Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
One young praxiian lord hated how miserable his human was because he wanted to be greeted with smiles instead of tears. He brought her to us and stayed for a while, hoping we could figure out what was wrong with his Rita. There was nothing wrong, of course, other than Rita didn't want to be owned. But while here, the praxiian struck up a conversation with Kayla, who had been “rehomed” here. Two weeks later, Kayla and the praxiian lord were married and Rita was on her way to Risda, all three incredibly happy at how things turned out.
As word of praxiians marrying humans spread, we had more praxiian men (all lords, a lot of them social climbers) looking for human wives to catch on the latest trend. We refuse to let anyone marry by force, so the men have to woo the women. We've even had some women from Risda, bored of farming, contact us and ask to be paired up with a praxiian bachelor.
So that's how it goes—humans (mostly women) show up here. Some meet with other praxiians to see if they want to marry. Some go on to Risda if they don't want to even think about romance (and who can blame them). We send the most traumatized women directly on to Risda because Milly has a staff of people used to dealing with those that are struggling.
It's been a weird ride, for sure. But it keeps things interesting.
As I head through the house to go join Zhur, I mentally go through the roster of people currently staying with us, just in case someone might be interested in “Lord Purr.” Jaymee definitely will not be. She's wanting to get to Risda as quickly as possible. Wendy might, but she's very indecisive. As for Kjersti, it'll depend on his personality. The Norwegian woman is extremely upbeat and active, but she needs someone willing to be outdoorsy with her and anyone that lives exclusively on Praxii Minor will probably be out.
I just hope Lord Purr is decently kind and doesn't make the mistake of the last guy, asking if we had “anyone hairier.”
Once outside, I hear a peeping sound in the trees. I look around at the large lxrrhmm trees (whose name I can't pronounce as it's more of a rumble in the throat than anything). The forest here on the moon reminds me of redwoods back home, their branches so high up that I can't touch them. It lends a shady coolness to their shadows, and Mrrrkuss has had to carefully establish the gardens around the trees to ensure the flowers get enough sunlight. Right now we have a lot of pretty yellow and red flowers in beds artfully dancing between tree trunks, framed by larger, bushy ferns.
Peep.
Peep peep.
I chuckle to myself as I continue on the path towards the area we've established as the “work clearing,” where Zhur tends to take apart his larger projects on the larger stone platform there. "I hear you," I call out to the trees. "Does someone want a snaaaaaack?"
I roll the last word deliberately, knowing that I might as well shake a red flag in front of a bull. Immediately, several large spindly birds emerge from the trees, trotting over to me and peeping excitedly. The local birds here don't fly, I've learned. They walk on long, storky legs, their wings little bigger than the colorful plumage atop their heads. Instead, they have long, elegant necks, equally long sweeping tails, and a hankering for berries and nuts.
"I'm heading for the food dish," I tell them as more emerge from the woods, peeping their hunger at me. I used to feed the birds (which remind me of stretched-out ostrich-size birds of paradise, so I call them “stretches”) by hand when there were only one or two that came around. It took forever to win the trust of just those two. Then, once those realized I had treats, more would show up. And more. And more. Now every time I head outside, there's an absolute flock waiting for me.
One stretch bird pecks at my hand insistently.
"I'm going, I'm going," I grumble, walking a little faster as I do. I make it to the far end of the clearing, twenty to thirty stretch birds following behind me peeping aggressively. I get to the long trough set up and hit the feeding button, and it fills with grains and berries.
They swarm past me in their haste to get their treat, gobbling like they've never been fed in their lives. One nearly knocks me over and I stagger away a few feet.
"You're welcome," I call back to the birds, dusting my skirts off.
"That's what you get for feeding them," calls my husband. He crosses over to my side, an amused grin on his face and a smear of grease on his white fur. He's lucky he's so cute. "Now they depend on you, Maeve. They no longer forage in the forest. They just sit out here and scream for you."