Chapter 2

Years seem to mean something to people. At least for the shorter lived species. They hurry around and feel pressured to accomplish things as quickly as possible because their lives wouldn’t otherwise have meaning. For the longer lived species, years mean nothing. Years could come and go like the blink of an eye, seeming ageless to those who have to count the years like they were important.

Years had come and gone. How many didn’t matter. Maybe it was fifty. Maybe it was a hundred. Kupper didn’t care. Nothing had really changed. At least not in his life.

Lots had changed on the planet, though. The major human city had expanded beyond its boundaries as humans always seem to do. It had begun engulfing the peaceful towns around it.

The natives accepted the fate that would befall their culture as they were absorbed by their human guardians. Had they known what they would bring upon themselves by nurturing the survivors that had crashed here so long ago, they likely would have done no different for the idea to do nothing in the face of suffering did not occur to them. At least, not yet.

A breeze tugged at Kupper’s shaggy hair, black as the shades he wore. He looked down at one of the nearby villages. If he cared to turn his head, the towering landscape of the modern city would be easily visible in the near distance.

But he didn’t turn around. He wanted to forget that place. The humans had chased him away, told him he was not welcome. He could not be one of them. It didn’t matter to them what his mother had been. They said he was a predator and he had no place among prey.

His path had brought him to this town. The little scaly people here were wary of humans. Thugs had visited. Humans had caused them much grief so near the city, regardless of written laws, and turned their welcoming society into one of mistrust. They watched him with their massive eyes narrowed, whispering behind his back as he strode through their town. His legend would do him little service here.

The sweep of his eyes behind the dark lenses made him rethink sticking around. It would be just another day’s walk to the next little town that would be sure to welcome him. He had done honest work for the natives there. Surely they would have told their grandchildren and great grandchildren of him.

He continued his long legged stride towards an old memory. The sun was going down so the natives crowded the streets and watched as he vanished into the orchards that ringed their town. The first time he had left that wretched human city when his mother had passed away, he had slept in a dark purple barn down this path, and he was starting to grow weary.

At the end of the lines of fruit trees, he stopped to stare at the faded, overgrown barn. Yes, it had been many years indeed. So, things did change. The doors hung on their hinges. The garden that had once so neatly ringed the barn and small house had grown wild and unkempt. Still, the vibrant flowers smelled so sweet. A sad kind of peace hung around the scene like a mist.

Letting out a deep sigh, he started heading for the barn when his sharp ears picked up a humming. Silently, he slipped from the trees to the side of the barn, crouching below the line of flowers. Peering over the edge through some of the boards, he had to stalk carefully around to find a spot where he could see the source of the humming which had now been joined by an instrument.

Peeking through a hole in a board, his eyes narrowed dangerously. A slender neck arched to a glowing holographic violin resting on an exposed shoulder. Nimble fingers manipulated the device expertly, a melancholy sound filling the clearing like dancing memories. Elegant, pierced ears stretched out past a neglected undercut.

He never forgot. Such was the curse of the Q’Hu.

By the time the aching melody had gone silent, he had worked his way to the other side of the barn. There was an opening there that he could sneak in through when she bedded down. He watched as she rolled out an old sleeping bag over an intact bale of hay before stretching in various ways. He smirked, letting his imagination wander for a moment as he marveled at her flexibility.

It took her a while to settle. Snuggling into her sleeping bag, she stayed awake a while longer as she stared at a softly glowing screen. Elven script floated across the screen as she read something that was obviously humorous since she chuckled to herself a few times.

At last, she could keep her eyes open no longer, head cradled by her arms. The screen soon went dark beside her head.

The flash of predatory excitement on his face was quickly replaced with somber focus. Meticulous and silent, he slipped into the barn. Painstaking was his journey from the wall to stand beside her sleeping form.

That skin looked so soft, so tempting. This close to her, even her covering could not hide her form. His nose tickled with her delightful scent. It would be such a simple thing to lean down and slip his hand around that supple neck. She would be helpless, and the demon in him found that to be enticing.

Clenching his jaw, he wasted no time in snatching up the unique devices she had. If nothing else, he would make her hunt for her things, leave them somewhere she might find them ... maybe. Lifting her bag with care, he silently returned the way he had come.

A blast of air struck him a physical blow in the back and shoved him so hard against the rotten wood that it shattered, sending him tumbling through the flowerbed. Growling, he knew he had to have messed up somewhere. Now, he was faced with a dilemma.