Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
But I should have known that Barlia—Tabitha—would be tricky to befriend. That she would make it a challenge. That she wouldn’t fall all over me the moment I flicked my tail in her direction.
And that’s fine. I can be patient.
I set the gift down on her doorstep and head back to my sled.
Seven
TABITHA
I watch from the cracked vid screen as he sets an item down on my porch and turns to leave.
Is this a trap? I don’t trust it. I wait for him to return, watching the feed, but there’s nothing. Then, the sound of his sled leaving hits my ears and I realize Jrrru really did leave. Huh. I gaze down at the package he left, wondering what it could be.
I don’t know why I care.
Annoyed with myself, I head to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. I drink it, savoring every drop, because a cool glass of water always helps me clear my head. It reminds me that even when I’m stressed or frustrated here on Risda III, things aren’t that bad.
I’m irritated with myself for how I acted when he arrived. I should have shut the door in his face and sent him on his way. Instead, I talked to him. Had a long conversation with him. I told him my name. Part of me hates that I caved on that, but hearing him call me “Barlia” just got under my skin. Aliens like to do that kind of thing—rename you like you’re a pet that’s been rehomed—and it bothered me. I should have let it go, but I couldn’t.
Another thing I can’t let go? That stupid gift on the porch.
Because I’m going to pick it up and open it.
The wary part of me says it could be a trap. That it could be some sort of stun weapon, or a poison. That he’s going to knock me out and imprison me later, or sell me back into slavery. If I was smart, I’d kick it into the booby-trapped yard and never look at it again.
There’s something about Jrrru that makes me pause, though. It’s like some part of me instinctively knows he’s not out to hurt me. That he really feels as lonely and isolated as I do. I know he’s right about how praxiians aren’t liked on this planet. They’re one of the larger civilizations out in the galaxy, and when humans look at them, we see enemies, not friends. I can just imagine how he feels walking into Port. He must be very close to his brother to give up his job and stay here with him.
The same brother that just got married and is probably wrapped up in his wife. No wonder Jrrru seems so rudderless and lost.
It’s not my problem, I tell myself as I stare at the package on the porch.
Just because he’s fixed on me as a friend doesn’t mean I have to play along.
I don’t need a friend. I don’t need anyone. I’ve proved that to myself over and over again.
Even so…it’s been a long time since someone got me a gift. And I have to admit I’m curious what a praxiian would give a human as a gift. I ignore it for a time, going about my day and trying not to think about it. I check the farming bots and their reports for the afternoon. I make myself lunch. I have another glass of water.
Then, I return to the door and stare out at the package on the porch.
Fuck.
I open the door and nudge the thing with my bat. It feels hard and the paper crackles, but that’s it. No movement. No bomb going off. I shove it with the bat again, harder, and the darn thing falls off the steps and onto the ground. In another moment, it’s going to roll into one of the pit traps I’ve dug under the windows, and for some reason, the thought of that bothers me. I race down the steps to grab it before it can drop and then brace myself, waiting.
Nothing happens.
I glance around the outside of my house, looking to see if this was a lure of some kind, just in case Jrrru isn’t the guy I thought he was. After a long, wary moment of silence, I head back inside. I set the “gift” on the counter and stare at it. When I can stand it no longer, I pull the paper off and then eye the contents.
It’s…a candle.
I recognize the make from the general store. The label on it is handmade, and there’s some intrepid human woman that makes candles and soaps and sells them at the store. I’ve never met her but I’ve seen her goods there every time I’ve gone in. Astrid’s Apothecary. I’ve never bought any of it. There’s always been other things to take up my money, like supplies and weaponry.