Page 17 of Nansar
I knew it was possible, of course. President Bradford herself was mated to an alien named Rickon. But knowing it was possible and standing face-to-face with the living proof of it were two entirely different things.
"So you grew up speaking English," I said, still processing. "With your mother."
"My mother made sure of it." A ghost of a smile touched his lips—fond and sad all at once. "She said if I was going to be part of both worlds, I needed to truly understand both. Not just speak the words, but comprehend the meaning behind them."
"She must be brave," I said quietly. "Your mother."
"She is." Pride rang clear in his voice. "The bravest person I know." He paused, then added with deliberate emphasis, "Until I met you."
The compliment hit differently now, weighted with new meaning. He wasn't just some alien warrior offering empty flattery. He was someone who'd grown up watching his human mother navigate an alien world, who understood exactly what kind of courage that required.
He turned then, resuming his path through the forest without another word. I watched him for a moment—the way he moved with such fluid precision, each footfall deliberate and nearly soundless despite his size. Careful not to leave tracks.
I tried to follow his lead, placing my feet where his had been, mimicking the careful distribution of weight. My first few steps were clumsy by comparison—a snapped twig here, the rustle of disturbed leaves there. But I was a quick study, and survival had always been about adaptation.
Nansar didn't look back, but I caught the slight tilt of his head—listening, I realized. Monitoring my progress without making me feel scrutinized. It was oddly considerate, giving me space to learn without the pressure of his direct attention.
By the time we'd covered another hundred yards, I'd found a rhythm. Choose the next foothold. Distribute weight gradually. The forest seemed to accept our passage more readily now, the sounds of our movement blending into the ambient whisper of wind through leaves and the distant calls of whatever creatures made this place their home.
"What is your name?" I asked, realizing with a flush of embarrassment that I'd been thinking of him ashandsome horned guyfor the last few minutes.
"Nansar," he said simply, not looking back, his voice carrying easily over his shoulder.
I tested the name silently, the syllables foreign and exotic on my tongue. It suited him somehow—sharp and strong, with an edge to it.
The landscape around us shifted gradually, drawing my attention away from the broad set of Nansar's shoulders and the confident way he moved through the terrain.
The wooded section we'd been traveling through grew denser with each step, transforming into something almost jungle-like. Thick-trunked trees towered above us, their canopies intertwining overhead to create a perpetual twilight that felt oddly intimate. Vines hung like silk curtains between the branches, and the undergrowth was so lush it seemed to pulse with life beneath my boots. The air here wrapped around us, humid and heavy with the scent of rich soil and something sweet I couldn't identify—almost intoxicating.
But something about it felt wrong. Because just beyond this pocket of verdant growth, I could glimpse the landscape transforming back into arid, desert-like terrain. Rust-coloredsand and scattered rock formations stretched to the horizon, broken only by the occasional hardy scrub brush clinging to existence.
It was like someone had dropped a piece of rainforest into the middle of a wasteland and forgotten to blend the edges.
We pushed deeper into the thick vegetation, Nansar moving with an easy grace that made me acutely aware of my own clumsiness. I struggled to keep vines from slapping me in the face, the undergrowth grabbing at my boots with every step. Low-hanging branches seemed determined to catch in my hair, and I had to duck and weave to avoid them.
"How much farther?" I asked, slightly breathless as I swatted away something that looked disturbingly like a massive centipede reaching for my arm.
"Just ahead," Nansar said, glancing back at me with what might have been amusement flickering in those bright eyes. "There's a clearing."
He wasn't wrong. A few more steps and the dense foliage suddenly opened up into a small circular space where light filtered down in pale, golden shafts through the canopy above. The ground here was carpeted in something that looked like moss but had a faint purple tinge, soft and inviting beneath my feet.
And standing next to a massive tree at the far edge of the clearing was a creature that stole the breath from my lungs.
I stopped short, my heart stuttering in my chest.
At first glance, it resembled a horse—the same powerful body, the elegant arch of neck, the four strong legs. But this was no Earth animal. This was something born of alien dreams and starlight. The creature's coat shimmered like liquid mercury, an iridescent pewter that rippled with undertones of emerald and amethyst as it moved. Its eyes—impossibly large and luminous—were the blue of deep ocean waters, with vertical pupils thatcontracted and expanded like a cat's, watching us with an intelligence that sent a shiver down my spine. When it exhaled, twin plumes of steam rose from flared nostrils, and I caught a glimpse of something glowing faintly within, like embers banked in a forge.
But it was the mane that truly captivated me. Thick, rope-like strands fell along its neck, each one moving independently—writhing, reaching, tasting the air with a sentience all their own. The creature's proportions were just slightly wrong, legs a touch too long, joints bending at angles that shouldn't be possible, movements too fluid, too graceful. It was beautiful and unsettling in equal measure—a living contradiction that made my pulse quicken with something between fear and fascination.
"What is that?" I breathed, unable to tear my eyes away.
"That is my kuda," Nansar said, and the warmth in his voice drew my attention back to him. He moved toward the creature with the easy confidence of a man approaching a beloved companion. "Her name is Starfield."
The animal's head swiveled toward us, and she made a sound—low and melodic, like wind chimes in a storm—that resonated in my chest. Those rope-like strands of mane lifted and swayed, reaching toward Nansar as if greeting him.
I stayed rooted to the spot, my fingers curling into my palms. "You've got to be kidding me."
The corner of Nansar's mouth lifted in a smile that transformed his face, softening the sharp angles and making him look almost boyish. "I assure you, I am not. Starfield is the fastest kuda on this planet." He ran his hand along the creature's neck in a gesture so tender it made something in my chest ache. Those living strands of mane curled toward his touch like curious fingers seeking warmth. "She is also strong enough to carry both of us without difficulty."
