The Alien's Equal (Drixonian Warrior #7) - Ella Maven

One

Justine

I crouched low against the outside wall of my building, trying to control my breathing, as I waited for the mingo to show itself. Dusk was when the little creature ventured up a tree near outside the main wall and took a flying leap with its arms out and skin flaps extended like a flying squirrel to enter the camp.

In front of me, between my spread knees, sat Bazel. Her body quivered with excitement and her tail thumped the ground. I gripped it in my hand to stop the sound and she turned around to shoot me an apologetic grin.

I returned her smile, because honestly, as the daughter of a human and Drixonian, she was the cutest thing I’d seen in my life. About five years old, she would be full-grown in another five or six. She had human-like blue flesh instead of Drixonian scales. Her little horns were small but had grown considerably since she’d arrived at our clavas, so the tips had narrowed to a dull point. It was her freckles which got me. Darker blue dots scattered across the bridge of her nose and reminded me so much of my sister my heart ached.

Maybe that was why I could never say no to her. Well, that and the rest of my human friends were shacked up. Bazel was the only one who seemed to have time for me anymore. Not that I was complaining. I was happy for my friends. And I preferred spending time with the young Drixonian-human hybrid since the last thing I wanted was a mate.

With our pockets full of leftovers, we’d made excuses to leave dinner early. We’d snuck behind the building where my room was located and heaped a plate full of a few pivar ribs, some antella nuggets—an Anna recipe—and some fruit. We set the feast at the base of the wall and waited, like we’d done every day at dusk since we caught the little mingo peering down at us at the top of the wall.

We learned the mingo was less an omnivore and more of a scavenger. It would eat anything and had even tried to chew on a bowl that we’d left out full of water.

“Do you think he’ll come?” Bazel asked.

He didn’t come every day, although the trips had been much more frequent since we started putting out food. Still, even if we didn’t see him, the plate was always empty when we checked it in the morning.

“I hope so,” I whispered.

In the distance, leaves rustled, and Bazel squeaked with anticipation. I held my breath just as I caught sight of striped fur sailing through the air. The mingo landed on the ground about ten feet away in a low crouch. The animal had a face only a mother could love, but that didn’t stop Bazel and I from hoping to catch a glimpse of it every day.

About the size of a small dog, its short fur was a dull green with stripes of a darker green. Not a pretty green, but a kind of dull army green. The skin that stretched to give it the ability to glide was hairless and hung limp at its side in rest. It gazed around warily with huge round eyes before stretching out a three-fingered hand and snatching a meaty bone off the plate.

The best part was it hummed when it ate—a weird musical sound which reminded me of an out-of-tune piano. Bazel covered her mouth, but her shoulders still shook with her giggles. Even I had to bury my face in her dark hair to contain my laughter.

The Drix considered mingoes pests, similar to how we viewed raccoons on Earth, but I’d always been a sucker for the neglected and outcasts, so I refused to tell anyone a mingo had been sneaking into the compound. The Drix would most likely kill it and feed it to either Luna—Reba’s welf—or Brutus—Bazel’s pet blukas.

I didn’t want the mingo to be welf or dog food. I found it kind of endearing with its round panda-like ears and fuzzy tail. The rest of its face was smushed like a Himalayan cat, which was cute on Earth animals, but odd on this already weird-looking animal.

Bazel sighed softly and whispered. “Mozart is so cute.”

That was the other thing. We’d named it. I’d mentioned Mozart because of its musical-eating, and Bazel had pounced on the word. She had sat engrossed when I told her all about the famous composer. So that was it. The mingo was Mozart