Page 7 of January Bell

“Maybe my translator isn’t working,” he says with a questioning look, a spark of delight igniting in his gaze.

The rooster slams another talon foot down, flapping its wings to get extra height before enacting a strike that Zan dodges neatly again. Really, he’s pretty agile, and if I weren’t so completely dumbfounded by everything that’s happening, I might actually be impressed at how he’s parkouring around a killer rooster with ease.

My stomach growls again. “I love chicken… So delicious.”

My mouth is watering just thinking about it. Yeah, I definitely hit my head on the way down.

I’m so damned hungry. On the Earth reality TV shows the contestants at least got rice.

We haven’t had anything.

Zan hoists a fallen tree branch up, waving it at the rooster, who bawks incredulously at Zan’s bravery or foolhardiness—who can say—and backs up slightly, still staring at him through beady eyes.

“I do not think my translator is working correctly. But if it is cock you want, it is cock you shall have.”

“What?” I ask, completely confused. “Yeah, I want to eat the rooster.”

Zan stares at me, mystified, then grabs his package between his legs. “I will make sure you are well fed by sweet cock.”

“What the fuck?” I blurt, burying my hands in my face, then peek through my fingers. “Shit, get out of the way,” I screech.

Zan narrowly dodges the attack. He lets out a garbled noise of surprise, and I suck in a breath, my heart racing because he narrowly dodged it. Except, the rooster has his tail. The curved, viciously pointed beak starts to peck, and Zan screams again, wielding the branch as best he can to fend off the rooster’s attack.

It’s not a scream of pain, though.

It’s anger.

The rooster’s barely made a dent in his scaled draegon tail, thank goodness.

I look around wildly while the huge hen dust bathes next to me, seemingly oblivious to the death—rooster megafauna homicide, or mutual planned homicide, on my part.

I’m so flipping hungry.

“You don’t get to kill that asshole on my watch,” I scream at the rooster, rooting around next to me until my hand closes over exactly what I hoped it would—a massive rock.

Zan’s fending off the attack as best he can, but thick, viscous blood trickles down the tough draegon hide on his tail.

“Pick on someone your own size!” I scream at the rooster.

That manages at least to get his attention, which is really all I wanted. I throw the rock with all my might and hold my breath as it whizzes through the air—and stops, falling just short of the rooster.

Well. Turns out being picked last for softball and kickball and all sports in school did, in fact, come back to bite me in the ass.

I just didn’t expect the bite to be taken by an alien chicken.

My eyes dart around desperately as I look for another rock, a branch, anything that will let me help get Zan out of reach of the rooster. Because as much as that alien drives me crazy, he is my alien. He is my partner, and I might be a bitch, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him get hurt.

I don’t want anyone to get hurt.

My stomach growls again. I’m freaking famished. I don’t think I truly understood that word until this moment. The amount of meat on a bird that size would be more than enough for both Zan and me, and I lick my lips at the thought of it. It’s a good thing Ken No Privates hasn’t figured out one-to-one confessionals for his psychotic reality TV show, because I’m not sure that’s something I’d like to admit out loud on camera.

The rooster raises its head, starting to crow again. “Coc⁠—”

Without warning, the rooster keels over completely, the dust its fellow chicken has uncovered flying up in a cloud that makes me cough and cover my eyes.

Zan stands up gingerly, not even taking a second to look at his tail and assess the damage before advancing on the prone form of the megafauna rooster.

“You killed it.” He glances over one shoulder at me, reevaluating me.