way, they’d appear like distant cousins of a princess. Ones raised in the wild and possibly with less spoiling.
This one certainly lets no spoiling slow her down if she has any. She works efficiently, sparing no wasted movements as she scoops up rocks that fit her hand, tucking them against her front, and carrying them to the cart before returning to the pile.
Without a word, I take up a place beside her and begin collecting the boulders she cannot tackle—the ones no human can, and also the smaller ones that the other humans aren’t going to take because many seem to be intent on giving this human space. I wonder if humans are like some species of herding animals who tend to naturally shun those of their kind who are different. That would be a shameful instinct. And if they didn’t know before, they know now that this female is different. Because I thoughtlessly pointed it out before the Creator and everyone.
Gruffly, I offer, “I don’t engage with your kind when I can avoid it. But greetings, human.”
“Hi,” she greets me politely, neither nervous nor shy. It’s strangely… refreshing. Then she sends me a disturbing smile. It’s… happy. Maybe even playful. Her eyes make a sweep of my features before dipping down, down, down my torso.
My back snaps straight, all my dorsal spines falling in shock.
She licks her lips, her eyes jumping back up to mine. “I’m super honored you’re engaging with me, boss man.”
I study her. At first glance, she looks as plain as all the rest of the humans. But upon a more thorough inspection, her nose is pleasantly wide for a human, wider than all the other humans. Wider than a Gryfala’s by far (they are very fine-featured, always). This female though, she looks as if the Creator got tired of making dainty featured-clones all that day, and sculpted this one boldly.
It’s a small difference, but it makes her interesting to look at. A little more comely. Her skin is still unhealthy in its smoothness; if she were a Rakhii, her dam would have asked her sire to do the hard thing and smother her as a pup because she was born without scales (therefore saving her from a life of unnaturally thin-skinned pain)—but for a human, her skin is entirely normal. Unfortunate-looking, but for them, no cause for alarm.
My scrutiny of her draws out for so long, her expression falters for a click before she rallies her smile again. This action reminds me somewhat of Gracie, of that crazed human’s bravery. Certainly, that haranguing female who was spawned in the darkest recesses of the deepest abyss meets my fierceness head-on. I suppose I admire her for it, when I’m not clenching my hands into fists to stop myself from strangling her. I immediately appreciate that this one is quieter. “What is your name?” I ask.
Oddly-colored eyes meet mine. They are… grey. It’s such a subdued color—except that this female is not subdued at all. And so the odd color glows, somehow. As her lips tug higher on her face, as she watches me examining these windows she sees the world out of, her eyes begin to dance, her inner-self shines to such a degree that the muddied seaside-banks shade of her eyes becomes pleasant enough to look upon. If one must look upon a human, that is. “Isla,” she replies.
Iiiiiiiiila, my head repeats, the alien’s name purring through my system. Just the sound of it heats my insides strangely.
Isla seems to suffer no such effect. Passing me blithely, she drops her load of rock into the cart.
But when she does, I catch an enchanting whiff of her scent. Sharp, distinctively clean. Almost creamy, alien but wholly lickable.
WHAT THE HELLS—likeable! I meant LIKEABLE.
Immediately, my tongue’s surface begins to itch and tickle.
A Rakhii tongue develops pleasure bumps that aid in female satisfaction. The process of the pleasure node eruption begins when the male takes a mate.
I stick out my tongue and violently scrape the top of it with my claws.
Isla turns back to me, thankfully missing my action because she’s brushing her hand on the leg of her trousers. She’s looking at her hand, struggling in her effort to make it clean.
I bring my tongue back inside my mouth.
Isla finishes her inspection and swings her wiped hand in my direction saying, “Nice to meet you.”
My long ears raise up, the tips pointing high. Quickly, I snatch her hand before she can take it away.