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No longer did the gazes of countless alien males pierce through me; here, I was just Violet, a woman rediscovering the joys of simple living.
My first task of the day was to gather eggs.
The Vesperian chickens were curious creatures; their iridescent blue feathers shimmered in the morning light.
They had an extra pair of tiny wings on their backs and a melodious cluck that sounded more like a songbird’s chirp.
Their nests were nestled in the shade of tall, purple ferns.
As I approached, they curiously tilted their heads, examining me with their bright yellow eyes before continuing their morning forage.
Gently, I collected the eggs, their shells warm to the touch, and placed them in the woven basket.
After that, I made my way to the milking sheds.
The creature awaiting me there was a unique blend of familiar and alien.
It resembled a cow but was much larger, almost the size of a small elephant.
Its skin was a smooth, glossy lavender, and instead of hooves, it had six webbed feet that made soft squelching sounds as it moved.
Its eyes were large and doe-like, a deep shade of turquoise, and it had two long, spiraled horns that gleamed in the sun.
Elara had named her Lila.
Milking Lila was an experience in itself.
The milk was a light shade of blue and had a sweet, nutty aroma.
Lila hummed a low, comforting tune as I went about the task, her gentle eyes watching me with what I could only interpret as amusement.
When I was done, I gave her a pat, thanking her for her contribution.
With my tasks complete, I decided to take a moment for myself.
I found a shaded spot under a large tree with broad, silver leaves.
The breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, an intoxicating blend of sweetness and spice.
Closing my eyes, I let the sun kiss my face, its warmth seeping into my very bones.
A distant laughter broke my reverie.
I looked up to see Kuana in the fields, working alongside the farmer.
They seemed to be engaged in some banter, their laughter echoing in the vastness.
Kuana’s muscles flexed as he lifted large bundles of harvested crops with an ease that belied their weight.
His face was lit up with genuine happiness, a far cry from the tense, wary expression I had grown so used to seeing in Ikmal.
Here, he was free, unburdened by the weight of his past or the uncertainty of our future.
As I watched him, a dream began to take shape in my heart — a dream of owning a piece of land like this, where Kuana and I could grow our own food, raise our own animals, and build a life filled with love and laughter.
A place where we could be ourselves, away from the politics and prejudices of the universe.
A place where we could watch the sunset every evening, hand in hand, and wake up to the promise of a new day.
