon with an open arm. “It returns to where it belongs—”
“No!” Her voice cuts through the air, her silver eyes suddenly blazing with intensity. The force of it ripples through our bond, like a surge of bubbling lava. “I won’t leave him. Not after what we’ve been through.”
Madness.
