Wait, could it be?
I step deeper into the space as the thing I used as a shield catches my attention. It’s a metal box with openings on one side, partially covered in dingy scuffs.
“What is that?”
It’s not Vruksha who answers me though. It’s the orb. “A toaster.”
“Toaster?”
“A machine to heat and crisp bread.”
“Oh…” That makes sense… But the mention of bread makes my stomach grumble. “And that?” I ask, pointing to a contraption of bent and rounded metal pieces connected together.
“Parts of a bike.” This time, it’s Vruksha who responds. “Orb, off,” he adds with a snap.
The orb’s lights fade and it settles on a silver disk on a ledge beside the stairs.
Vruksha catches my eyes again as he slides forward, making me back up so I won’t accidentally touch him. He scowls when I do. “Follow me.”
His mood has only soured. For a moment, I stare after him and his winding ruby tail that remarkably avoids brushing against anything.
Master of his domain, Vruksha has skills I envy. In my job, knowledge is power. If I’m not constantly learning and honing the skills I’ve already acquired, I could lose my position to someone who has.
And then I feel it, the exit at my back, unblocked and beckoning. His spear is right there, waiting for me to grab it and flee. The realization strikes me like a heady force that steals my breath. Vruksha left the path open, and if I wanted to, I could make a run for it. I could turn and sprint up the steps and hope to the stars I get the hatch open in time before he catches me. I could use his spear on him.
I may never get another chance. A better time to make a run for it.
I follow Vruksha deeper into his den.
Nine
To Trust a Human
Vruksha
I replace the battery to my generator as I wait for the food to warm. My den is powered by a giant generator that I found long ago, locked away. I’ve come to understand it was once used for the airport. It doesn’t fit in the main space where Gemma awaits, but in a separate room off to the side.
It took me months to pry the door open.
The generator takes up the entire smaller room, giving off heat, giving off rich power. I used to stare at it, wondering how such a large, metal machine was made. It used to excite me, knowing it was mine, and no other naga knew I possessed anything like it.
Like my female.
Now such power doesn’t help my mood.
After I led Gemma into my den yesterday, intending to take her to my nest, she could barely pick up her feet halfway through. She yelped when I carried her to a pile of cleaned pelts and forced her to rest. But she would not do so with me so close...
She continues to deny us.
I see it in her eyes, etched on her face, and in the way she looks around as if searching for something to help her escape. Her cunning is easy to see because it’s what I would do...if I were trapped with a being I didn’t want to be trapped with.
I hiss.
Gemma is not like the human females the screens have shown me time and time again. The broadcasts are from those final days before humans and all life was wiped from the face of Earth. Those females held their mates, their children; they fought for them, and their survival. They reported with fear as sickness took hold of them, they followed orders given to them, and they accepted their fates.
Gemma is not accepting hers.
I stuff the dead battery into a side pocket on the wall for it to charge. If I have learned anything living among the unliving relics of the past, it’s that they would die if you let them, but if you don’t, they continue to do their job. And this generator… it needed a lot of handling for it to continue.
Unlike many of my other treasures.
Treasures I have gathered, maintained and learned. Each piece I have found or fought for, collected from ruins across the land. Some are from my father and others were stolen.
My hoard comforts me and shows my wealth amongst the nagas. It also bestows security. But she does not care! She would rather take her chances in the wilds. She’d rather sleep in crumbling structures, with little coverage from the elements and lurking predators.
She’d rather face all of that rather than being protected! She is not keen on being one of my treasures.
Gemma is nothing like the females desperately searching for security and safety on the videos.
Safety and security I have spent years achieving. Years guarding, years perfecting. All in a terrible, primal need to strengthen my domain and keep others away. For what reason before? For me, believing a female would never grace this space, but from the moment I first saw Gemma, my den has become something else entirely.
A nest. For her. For us.
Since then, if I wasn’t watching for her, desperate for a glimpse of her while I scouted the facility, I was preparing for her.
Leaving the generator room, I find my female staring at the food on the burner, holding her ripped shirt and jacket closed.
I long for a peek at her flesh, if only because she’s adamantly hiding it from me. I want it more with every breath.
The food cooking on the burner though? It reeks of bear droppings.
My female seems to like the smell. Her nostrils twitch as I study her. Military rations, packaged and sourced many years ago, I brought them to my den in case of an emergency. And today? I have no interest in going out on a hunt for fresh meat. It’s been nearly a week since I’ve returned to my den, not since Zaku approached the humans.
There is
