Ice Planet Barbarians (Ice Planet Barbarians, #1)(11)

As I do so, I realize there’s a face on the other side of the water staring back at me. A face with a huge mouth, jagged teeth, and bulging fish eyes. And the stalk I’m holding? Appears to be attached to its nose.

I scream and stumble backward just as the thing lunges forward, snapping at me.

I keep screaming and crab walk back, away from the edge of the water. The thing stirs, moving slightly away from the surface, its nasty mouth working. Then it sinks in and the stalk gives a small shiver before moving back in place.

Holy fuck.

Holy . . . fuck. I just nearly got eaten by an alien fish . . . thing.

I stare, wide-eyed, at the happily burbling stream. At the enormous stalks sticking out of it. At the ones that are taller than a two-story building. Are all of those . . . monsters?

I turn and run. Breath huffing, I sprint as best as I can through the snow, back up the hill. Back through the feathery blue-green trees. Screw all this. I am not equipped to deal with alien life forms on an alien planet. My lungs rasp and my ribs hurt like the blazes and I landed on my wrist back there and none of that matters because I am not stopping.

As I pass one of the strange trees, something whips around my ankles.

I barely have time to scream before the thing drags me backwards and I’m hauled, upside down, into the branches of the tree, my feet caught and bound together.

I scream over and over again, twisting, turning. The ground is at least a foot or two below me, and I can’t touch it. Down there? My club-slash-gun. I dropped it when whatever this is hauled me backward.

When nothing happens, I stop flailing and panicking and try to figure things out. I bend over, flopping through the air, and get a good look at my feet. They’re tied with something that looks like rope. If I wriggle enough . . . that definitely looks like a knot. The other end of the cord is tied higher in the branches. I whimper and fall quiet, and I just sway back and forth gently in the tree.

I . . . I’ve walked into a snare of some kind.

On one hand, this is encouraging. There’s intelligent life here, right? Which is exciting because it means we’re not alone.

But I can’t overlook the fact that I’m in a hunting snare and something could decide I’m dinner. I remember a scene in Star Wars where Luke found himself upside down in the snow creature’s cave. And I start panicking again, because I know how this sort of thing goes down. Luke’s able to free himself before the creature eats him because he’s a Jedi.

Me? I’m just a Floridian in a stolen space suit with no weapon and a busted wrist. I know how this is going to end.

I whimper and wriggle some more, working my feet and trying to free them from the noose that’s holding me fast, upside down.

I don’t want to be here when the owner of this trap comes back looking for dinner.

Wiggling my feet doesn’t work, so for the next minute or two, I concentrate on trying to stretch far enough to reach my gun. Not that I know how to fire it, but I’ll feel better if I have it. It’s getting harder to think, though, and the longer I hang here, the harder my head pounds.

It’s probably not good for me to hang upside down for a long time, I realize. How long can a human hang upside down before all the blood rushes to their head and they die?

I twist even harder, and as I do, I realize there’s something new on the edge of my vision. I stop moving and stare as a white, furry figure approaches.

Shit. It’s too late. I’m dinner.

“No,” I moan and struggle again. But my body can’t keep up with the demands I’m putting on it. My head throbs, and then I pass out cold just as the monster starts to move toward me.

At least I won’t be awake to feel it eat me.





VEKTAL


I don’t recognize the . . . thing . . . squirming in my trap.

This is new.

I approach it cautiously, my blade drawn. A moment ago it was dancing and writhing, and now it’s gone limp. The smell is sa-khui and yet . . . not. Curious. I poke it with the tip of my sword to see if it will jump once more, but it does not. The wind is picking up, the cold air preparing for the little moon’s arrival, the twin suns heading to their beds.

With the tip of my sword, I slice the cord binding its legs, and it flops to the ground, lying in the snow.

And then I am shocked anew as my khui resonates inside me. My inward being, which has lain dormant for so long, which recognizes no mate amongst my people? It vibrates and sings at the sight of this new creature. I stare at it.

My thoughts confused and whirling, I snatch it into my arms and sprint for the nearest hunting cave.

It is the bitter season, when hunters must be cautious when journeying out far from the home caves. There are a series of hunting caves that only see use on the coldest of nights, when a hunter is many sprints away from home. They are ingrained into my brain after turn upon countless turn of hunts, and I find the nearest one’s location easily. I push aside the leathery flap protecting the entrance and set my burden down on the floor. A quick shake of the furs does not reveal hidden occupants, so I move the she-creature—for it must be a she—to them. Her teeth clack together, making the cold sound that young sometimes make before they’re sa-khui, so I touch her eyelid and pry it open to see if she is lit from within.

The eye underneath is white, dull. There is no khui inside her, or if there is, it is dead. She will need to be treated as if a child, then. I make a fire quickly and wait for it to warm her. And because my curiosity has the best of me, I examine her. I tell myself it’s simply to determine if she is wounded, but my mind sings with curiosity, my khui vibrating within my chest with a song that’s growing greater with every possible moment.