But this one—this stranger staring out across the desert with chilling intensity—he radiates danger in a way that makes my instincts scream. There’s nothing I can point to specifically, nothing I can articulate, but something about him feels…wrong. Hostile. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and my heart hammers against my ribs with such force I’m certain it must be audible.

Is this another member of Rok’s tribe? His clan? I don’t think so. Not with the way Rok is hiding from him, concealing both of us in the shadow of the rock, his body positioned to shield me completely.

The stranger moves along the ridge, his movements fluid and powerful, scanning the terrain. Like Rok, he is silent and I think he is alone when another of his kind launches themselves up on the rock, too. This newcomer is just as large. Just as powerful.

They’re not alone. From my limited vantage point, I can make out at least another moving on the far side of the ridge—similar in build and coloring, all with the same predatory alertness. Hunting. They’re hunting something.

Or someone.

I stare at the first alien, unable to look away despite the fear coiling in my gut. And then, as if he can feel my gaze—feel my thoughts—his head snaps in our direction.

I stop breathing. My heart seems to stutter and freeze in my chest. His eyes—darker than Rok’s—feel like those of a lion as he stares directly at our hiding spot.

Does he see us? Can he sense us somehow?

Slowly, so slowly it feels like time has stretched to breaking, I tuck my head behind Rok’s shoulder, breaking the line of sight. I don’t dare move. Don’t dare breathe. The pounding in my head fades to background noise, drowned out by the roaring of blood in my ears and the single, terrifying thought looping through my mind:

Rok isn’t alone on this planet. His species—whatever they are—aren’t a single unified group. And the ones out there right now aren’t friendly.

I thought I’d be happy to see more signs of life. But this…this is a problem.

A very, very big problem.

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Chapter 21

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THE DUST PROVIDES. (SOMETIMES)

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ROK

The dust is silent now, but I do not trust it.

The hunters are close. Too close.

I hold still, my body pressed against the stone, my skin blending seamlessly with the rock face. The female is curled against me, her breaths shallow, her body trembling ever so slightly in my arms. I can feel her confusion, her fear—emotions that radiate from her like heat waves rising from the dunes.

But she does not make a sound. She trusts me to keep her safe, even if she does not realize it yet.

I cannot fail her.

Above us, more hunters move with the precision of a stalking shadowmaw, their footsteps light but deliberate. I can feel the vibrations through the stone, each one a reminder of the danger we are in. They are searching, their senses sharp and attuned to the smallest disturbance. Their presence is wrong here—out of place.

This is not their territory.

Their scent is unfamiliar, but the markings on their skin… Those, I recognize. The rival clan. One that roams the dust, taking what they need from those too weak to defend it. They are drifters, scavengers, raiders. And they are deadly.

The one on the ridge—bronze-skinned, his hair like copper fire—turns his head, scanning the horizon with eyes fierce like a beast. His nostrils flare, scenting the air, and for a moment, I am certain he has found us.

I shift my grip on Jus-teen, pulling her closer against me, shielding her entirely with my body. Her soft form presses against my chest and I am once again reminded that she is so small. So fragile.

The thought sends a surge of protectiveness through me, so fierce it borders on pain. I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay still, to focus. If they find us, I will not survive this fight. Not in my current state. Not with her to protect.

I close my eyes, drawing in a measured breath. The scent of her fills my senses—sweet and strange, not found anywhere else on Xiraxis. It grounds me, sharpens my thoughts. The hunters may be stronger, faster, and uninjured, but I have something they do not.

A purpose.

I will not let them take her.

The vibrations of their footsteps grow fainter. They are moving away, their search carrying them farther along the ridge. I do not relax. Not yet. The dust is patient, and so am I.

Jus-teen shifts slightly in my arms, her head tilting as if trying to see past me. I tighten my hold on her, a silent command to stay still. She freezes, her small hands gripping my chest.

Good. She understands.

The hunters remain in view for several more moments before they disappear over the far side of the ridge. I wait, counting beats of my dra-kir, my claws flexing against the stone. One hundred beats. Then two hundred. Only when I am certain they are gone do I allow myself to exhale.

“Safe,” I push toward her.

Jus-teen looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and filled with questions. She speaks, her voice soft and hesitant, but the meaning is lost to me.

I wish I could answer her. I wish I could tell her what the hunters are, why they are here, why they cannot find us. But the words will not come. My tongue is clumsy, my throat unpracticed in shaping sounds. Either way, I do not believe she would understand. And I…I have destroyed her chance to communicate.

Instead, I set her down and gesture for her to stay low, pressing my hand flat against the rock to emphasize the need for caution. Her brow furrows, but she presses her chin to her chest twice before following my lead as I begin to move.

The shadows are our ally now. Ain is low in the sky, her light dimming and the stone formations casting long, jagged shadows across the dust. I keep to them, my movements slow, my senses alert for any sign of the hunters’ return.

Jus-teen stays close behind me, her footsteps light but clumsy compared to mine. She is untrained, her movements unrefined, but she is quiet. Her instincts are good.

We reach the base of the ridge, where the shadows are deepest, and I pause to scan the terrain ahead. The dust stretches endlessly before us, broken only by the distant rise of another stone formation. It is far, but that is where we are headed. We cannot stay here.

I turn to Jus-teen and incline my head toward the formation in the distance. Her gaze follows, and I can see the exhaustion in her posture. The strain in her movements. She is not built for this.

I will carry her.

I crouch before her, gesturing for her to climb onto my back. She hesitates, her expression uncertain, but then she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my neck as I rise to my full height, securing her legs with my hands.

Her weight is nothing to me, even in my weakened state. She clings to me, her cheek pressed against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. Something about the sensation sends a strange flutter through my chest, different from the pain of separation I felt earlier. This is…pleasant.

I move swiftly now, keeping to the shadows before we’re in the open dust, my strides eating up the distance between us and the distant formation. Jus-teen remains silent, her grip firm but not restrictive, trusting me to carry her safely.

But as the journey continues, I can feel Jus-teen’s discomfort in the way she shifts against me, seeking relief even from Ain’s dying gaze. She was not made for the dust, for this harsh, unforgiving landscape.