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Tension settles like a blanket over everyone as the chief looks around the table at his gathered tribe, meeting each of their gazes. Even the youngest member of the tribe, a small toddler, seems to sense the unease and he begins to grow fussy in the arms of the large warrior holding him until the man settles him down with a shushing whisper.
Worry setlles over me and burns in my stomach like acid, threatening to make me upchuck the stew I just finished eating. I realize I’m clutching hard at Draggar’s hand like it’s a lifeline, and it honestly feels like it is.
Just as I’m about to give up hope entirely, Chief Daggir clears his throat before turning to face me. If it wasn’t for the kindness in his eyes and the slight upturn to the corners of his wide mouth, I would fear him. Even though he is a large, intimidating alien with a wicked looking sword, I have a feeling he’s a wise and caring leader, too.
As he smiles gently at me, I can feel a small kernel of optimism begin to grow inside my chest.
“Haley. . .” The chief glances over at Draggar, whose hand hasn’t left mine, and continues, “The Anuriix tribe will be honored to assist you and the other humans.”
I let out a burst of air that I didn’t realize I was holding as relief floods over me. My smile is so wide that my face feels like it’s going to crack open, and I look over to see Draggar wearing a matching expression. His hard face is wreathed by a grin so joyful that it makes my heart ache in happiness.
Excitement descends as plans are quickly made, with many of the gathered males calling out suggestions. The storm cloud that we saw the day before dropped a lot of rain in the Anuriix territory and the chief warns us that the waterways are swollen from the rain and our trip to my friends will take longer than normal. It’s decided that Draggar will choose the warriors who will accompany us to the crash site.
Chief Daggir instructs Vrenner to quickly repair as many translator chips as he can and offer them to any tribe members who wish to receive one and that he can accompany us to recover any materials from the ship that might be useful to the tribe. Vrenner swiftly scrambles back to his workshop to begin work on the translators, with one of the younger aliens by his side to assist him.
After I share the details about Emily’s condition, the tribe’s medic, a tall man named Warrix offers to accompany us in case she still needs treatment, and he quickly disappears to gather the supplies he will need.
Once Draggar has rattled off a list of three other aliens, nearly everyone else disperses, either to gather supplies and prepare for our departure in the morning or to their huts. I imagine the gossip will be hot in the village tonight, and that I and the other humans will be the topic of conversation.
Even Blue Toga Guy, who sat near the chief, silently watching everything, his cold eyes raking over me, leaves to go do who knows what.
Draggar and I are left sitting at the table with his father, while two older, silver skinned aliens chat companionably as they clean the dinner dishes. Their quiet whispers reach me, and I can just barely hear them as they excitedly discuss the alien. I chuckle to myself at the thought that I’m the alien, but I guess they’re correct since I’m on their planet.
Chief Daggir clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice contains a thread of steel that wasn’t present earlier. “Would you care to explain what you were doing on Tussoll territory, son?”
Chapter 26
Haley
I can feel the sudden tension in Draggar almost like it’s sitting right beside me. His strong jaw is clenched so tightly I fear he’ll break a fang. I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything will be okay, but I settle for placing my hand on his arm to let him know that I’m right beside him. From everything he said, he was expecting this.
I remember him telling me during one of our “talks” on the journey here that the chief of his tribe had not given him permission to spy on the other tribes, but that he had felt it was important to do so for the safety of his tribe.
And I agree with him. I’ve never dealt with territory disputes and rumors of attack, but I have experienced the headache that is office politics. And it’s always better to be as informed as possible before making any decisions.
“I went to check on the Xeniiv and Tussoll. . .” Draggar begins to speak, his voice strong and his head held high with confidence. “To see if the rumors Jaran has been telling are true. If they are preparing for an attack.”
His father waits patiently for Draggar to continue. “The Xeniiv have a new chief. You remember Sevvern, yes?”
“The young male who preferred slaughtering defenseless dicro newlings because they were easier to hunt?” The chief asks, disbelief in his voice.
Jeez, killing baby animals? This Sevvern guy really does not sound like a very nice person.
Draggar nods. “He is their new leader after Chief Aarixon died – under suspicious circumstances, if you ask me.” The chief’s gaze narrows with speculation as he listens to Draggar tell him about this Sevvern guy being made the medic for his tribe and confining the old chief to his hut until he died.
“Sevvern has had their food – except what is not fit to ingest – stored in his hut under lock and key. Their game has been driven from their lands. Where once their territory was plentiful with food, their plains and the jungle that covers a portion of their land now lie empty of dicro or scrof or any of the other animals we depend upon for food. Their fruiting trees and plants have been poisoned.”
Draggar pauses before adding, “The Xeniiv are starving. They have lost many males already.” I can feel the shock that greets those words and Draggar’s sadness at the thought of anyone going hungry.
“I met a young Xeniiv hunter named Sevix. He was returning from our hunting grounds with a dicro. He said Chief Sevvern has told them that we are the ones who have stolen their game and poisoned their land.” There is a thread of disbelief in Draggar’s voice. He takes a deep breath and finishes, “And you were leading the warriors who did so.”
A loud bang rings out as Chief Daggir slaps his hand against the thick wooden surface of the table and rises to his feet. His face is flushed a dark mottled steel color, and it’s obvious the other tribe’s accusation has greatly upset him.
“Impossible!” He roars. “The Anuriix are an honorable tribe.”
The two older aliens who were busy cleaning and chatting stopped immediately to stare when they heard their chief’s loud pronouncement. After a moment of stunned silence, they return to their duties, but their startled gazes continually return to us.
“That is what I told him, and I think he finally believed me. After I told him that we would not want to see another tribe hungry when we can help. I gave him permission to hunt on our lands. I should have consulted you first, but. . .”
