Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“She's fevered,” Emily says with a glance up at me before she turns her attention to dealing with the wound. “Bar the doors. I will have no contact with anybody until her fever breaks and we see if I contract it.”
It is a crushing realization to understand that I have put my human pet at risk of illness in my reflexive rush to save another.
“I am sorry,” I say, though those two words do very little to touch the remorse I am suddenly absolutely swamped with.
“Don’t be. You did the right thing. I think. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s too late.”
I stand back and watch as Emily saves a complete stranger, risking her life to do so without a murmur of complaint. If not for me, this would never have happened. Then again, if not for me, Emily and her entire village would be the captives of Wrathelder.
“That’s all I can do,” she says after a time. “It’s up to her now.”
“You’ve done well, pet. Now, it is time I washed and fed you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want to look after you.”
Her gaze softens.
“That sounds nice,” she murmurs.
I put my pet into the old enamel bath that stands in her bathroom, having warmed the water on the stove first and ensured it is the proper temperature.
She relaxes into the warm water, but there is a storminess about her eyes that does not dissipate with the rest of her tension.
“What is it, pet?”
“Sometimes I hate these people,” she growls. “I love them. They are everything to me. I was born to serve them. But sometimes they are the absolute fucking worst.”
“That’s normal,” I tell her. “Hating each other is as much a part of the human experience as loving one another. It’s just that you don’t like the hate part. It makes you feel like bad people.”
“Sometimes we are bad people. Look how small that girl is. How defenseless she was. They shot her like she was absolutely nothing. Less than an animal. How could anybody want to hurt her?”
“It’s human to be tribal. It’s human to be cruel. It’s human to be many things nobody likes. You fight against those impulses as best you can, but you’ll never eradicate them. Bart is not a bad man. He is the man your world made him to be.”
“You saved her, but you don’t hate him?”
“I don’t hate humans. Hating humans would be like hating the sun. You’re animals. You act on instinct. Bart defends his territory. That’s instinct. You want to save this wounded girl. That’s instinct too.”
“You have such an alien perspective,” she sighs as I begin to wash her back. “I suppose it’s interesting to look at the world that way, but it’s hard to accept these things. Bart is stupid and cruel.”
“And stupid, cruel people have their place in a human society, whether they are liked or not.”
“Is that true? That can’t be true.”
“Our understanding of humans suggests that when in functioning groups, every person has a role. There are few accidents in nature’s design for the human family. Your planet is too brutal, your lives too short.”
“So nothing is ever wrong?”
“Of course things are wrong from time to time. There are mutations, perversions, maladaptations, but they are not well tolerated and generally those who stray too far outside accepted behaviors will find themselves killed. Stupidity and cruelty are within the range of tolerance for most human societies because they can be functional.”
“It’s so easy for you,” Emily says. “You understand us the way we understand animals. But it’s different when you live it. It’s different when it is you.”
“We Euphorians have our own quirks and foibles too,” I remind her. “We may be advanced, but we are not perfect.”
“You’ve always seemed perfect to me,” she says. It is the sweetest thing to hear, as she does not say it as a compliment. She simply says it as a matter of fact while sulking about something completely different. I love this human woman so deeply I can barely begin to express it. I hope she feels it.
6
Zain
Days have passed and the wounded, sick human is yet to wake. She is breathing, but that is all that can be said for her. Emily is doing her best, ensuring that infection does not set in, but whatever is wrong with the human persists in being wrong.
I admit, I have enjoyed the close quarters aspect of our quarantine. Some of the villagers have left dishes at the door, including an incredibly tasty casserole. I am more forkfuls into it than I can count before I realize that the flesh I am consuming is unlikely to be any of their domesticated animals, not while they have such an ample alien supply.
I have become a cannibal.
It’s delicious.
Emily insists on us staying indoors for at least two weeks to ensure that nothing has been transmitted from the city dweller. Two weeks with my curvy, beautiful, bright, and loving pet sounds like heaven to me, even though this is all undoubtedly some form of captivity.