I’m not quite sure what I’d expected his home to look like, but its elegant and rustic exterior with panoramic floor to ceiling windows wasn’t quite it. It, like the other homes nearby, is spaced so vastly that it’d take me a solid twenty minutes to walk between the two. There are no yards, fences, or barriers. Just looks like someone picked up a home and plopped it in the middle of a field seamlessly, just part of the land. The mount, whose name I now know is Valoryx, shifts underneath me, my fingers still knotted and white knuckling in his mane as Fafnir dismounts easily behind me, sliding off the back of the large animal like it’s nothing.
My eyes are still taking in the house when my skin prickles, finding his intense gaze already on me. I gather the skirt of my dress up over my thighs to cover myself as I swing a leg over. His eyes dip, watching the movement with a warrior’s focus before he reaches up, plucking me from the saddle as one would a child. I’ve never considered myself heavy per se, but never delicately built either. As far as he’s concerned, I’m no more than a feather. There’s something oddly alluring about that. The moment his back had left mine on the mount, the cold air had rushed back in, his body heat no longer there to ward off the worst of the chill. My teeth chatter wildly as he ushers me inside. The lack of a lock on the door sends my brows shooting skyward. On Terra2 and old Earth, by the sounds of it, anything not bolted down was free game.
Including you.
Now, instead of just worrying about other humans, we get to worry about aliens too, dropping into Terra2 atmosphere and taking us simply because, more often than not, there’s nothing anyone is going to do about it. The Intergalactic Alliance might do some half assed investigation before deeming the human lost to space and washing their hands of it.
I’m pulled by my thoughts as Fafnir drapes a soft, swathing fur pelt over my back, tucking it around me like a swaddle and heading for the large circular hearth that commands and dominates the middle of the dwelling. “This time of year is usually considered too warm for us to build fires indoors. You’ll have to forgive me for not readying one for you.” He grumbles.
“It’s alright, the wind was the worst part, really.”
His eyes flick toward mine, displeased with whatever he finds on my face.
I try to shake off the disappointed feeling that comes with that, directing my attention away from the large alien warrior building a fire in the hearth. Not flicking a switch or commanding an AI to start one, but building it. Even on Terra2, I’ve never seen anyone do that.
Instead of watching like I’m itching to do, I turn my eyes to the sky-high vaulted ceilings, realizing how uncomfortable it would’ve been for him to shift himself into that waiting room at Vortara Station. The inside of the home is as wide and open as the field it rests in, but filled with varying shades of brown, from dark to light, that keep it feeling warm and cozy. The entire back half of the house seems to be made up of windows. My feet act of their own volition, bringing me there.
Homesickness strikes harder than ever.
It’s beautiful. The land, the house, but all I can think of is my mom and sisters back home with the dirt floor and rusted metal tables. Furs and rugs could almost be mistakenly thrown around the cozy and bright living room with no rhyme or reason until you take a step back and see the space as a whole. A huge, worn chair bears more signs of use than anything in the house. My lips almost quirk, having just found his favorite place to sit. The long bed sized couch is heaping with furs and pillows as well, but looks as staged and unused as the rest.
“The documents indicated humans appreciate warm, soft bedding.” He explains, now lording beside the hearth. His proud horns stretching skyward.
I nod, “Thank you, it-it’s beautiful here.”
His chest fills at that, gifting me a noncommittal grunt I nearly roll my eyes at. Various weapons line the walls, the worn handles showing signs they are or at least were a more functional place to store them versus an artistic choice.
He gestures toward the hearth. “Warm yourself female, I will tend the Sihlih.” Then he stalks from the house, the door shutting a little too hard behind him.
I frown, begrudgingly doing as he says, all the while wondering what the fuck a Shil-uh is and why it needs to be tended more than the woman he intends to impregnate.
Plus, I really need to pee.
Fafnir
My hooves stomp across the frosted grass as I approach the mounts, my mood only souring the longer the little female, Lenora, is in my presence. Not by any fault of her own, simply her weak physical makeup. Already, I fear I’m making a mess of this caring for her venture. Her soft, smooth cheeks are ruddy and chapped from the ride on Valoryx. The only thing keeping me from cursing that decision was the delightful way she’d molded to my front, shrinking into me for safety when she was unsure.
The others saw it too; it was a statement; she thought of me as… safe.
Something I had long thought was impossible for a soft little female.
The barbarian level of pride that floods my chest next is… only further unsettling. Her hands had shaken like leaves as she strode proudly past my Sihlih. The stupid beast had taunted her, and she still found it in herself to gift him a bright smile, trying to stifle her excited laughter as he raced home. Showing out for the pretty female, no doubt. The desire to roar in correction filled my throat, but it would only undermine his growing respect for her.
Failure to earn the respect of the stubborn, proud mountainous beast is often met with a brutal end. The Sihlih have served my people since the Gods walked these once frozen and barren lands. Valhyr, the God of War and Valor, often depicted astride one; he is said to have even fathered the first. They are not known as war mounts for nothing. My palm runs over the flank of Valoryx. As deadly as they are, once they accept you, they are amongst the most brainless protective beasts you could have the honor of working with.
It’s why I train them.
There is no reason for a creature every bit as deadly as I to skirt away as I walk past. Valoryx fought underneath me, shed as much blood as I. My only companion in those times, who never looked at me from the corner of his eye, wondering when my mind would betray me. I drop his saddle onto the post, returning to press my forehead to his. “Nythra.” I murmurer. It’s not a command, but a release. He and the others who followed him may return to their nests or do as they please.
He takes a few leisurely steps forward as the others run off, huffing his giant, dark blue colored nose pressed to the front door, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. She’d all but bound her hands in his mane, an intense show of trust and bonding done between a Sihlih and its rider early in its training.
I ignore his lingering, snagging my kit from the back side outbuilding, letting my mind wander because, for the life of me, I can’t fathom why I’m avoiding her. By all rights, I should be doting on the human, ensuring she wants for nothing… connecting with her so that when the time comes, she opens for me without reservation. Instead, I polish a freshly polished saddle, letting my mind wander if my young will bond with Valoryx or a Sihlih of their own, long after I’m gone. Even that normally endearing fantasy doesn’t shake the tendril of worry billowing in my gut.
How long will it take before I have to bring her into Halthara, our community’s center? How long before she, too, looks at me with hidden, apprehensive glances? Will her pulse spike in terror as I mount her? How long before she fears me like the rest do?
And why in Valhyr’s honor do I care?
I need her for offspring, not her flighty human approval of my home or all the ridiculous soft furs I compiled for her. She’s a means to an end, a breeder ensuring my line doesn’t fade with me.
