Page 11 of January Bell

“You should eat,” I say. “Sit down and I will cook for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she tells me, stubborn set to her eyes and mouth that I’ve come to know better than the shape of the talons on my own hand.

“I know I don’t have to,” I tell her, confused. “I want to do it. You’re tired. You’ve been hanging by your foot for hours because I left you, and I have the means to make you food, to create a meal for you while you rest.”

Her eyes narrow further, creases in her brow showing up alongside new freckles that I swear were not there merely days ago.

“Why do you fight me on this?” I ask her, genuinely intrigued. “Does it mean something in your culture for a male to cook for his female?”

She opens her mouth, and I can tell that I’ve misspoken, so I hold a hand up. “A female,” I say. “I’m not claiming you as my own. I know that you do not like that.”

It is a lie, and a bad one a that.

I am absolutely claiming her as my own. But it’s a lot easier to claim her if she’s not arguing with me about every single time I slip up and make it clear that I think of her as mine already.

She throws up her hands, sighing, exasperated, before nodding in agreement.

“Fine,” she says. “If you don’t want me to help cook, I will sit here and let you do it all.”

“Good,” I tell her, nodding in agreement. “I am happy to serve you this meal.”

She gives me a long look, then bends over and begins sorting through the nearest tub.

I keep an eye on her as I start the fire in the grate with the provided fuel source. There are all kinds of spices and sauces and vegetables in the totes, and it takes me no time at all to sniff out the ones I think my small human will like best.

Before long, the grill is full of sizzling meats and vegetables, and my little human has her face cradled in her arms as she watches me from where she’s half-asleep on the table. It fills my heart with a gladness I don’t think I’ve ever felt to see her calm in my presence and to know that I will be the one to make sure she has sustenance this night.

The chicken behind us squawks, and we both startle, having forgotten she was there.

“I thought she’d wander off by now,” Lily tells me, then seems to remember that she’s speaking to me and clamps her mouth shut before narrowing her eyes again.

“Hmm,” I say, feigning noncommittal energy.

Inside, I am delighted. Beyond delighted, really joyful, and I wonder at the sensation, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. If her simply speaking to me conversationally causes such joy, I can’t imagine what it would truly be like to have her choose me. Fully choose me as her partner, and not just for this ridiculous so-called reality show we have landed on together.

“They should call it an unreality show,” I tell her as I season the meat. The delicious aroma of charred meat and peppers fills the air, and as the sun sets behind us, more than one pair of glowing eyes blink into existence, watching us from the boughs of trees far overhead.

“In what way is anything that we are doing right now based in reality?” I continue conversationally, despite the fact that she is once again ignoring me.

I glance over at where her head was buried in her arms on the table, but my female is no longer sitting there. My heartbeat speeds up. Surely Ken No Privates hasn’t already begun another trial. No, I think to myself as I whip around, searching for where my little female could have gone to. The idiot AI prefers dramatics and monologues before he sets us upon one of his so-called trials for viewership and ratings.

I lose a relieved breath as I catch sight of Lily’s short black hair glinting in the firelight of the grill. She’s next to the huge bird, its eye unblinking as it tilts down towards her. She is safe despite her choice to pet the giant creature, speaking to it softly which responds with a warbling, sort of pleased coo before sinking back into the ground under Lily’s soft touch.

She’s never touched me like that or spoken to me in such soft, kind words, and the hint of jealousy spikes through my veins. She can so easily turn her affections to this bird, which would have made a meal of her just as easily as we made a meal of its friend, yet I get her ire.

“I think we should keep her,” Lily says in a sing-song, besotted voice the likes of which you might address a small child. It’s sweet, a sort of sweetness from her that I am so unaccustomed to that it’s all I can do to blink, my tail swishing behind me in surprise.

“Oh.” It’s the only thing I can manage.

Fat pops on the fire, and I turn my attention back to the meat and vegetables in order to assuage my female’s hunger.

“Yeah, I think we should keep her,” Lily repeats. “You know, as like, oh, my ankle is hurting, and maybe I can tame her enough so I can ride her. Like an overgrown horse with feathers.” She turns to me. “Do you have horses where you’re from?”

My jealousy fades to pure delight, it’s one of the few questions she’s asked me about my home.

“I do not have horses,” I tell her. “I do not know what a horse is, but if it is important to you, I am sure that I can procure one.”

Perhaps a horse is what they use to ride the skies on her planet. I do not know much about humans. I certainly was not interested in them before I met Lily.