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Birds chirp and sing all around us and squirrel-like animals with silver fur and long, bushy tails chatter and bound from tree to tree above us making me smile. Lush vines trail down from the treetops, some of them covered in orange orchid-like blooms with petals so thin and delicate I can almost see through them. I spot more of the big blue trumpet-shaped flowers, these even taller than the one I saw at the crash site. It seems things grow big on this planet. The leaves on the largest trees are massive, bigger than an elephant’s ear and they cast a large shadow over everything.
There are other vines that snake through the undergrowth, some with bright purple berries hanging in clumps. During one of our breaks, Draggar gives me a large handful nestled on a waxy leaf pulled from the vine. The berries are plump with juice and burst in my mouth with a sweet flavor that flows over my taste buds. They taste almost like a combination of ripe cherries and vanilla. That’s when I realize they’re the same kind of berry that was in the jerky mixture we finished this morning. God, they’re so good I could eat a whole bushel of them.
Draggar has told me that we should be as quite as possible while we’re still in the other tribe’s territory, but through hand motions and a few whispered questions when we’ve stopped for a bit, I learned the berries are called bilb and the really tall trees that stretch high in the sky are cupressi.
I’ve tried to copy the way he silently moves through the jungle, carefully placing his feet to cause the least amount of disturbance, but I probably still sound like a herd of buffalo tromping about compared to him.
Earlier, we refilled the waterskin from a stream that had crystal clear water flowing over a rocky bottom. The water is fresh and cool and quenches my thirst as I take a sip from it during our trek through the steamy jungle.
Based on how long we’ve been walking, I think it is still early in the morning, but the heat of the day has already set in and I’m starting to get a little too warm in my flannel pajamas. They may have been perfect for winter on Earth, but not for the heat of this planet.
I rolled the legs and sleeves of my pajamas up as far as I could get them earlier in the day. Now, I’m tempted to cut some of the material away, but I decide not to. The nights here are cool enough to make me appreciate the coverage my pajamas provide. But for the umpteenth time, I wish I had a change of clothes and a bath. Even a cold bath would feel heavenly right now.
Or shoes. Shoes would be nice.
I glance down at my feet still encased in the red and green fluffy socks I was wearing when I was abducted. While they’re cozy and thick, they’re not exactly the best footwear for hiking.
So far, they’ve managed to offer some protection to my feet as the ground is mostly covered with a thick springy undergrowth and dead leaves from the surrounding plants, but they won’t hold out much longer. I can already feel blisters forming and the ankle I think I sprained has started to swell again, and I know by the end of the day, I’ll probably be hobbling around.
Sweat trickles down my back and moisture pools under my boobs as we continue to walk, and I know my face is probably beet red from the heat. I pull the thick flannel of my top away from my body, hoping to let a little air in to circulate, but it doesn’t seem to do much good. I eye Draggar’s loincloth with renewed appreciation and wonder if I could get away with wearing one. It looks a lot cooler than my own clothes.
In front of me, Draggar comes to a sudden halt and holds his arm out, forcing me to a stop. He is still with not a single muscle even twitching, and his eyes, which are back to silver, are trained on something straight ahead of us. The only part of him that moves is his ears which swivel and twitch in response to the sounds around us.
It’s obvious his senses are leagues better than mine, and I’ve learned to watch his ears and nose for clues about what is going on.
There have been a couple of times since we’ve been traveling through the jungle when he’s come to a complete stop, his senses trained on something I couldn’t detect, and then after a few quiet moments, he’s led us into the underbrush to wait, undetected.
One time a dinosaur passed right by us and another time, it was a hairy being that made Draggar silently bare his teeth and place his hand on the hilt of his sword. Once the creature had passed, he whispered that it was an enemy of his species and that it and the other tribe were responsible for his injury.
I’ve tried to listen closely for whatever it is he hears, but I never notice anything other than what sounds like normal jungle noises.
Tension settles over me, and I strain my eyes trying to see what it is that has caught his attention this time, and that’s when I notice it. Up ahead, an animal lazily ambles onto the path in front of us. It’s about the size of a black bear, but it’s definitely not a bear.
The creature is nearly a hundred feet ahead of us with its head bent over and it looks as if it’s rooting through the soil. It’s covered in thick scaley blue skin, and a line of stiff black hairs juts up straight down the creature’s back, almost like a mohawk. Its body is thick and roped with muscles, and its large belly hangs below it almost touching the ground. Two sharp tusks stick out of its mouth and a long, wide snout ends in a nose that is flat and unmistakably pig-like. Small black horns curl from the top of its head and the animal grunts as it uses a short hooved foot to scratch at the ground.
Holy cow, it's the alien version of a pig.
While I’ve been distracted studying the not-a-pig, Draggar has moved his hand to one of the daggers at his waist and stealthily crept closer to the animal. His hand moves in a blur as it releases the knife to fly in an arc towards the animal. Before I can blink, the knife hits its target, embedding itself deeply into the neck of the creature and it falls over dead before it can even react.
My mouth drops open in amazement at how quickly everything happened.
Draggar quickly moves over to the alien pig and removes his knife from its neck. He bends over and swiftly begins to skin the animal with precise, expert cuts of his blade. I inch closer to watch over his shoulder as he slices through the thick hide of the animal with the sharp knife in his hand.
I’ve never been one to shy away from where food comes from, but I feel myself growing squeamish as I watch his hands swiftly skin the animal and flay the meat off its bones. I try to force the roiling of my stomach down and concentrate on the thought of enjoying fresh meat for a meal.
It seems like it’s been forever since I had an actual, proper meal. Don’t get me wrong, the jerky was delicious, but I’d sell my right arm for some real food. I can feel my mouth practically watering at the thought and any squeamishness I felt is soon quashed.
His voice is quiet as he turns to me and points at a nearby bush with large, round leaves the size of serving platters. “Haley, could you get me four beng leaves?”
I pull off several of the big, waxy feeling leaves and watch in amazement as Draggar uses them to wrap around the meat, almost like a rustic version of saran wrap. He packs the wrapped meat away in the satchel he carries on his shoulders. Then, he takes the hide he cut from the animal, rolls it up, and places it in the satchel, too.
All of this was accomplished in a skillfully efficient manner in what seemed like mere minutes. It’s clear he’s done this very same action many times before, and I am again impressed. I don’t think I could ever kill or clean an animal, but if we stay on this planet, it might be a skill I’ll have to learn.
After we continue our journey, we walk for what feels like hours. I’m getting better at telling what time of the day it is based on the position of the sun. I think it’s probably close to midday, but I’m not sure. And it’s not like I have a watch or a phone with me to check.
Draggar comes to a stop again, his brow creased in concentration, and I wonder if there’s another not-pig around. Or maybe a not-cow. I could really go for a burger.
He tilts his head back and his nostrils flare open as he takes a deep breath and fills his lungs with air. I wait while he sniffs the air, my shoulders held stiff with apprehension and my eyes glued to the big alien. Finally, after a few seconds, he turns to me. His wide mouth stretches into a smile and his eyes twinkle with delight, and I feel myself instantly relax. He tilts his head to the side in a gesture that I’ve come to learn means he wants me to follow him.
