The jungle responded immediately, a rush of sensation flooding my mind. The unity dream had heightened my sensitivity; I could feel the jungle’s curiosity about my altered state. It recognized the mating hormones coursing through my system, the primal imperative that now warred with my mission parameters.
I focused, directing my inquiry toward the Cydarian. The jungle’s response was immediate—impressions of movement to the northwest, urgency, fear. The smuggler was still running, but he’d slowed. Perhaps injured. The jungle conveyed a sense of corruption—the Cydarian had damaged part of the ecosystem in his flight, burning through a section of sensitive vines to clear a path.
The offense registered in my own mind as a personal affront. The jungle had been my ally, my home for over a cycle. Its pain was, in some small way, my own.
But another sensation overrode even this—a new presence. Female. Human. Lost. The impression was so strong it nearly knocked me physically backward. The jungle had sensed her too. Miri. My mate.
I pressed my hand more firmly against the bark, focusing my inquiry. Where?
The response came as a series of impressions—eastern sector, near the abandoned research outpost Delta. The place where the veil between worlds was thinnest, where the old portal technology had been left to decay.
So that was how she had arrived. The portal that Legion command claimed was deactivated and harmless. I’d suspected otherwise for months, noting strange energy fluctuations and temporal anomalies in that sector. I’d reported my findings, only to be dismissed. “Focus on your mission, Reaper. Leave scientific speculation to the scientists.”
Now my mate had stumbled through that supposedly dead portal, into one of the most dangerous ecosystems in the charted universe.
I pressed deeper into the connection, seeking more. The jungle’s response came with an unexpected emotion—possessiveness. It had found her interesting. Different. It had wrapped her in mating snare vines—not to consume her, but to protect her from the more dangerous predators that stalked the lower canopy.
My growl was involuntary, primal. Mine. Not yours.
The jungle’s response was almost amused—a ripple of sensation that suggested it understood my claim but had its own interest in the new arrival.
I pushed again, demanding to know her condition. Relief flooded me as the impressions formed—alive, unharmed, confused but not panicking. The snare vines had administered amild sedative, keeping her calm while they assessed whether she was threat, food, or something else entirely.
The distance between my current position and Delta outpost was significant—at least a day’s journey at top speed, longer if I maintained caution. The Cydarian was moving in the opposite direction, carrying stolen Legion tech that could devastate worlds if it reached the black market.
My duty was clear. My mission parameters explicit. Retrieve the stolen technology. Neutralize the threat. Protect the jungle’s secrets.
But Miri was out there. Vulnerable. My fate mate.
I withdrew from the connection, my decision already made. The fugitive could wait. He was injured, slowing. The jungle would help me track him when the time came.
I gathered my minimal gear—combat blades, water purifier, med kit, comm unit—and secured them to my lightweight battle harness. The comm unit was silent, as it had been for months. Legion command maintained sporadic contact, but I was largely autonomous in this assignment. No one would know if I diverted from the mission for a day or two.
No one but me.
I leapt from the platform, catching a lower branch with practiced ease. My descent was controlled, efficient, each movement calculated to conserve energy for the long journey ahead.
My nostrils flared, testing the air currents. Though logically I knew I couldn’t scent her from this distance, my instincts strained toward the east, toward Miri. The Unity dream had left its mark, attunement beginning even before our physical mating.
As I hit the jungle floor, my claws extended automatically, ready to deal with any threat. The carnivorous vines retracted at my approach, recognizing my scent signature. Other predators—the six-legged apex hunters that ruled the lower canopy—observed from a distance but didn’t challenge me.
They sensed what I had become in the space of a single dream. Not just a Reaper, not just a hunter.
I had become something primal, something the jungle itself recognized and respected. A mate claiming his kassari. A warrior with purpose beyond duty.
The fugitive could run. The sector could burn. The Legion could recall me in disgrace.
None of it mattered.
Miri had arrived, and the jungle had already touched her.
She was mine. And I was coming for her.
3 /MIRI
I wokeup to the intense sensation of being watched. Not the soft, “aw look, a baby bird” kind of watching. No, this was predator-level observation. Jungle-still. Breath-held. Waiting-for-me-to-move type energy. My eyes flew open.
The massive golden-eyed alien crouched beside me like a damn jungle demigod was not helping my heart rate.
