I scan the horizon and notice a high plateau in the distance. My pulse pounds in my ears as I approach, sending a silent prayer to the Gods that we make it before the storm is upon us. If we do not, I will have to shield my mate with my body. I doubt I’d survive but I know that she, at least, would. And that is all that matters.
Flying closer, I notice several caves carved into the cliff wall. I search for one large enough to accommodate my draka form and deep enough to provide shelter from the wind and sand. I send another silent prayer to the Gods I cursed earlier this morning, asking for them to spare my mate.
Has ever a male been tested so early in a pairing?
I already failed to protect her once when I left her at the mercy of a predator, and I will not fail again. My vow.
When I reach the cliff face, a yawning cave mouth deep enough to shelter in from the sandstorm catches my attention. Hovering just outside the space, I peer into the darkness and see nothing. Just to be safe, I draw in a deep breath and then blow a long trail of flame, hoping to chase away or burn any occupants that might have scaled the steep terrain and claimed this cave already. I cannot defend my mate from predators in such a small, enclosed space. My draka form is at least five times larger than my two-legged form and she could be easily harmed if I’m not careful.
Satisfied when nothing stirs in the darkness, I carefully drift onto the small ledge just outside the entrance. As my claws grip the edge, a few chunks of rock crumble beneath my grasp and fall away, tumbling to the earth below.
Worry fills me as I look to my linaya.
My mate does not have wings. I will have to make certain she does not venture outside our shelter without me for fear that she might fall.
As soon as we’re inside, I shift into my two-legged form and carry my still-unconscious female toward the back of the cave. Several crystals embedded in the walls cast a soft orange glow through the tunnel, lighting my way. This is fortunate since my mate does not seem to possess the ability to see well in the dark… or at all for that matter.
I shudder inwardly as I think back on how easily she missed me hiding in the shadows of the rocks earlier. I was downwind from her then and did not realize that another creature, such as the sand tarkin that attacked her, could use the same advantage to sneak up on her. I shake my head in frustration, then reach down and brush the hair back from her face, gently cupping her cheek as I whisper, “I vow that I will not fail you again, my linaya.”
I hold her close to my chest while I explore the cave. A small pool shimmers near the back of the cavern—a fortunate find. We will not have to venture out for water if we’re trapped in the cave for days. The rock floor warms beneath my feet as I approach the pool. It is not unusual to find warm springs in caves like this, but I wonder if the water is too hot for my mate. Her skin feels a bit cooler than mine, though that could be normal for her species.
I clench my jaw in frustration. There is so much I do not know about her, and I worry that I will be unable to care for her properly if she does not wake so I can ask about her needs.
Carefully, I lay her down on the floor. She is still asleep, affording me a chance to study her in greater detail. Her outer coverings are made of strange, coarse fabric I’ve never felt before. Nothing like the soft, silken robes my people wear when they choose to be clothed.
The top is sleeveless, revealing the entire length of her arms from her shoulders to her hands. The claw marks across her left forearm have stopped bleeding. I am surprised to notice that her blood dries red instead of black like my people and most species that occupy this quadrant of the galaxy.
Regardless of her strange features, the angry marks in her flesh must be cleaned if they are to heal without infection. Because I left the castle in draka form, I have no clothing, so I must use some of hers to clean her wounds. I wonder if her people can shift forms. Many sentient species can, but surely if she could, she would have done so while under attack from the sand tarkin.
I study her legs and notice the fabric clings to her form like a second skin before tucking into a pair of boots. I remove the coverings from her feet then dip my hands beneath the waistband of her pants and gently roll them down her hips and legs, removing them from her body. I do the same with her upper coverings, baring her form to my gaze as I check her for further injury.
Her pale, creamy flesh is covered with a scattering of small, darkly pigmented spots. I’m aghast to find that she lacks any sort of protective scales as I run my hands over her soft skin.
She is very different from a Drakarian female. Instead of a flat expanse of muscle across her chest, two large, soft mounds rise above her hearts. I wonder what these are for. I have heard some species nurse their young after giving live birth. Perhaps that is the case for her kind. She wears a strange band of cloth across them. Another strip of fabric covers her pelvic area, concealing her feminine place.
Despite my curiosity, I do not dare remove either piece
