Page 28 of Bred By Sor'en

The wind picks up, splattering my wild hair across my face as I fight it away. “But itisdangerous outside of the dome?” That bodes well for an escape plan. I need only to cross that barrier if that’s possible, and most likely they won't follow. They barely know me, nobody would risk themselves that way.

Even that thought seems to sour in my gut, my hand making its way to the tooth.

The sudden tension on the craft should make me wary, should have me eyeing the nearest exit. I flex my other free hand on the glimmering tech bar. I feel safe… oddly enough.

The female who cut Lyr’ael off steps up closer to me. I get the impression she’s more of a leader of the group, the oldest maybe, although none of them look anywhere close to old at all. It’s the air about her. Packs always have leaders. Ours from the education pod was a Strilgid male; he was deeply unpleasant. Hated me to all hell and ensured other children followed suit, although I never cared to ask why at the time. I had Sofaxi, and that was all that mattered. Even if Ihadcared at one point, with his six powerful legs, multifaceted eyes, and sharp mandibles, I was content enough to let him hate me from afar.

Mom told me once that humans had something similar to his kind on Earth, long before it fell. It was called aspider. I also remember the color bleaching from my face before she reassured me ours were far smaller.

“The dome protects all of us, but particularly the females. Do the wider galaxies truly not know what they do to us?”

My breath halts in my lungs as I shake my head. This makes one of the quieter females in the back clasp her hands together in excitement, as if seeing a famous pet do a special trick in person. I take a step back from the group. They must’ve looked up human gestures. It was common enough for educators to do in the pod. They’d learn a few for each species and adapt them. The human ones always stuck.

“They’re poachers,” the leader lady answers, her tone icy.

Lyr’ael makes what I assume is the Xyrelith equivalent of a scoff at that, a strange, curt, breathy sound. “It has been xentics since the last attack.”

It occurs to me only then that they’re all speaking in perfect universal. Strange for such an isolated species. My thoughts draw up short once her words actually sink in. “What do you mean, attack? Is that what poaching means? Hard to believe anyone taking one of you down.”

“That’swhythey do it,” the leader lady offers. “A female's toxins are more potent than a male’s. They poach to bleed us for drugs and weapons. They patrol constantly, waiting for one of us to step out. Nobody but us is allowed within the dome for that reason. Even dignitaries, when they bothered to visit ages ago, would stay outside.”

Something very close to indignation fills my chest. Not at them, strangely enough, butforthem. “So wait, that’s justit? Why not kill them? Fight instead of hiding?”

The leader laughs at that. Her hair nearly the same shade as Sor’en’s. “A Class D species taking on an alien aircraft that has done nothing to us at that point? Yes, let’s give the Intergalactic Alliance more of a reason to despise us. Okay, so then let's show them proof of what's been done. We’ve tried. We’re too advanced to need help, too dangerous for anyone to volunteer any.”

That irritation spreads, the all too familiar feeling of the bitter unfairness of this world is a constant across all boards. “That’sfucked up,” I offer unhelpfully because what the fuck am I going to offer them? I’ve got no wisdom and I’m terrible with words. More so, I’m a human. No foot to stand on. It just sucks. Shit sucks until you’re too old to give a shit and you make life suck even harder for everyone else around you instead.

The quiet female from the back of the group pokes her head in at that. “You have a question about mating?”

“Huh?”

Oh shit.

“No.” I laugh. “Fuck to humans means a lot of things… like, you know,that. It can also denote frustration or excitement.”

“Fuck,” Lyr’ael offers with the utmost support, her hand fisted in unity.

I almost laugh but only manage a smile and nod instead. What will they think of me when I leave? Will they understand? Will they hate me for the state I leave him in?

“Go with balance, Lyr’ael,” another scolds.

It only now crosses my mind that I asked zero helpful questions on the journey regarding what to expect tonight. Before I can rectify that, my eyes widen, my mind blanking at the sprawling city center that opens before us. Like a hidden city nestled in the middle of a sprawling garden. As we enter, I’m not sure what I had expected, but the sheer quietness of the bustling center wasn’t it. Several open stalls are shutting down for the day, their owners' long arms filled with goods, as one of the females helps me from the cart.

I barely have my footing before a large male, perhaps even larger than Sor’en, all but appears in front of us.

The females almost in unison nod in greeting. “Go with balance, Balla’mar.”

“Go with balance,” he responds, but his eyes are on me. More so on the space above my head.

I glance at the females surrounding me to find their gazes locked on the space above his head as well. Seeing something I clearly—

Oh, the death sight.

Goosebumps spread across my flesh, my chest shrinking its cage until it feels like little more than a vice around the sudden pounding of my heart.

“It is an honor to meet you, human. I hope that you find our dome welcoming.”

I sputter over my words. “I-ugh, y-yes, thank you.”