Dear Reader,
Thanks so much for choosing Who will Arise! Just a quick note before you start Chapter 1.
Though I've been writing most of my life, this is my first attempt at a novel. If I knew beforehand how much fun I'd have writing a novel— and fantasy at that!—I'd have started decades ago...oops, did I just give away my age? If you like what you read, please let me know! I appreciate every single moment you spend giving me feedback (I know you gain nothing from it!) or just hitting a star if you enjoyed a particular chapter. Heartfelt encouragement is what keeps writers going most days! If this book doesn't do it for you, PLEASE, please let me know too. Though I am thrilled when people love my work (who isn't, hey?) it means so much when people take the time to tell me where and how I can improve!
I'm from beautiful Cape Town, South Africa and would love to hear a little about you! Where are you from, what age group do you fall in, gender and anything else quirky about you? Enjoy every second of cuddled-up downtime with a book! Mash
Chapter One
True wisdom comes to each of us when we realize
how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us. Socrates
* * *
"Let's get Amber to plant one on 'em, maybe he'll wake up as a frog."
"I'm awake." Quinn mumbled to his best friend, Spike.
His slitted eyes performed a covert search for the female in question. Being no different from other sixteen-year-old guys, he wasn't averse to the idea of some lip locking at all, especially if they looked like Amber Bateman. Still, girls like Amber—who made no secret of the fact that she was into him—scared him a little. As far as the fairer sex was concerned, he preferred at least some measure of subtlety, even mystery. And that girl was as subtle as a red nose on a clown. Quinn was relieved to see no sign of enthusiastic Amber as he gathered his long limbs at length.
He'd been dozing in the shade of a tree and checked the time on his phone as he stood. He frowned at Spike currently holding up a lamppost with his wiry frame. "What took you so long? Class's been out almost...twenty minutes. Where's Jackson?"
Spike gestured with his head in Jackson's direction. Quinn spotted Jackson standing with his back to them, peeping through the hedge. He yelled at Jackson to quit spying on the beautiful Ava Dawson like a twelve-year-old and snorted.
Mortified, Jackson hurried to join them, scowling at Quinn. "Could you shout that any louder?" Quinn and Spike roared. As they walked off Spike couldn't resist ripping Jackson off about his peeping habits .
The three exited the school grounds as Spike and Jackson switched gears to make plans for the week-end ahead. Quinn's cheerful mood evaporated instantly. His face darkened and a scowl transformed his care-free features.
It's not that he'd really been looking forward to the dance that night—not the same way his two buddies walking next to him were practically salivating just thinking about getting close to certain girls.
No, it was that thing keeping him from other things guys his age did on weekends that irritated him this afternoon. The seminar his parents had planned for him this weekend had totally slipped his mind until Spike had reminded him a few hours before. He dreaded going. Maybe getting rid of some emotion with a five mile run would help ease his rage over the matter—a run usually did the trick. It was like running was all he had left that was his choice lately. But still, his long run would be followed by three longer hours of Science-drivel tonight—that wasn't his choice. He ground his teeth. He'd been looking forward to some down time with his two friends for a change. It wasn't about the dance—Quinn just needed the breather this weekend, maybe tame a few down-hills on their mountain bikes, catch a movie... Anything to have a break from the scholarship pressure he'd been under recently—that boa constrictor, slithering even into his dreams lately, squeezing the breath from him, whether asleep or wide-awake. How many times has he woken up, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily just these past weeks.
Stress. Pressure. Performance. It kept him shackled to his parents' expectations.
"Come on Quinn," Spike's lopsided grin and feigned southern drawl was a noble attempt to perk his friend up again. "do you really wanna deprive the ladies of all...this tonight?" he gestured to all of Quinn theatrically and Quinn rolled his eyes, "For a seminar?"
They were approaching his two friends' turn-off. Suddenly Quinn just wanted to get away alone where he didn't need to pretend he wasn't overwhelmed by his life. Putting on a carefree façade he smirked and shoved his buddy sideways. "Get outa here! You go make some girl's dreams come true on the dancefloor tonight."
It was Spike's and Jackson's turns to snigger as they headed in the opposite direction. Their booming laughter, oblivious to their friend's inner turmoil, could be heard all the way around the corner.
Their conversation kept brewing in his mind. It was true. He was just shy of sixteen, for crying out loud—a seminar on a Friday night? Gmf! It wasn't even related to their curriculum. His parents' reason for wanting Quinn to attend was that the old dinosaur who presented it was a benefactor of the physics faculty and sat on the board of selectors for the coveted scholarship. Quinn's mom, especially, wasn't going to let this one slide. That scholarship had been her dream—her obsession—since the moment Quinn started showing an aptitude for learning, grasping complicated concepts quicker than his peers. It's the only time she ever showed a lick of interest in her sole offspring: when it related to academics. The rest of the time she—and his dad for that matter—was utilizing her own superior intellect to further her prominent career in contributing to the modernization and advancement of future energy generation. They weren't bad parents; they were just more adept at other things...like developing sustainable energy for the future of the planet. One day, he told himself, he'd maybe believe that lie.
A sudden thought made him stop dead in his tracks. Why did he put up with his parents' demands? He felt the bile of rebellion rise in his throat. He was done agreeing to everything. This seminar was the last straw. He closed his eyes briefly as he mentally prepared for the changes he knew he had to make.
Quinn made the decision as he started walking again, turning left to go over the bridge. He was sick of being told what to do with his life by anyone and everyone who thought they knew better, just because they'd been around the block. He wasn't even really sure he wanted to go into Physics, whether he scored top marks or not. Yeah, he wasn't sure about a lot of things, but he wanted to figure it out for himself. For once, he'd like to make up his own mind about something, even if it turned out to be a mistake.
Footsteps closing in had Quinn darting a look over his shoulder. Great! Jake and Devlin, the muscled morons of the school—just what he needed on this day.
"Hey, Jake, you ever heard of the term hot nerd?" Quinn knew Devlin's grating voice was raised purposely to include him...and he knew why too.
"According to my girl, Jenna, the ladies prefer the hot nerds these days." Devlin drawled on. "Them ones that have a pretty face and can actually have a proper conversation, she says. Any idea where she can find herself one of those, 'cause she don't wanna be with the likes of me no more."
Quinn lengthened his stride. It didn't take a genius to figure out where this conversation was heading. He'd seen the look on Devlin's face when he spied Quinn chatting to Jenna in the cafeteria the day before. Quinn had always felt kinda sorry for Jenna. Having to take care of three younger siblings after school, so her single mom could work two jobs would be tough on any school kid. He hadn't meant anything by the few words they'd exchanged, just thought she could use some encouragement. It appears that had been a mistake.
Weighing his options he scanned the area. He knew he could outrun the two, but that would only postpone the retribution Devlin had evidently planned. He didn't usually mind settling something. He'd rather just avoid the consequences of an after-school fist fight with these two. They lived for trouble. Quinn wasn't so arrogant to believe he could take both of them. Neither was small—in fact, what Devlin lacked in IQ, he more than made up for in size—and they were renowned for fighting dirty. Quinn was big for his age too and his love for outdoor action had toned his physique over the years—which had apparently catapulted him to hot-nerd status among the girls recently. Still, he wasn't used to brawling.
The forceful shove from behind caught him off guard and the weight of his backpack threw him off balance. He vaulted forward and the hand that shot out just found the rail. His relief was short lived as two beefy hands fisted in his T-shirt and hoisted him up against the rail. Yep, Devlin wasn't just big, he was a giant—a big, dimwitted klutz who meant business. The brute rammed Quinn's back into the metal bars of the rail. It was only a little more than hip-height. A stab of panic knifed through him when he looked down. He'd maybe take a blow to the chin, he thought, but didn't like where this was heading. Quinn instinctively clutched Devlin's forearms when his upper body was forced backwards over the rushing highway below. The traffic crossing under the bridge sped by, the drivers unaware of the drama unfolding overhead. If he lost his grip now...
"You been conversing with my girl, Richards?" Devlin's foul breath hissed through clenched teeth.
"Dev—" Quinn started and shifted his hands to tighten his grip—if he could only loose the heavy back-pack—but the action hoisted the backpack a little higher, the weight jerking him backwards. Had it not also been the exact moment Jake decided to step in and pull Devlin away, things might have turned out differently.
Quinn felt himself topple backwards, as if in slow-motion at first, but then as though he'd been yanked by a bungee cord. Devlin's shocked features and groping hands filled his vision. His own limbs thrashed. Terror gripped him and surged through his system, leaving him dizzy. Strong winds whipped his hair and stung his face as he hurtled towards the tearing traffic. An absurd thought flitted through his mind when he squeezed his eyes shut: He'd thought death would come quicker, instantly. Still, he continued to fall.
The rushing wind blocked out every other sound. Then everything went eerily silent. He felt light.
His wary eyes stretched wide when he opened them slowly. He was floating weightlessly down the center of a long, wide tunnel. On the outside, cars and trucks still sped by, but seemed a distance away. He peered down the tunnel. Further and further it stretched— even beyond reality, if that was even possible. Miles ahead in the distance a series of luminous rings packed closely together, indicated some kind of exit. A new awareness flooded him as the world outside the tunnel started fading. Vast darkness now surrounded him. His only awareness, the sharp specs of light flitting over and past him causing him to duck whenever one seemed to flash too close by. He twisted to look behind him and he found his movements uncontrolled and sluggish. Dazed, he noticed the blurred images of the two guys still on the bridge—their alarm evident even from a distance—way at the other end of the tunnel. What was going on? He'd heard accounts of people who'd passed through some kind of tunnel before they entered the afterlife, but never had it been described like this. Was he dead? Surely he would have felt the impact? Strange sensations engulfed him. Too numb to react, to fight, he focused on staying calm. He didn't even try to battle the darkness tugging at his consciousness. When it finally swallowed him, he welcomed it.
Chapter Two
The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown. H. P. Lovecraft
The sensation of lying face down in mud was the first evidence that he lived. Sludge crept into his ears, covered his face and clouded his vision. He gathered he'd survived the horror of death by traffic—he doubted suffocating in dirt, while a dull throb pounded a steady rhythm at the back of your skull, would be one's first awareness upon entering heaven. His eyes were barely able to open in his heavy head. The eerie quiet surrounding him was unsettling.
Feeling lethargic, he tried to unearth some remnant of strength to move. All he could muster was getting up to all fours. The edges of a clear pool came into view as he raised his head. He reached back. Great, he'd lost his back-pack. He dismissed it as his eyes attempted to make sense of his surroundings. As though trying to clear the fog from his brain he shook his head, blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. The action only managed to spread the grime.
He crawled to the water to rinse his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again his vision would reveal something familiar...something unlike the jungle he thought he'd seen through a haze. Sitting on his haunches, he wiped excess water from his face and stared. His fears were confirmed as he gaped at everything around him. Dumbfounded, he sank down on his butt. Let's just stay calm. There'll be an explanation for all this.
The city was gone. Taller trees than he'd ever seen surrounded and loomed over him. They had to be a hundred feet. He took in the long, unfamiliar tresses that dangled from on high. They drooped right down to the ground and resembled a frazzled beard some ancient hermit had spent his whole life growing. Below the trees the carpet of soft grass was such an intense green it seemed as though light was emanating from it. His mind working overtime as he allowed his hands to skim the tips unconsciously. He lifted his face to the breeze and his nostrils caught a whiff of something: without a doubt, the scent of the ocean.
No. No way.
The closest ocean was a six hour trip by car. He refused to even think in that direction. Shock and confusion immobilized him while minutes ticked by. He cocked his head, listened for traffic and wasn't surprised when only the sounds of nature reached him. Where on earth was he and how did he get there?
Rising slowly on shaky legs he started towards the weird trees. His eyes darted about guardedly. There had to be a reasonable explanation. He parted the long tresses, recoiling instantly when he noted strange, sharp spikes protruding from the trunk. Besides side-stepping it to avoid being skewered, he chose not to overthink the unusualness of it—as if doing so would make it all less absurd. Nevertheless, he advanced with more care until he cleared those strange trees.
And there it was. From the top of a mountain, he squinted into the sun. Less than a mile from the base of the mountain, gleaming waves of crystal rolled and ebbed to a shore of pale, gold sand. To his right and left both the beach and ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. In his dread, the breath taking picture didn't register.
He swung around and observed miles and miles of jungle. The shock of what he saw next rammed him right in the gut. Up until that moment Quinn's subconscious denial about his whereabouts had successfully duped him into believing that everything about this situation could be rationalized. That illusion evaporated the moment he took in the sight before him.
The absurdity of it momentarily dazed him. Ahead in the distance, a second sun brightened the sky. He turned again swiftly, just to check. Perhaps he was a little disoriented, perhaps it was an illusion. But no, there were two suns. It wasn't a mirage, a trick of light. The larger, brighter sun loomed above the summit of a high mountain, the peak veiled in hazy looking clouds. How does one rationalize two suns?
His mind sought to venture in a direction he wasn't willing to go just yet. He lowered his head, blocking out the stunning landscape. It was a struggle to keep the crazy thoughts from invading, to clear his mind and focus on his situation. Where was he? The vegetation, the suns...they all pointed towards a strange world—maybe even a different realm. Was he really willing to consider that? An alien world?
He raked an exasperated hand through his disheveled hair. How did he get there? How on earth was he going to get back home? He was into science, for crying out loud! Why wasn't he thrilled? He sank down on his butt again and tried to suppress his building dread. Naively, he hoped to hear or see something familiar any second now. He even pinched himself. Hard. Not daring to even consider all the consequences and dangers the possibility of another world held, he voided his thoughts and merely stared ahead blankly.
This kind of thing happened to freaks and lunatics. Not to ordinary—given...somewhat gifted—teenagers just looking to relax on a Friday.
He didn't know how long he just sat there, willing his mind to stay void. Although he'd seen no other living creature, the slightest creek or rustle threatened to undo his tightly held control. It occurred to him that he couldn't just remain where he was. Still, his inherent sense of adventure wasn't urging him to leap up and explore either. He knew he'd probably have to check out the vicinity before he even tried to come up with a plan to get out of there. For all he knew, something familiar was around the next corner and there was still a very reasonable explanation for all this...weird, but reasonable.
He gathered from looking at the setting suns that night was approaching fast. He didn't want to remain there a second longer than necessary, but he also didn't want to roam around in the dark. It would be wise to find shelter. Swallowing hard, he subconsciously congratulated himself for that sober thought. Yes, he'd go into practical mode, he was good at it. The place was creepy. Even beneath the high trees at his back, he considered himself a target for who-knew-what so high up. What dangers lurked there? What would emerge once night fell? He needed to get off the mountain, prepare himself to possibly spend the night. There didn't seem to be an alternative. He did not want to be stuck in the dark without shelter. It was always the first thing stranded survivors did in the movies, were his absurd thoughts. Tomorrow was a new day and the dreaded night ahead would provide ample opportunity to come up with a plan.
He stood and squared his shoulders. He could lick this. He liked the outdoors and was used to being in nature. He wasn't only fit; he possessed more than half a brain. He could survive while figuring this out. Grasping handfuls of shrubs and branches to pace himself down the mountain, his descent was quick. He decided to head in the direction of the wide, winding river with the strange murky blotches he'd spotted from the mountain. He'd follow it until he found something that could pass for shelter. The smaller sun had already set and the other, larger one hovered just above the horizon. It was not as light outside anymore, the time of day when dusk spilled over to evening. He'd have to hurry.
As viewed from the top, the lush plant life on and at the foot of the mountain gradually thinned out and withered. Eventually, as he progressed, there was no sign of life. The area close to the mouth of the river was strangely dry and desert-like too. Yet, the presence of dead trees and shriveled shrubs indicated there was once life. Strange. As he approached the river the absence of plant life beside such abundance of water struck him as odd. The welcome sight of water made him dismiss his musings. He was parched. Clambering over some rocks, he crouched and prepared to quench his thirst.
"Lei!" The small, distressed cry jolted him. "Lei! Vakash, ouk!"
His chest cavity constricted as his heart jerked, making breathing a laborious task. With his head still bent low, Quinn didn't dare look up.
A voice was yelling. At him.
He didn't know what made him scramble backwards on his hands and feet like an upside down crab, but next he knew he was up against a rock wall. Backing himself into a position from which there was no escape had been a grave mistake. Idiot. A quick look behind him revealed a high, vertical wall of rock. The faint sound to his right drew his attention.
The expression on the petite creature's face matched the troubled sounds that had been directed at him just now. She—for she was clearly female—was standing palms up, almost as if to show she meant no harm. Her large blue eyes were fixed on him in a combination of concern and curiosity. His heart rate slowed marginally, enough to make breathing a little easier at least. Still wary, he studied the creature from head to toe. She looked small and fragile, and clearly not part of the human race. The fact that she possessed some human features didn't help settle Quinn's freak-out level at all. She interrupted his thoughts when she spoke in a soft, even tone.
"The water is poisonous."
"You speak English?" Utterly stunned, his eyes no-doubt the size of dinner plates, Quinn shouted the question almost accusingly. It vexed him that the little imp didn't look one bit scared. His dad would describe her face as honey-sweet. Yeah, a sweet faced pixie.
She nodded. A small smile warmed her delicate features and those almond-shaped eyes crinkled a bit at the corners. "You are not the first visitor from Earth."
This wasn't happening.
Suspicious, he rose slowly and scanned the area to ensure they didn't have company. Then he straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders.
"Where are the others?" He'd keep her talking while he figured it out. He hoped his clipped tone conveyed that she shouldn't dare mess with him. He wouldn't be so easily taken in by the soft eyes and innocent act.
"Others?"
"You said I'm not the first visitor from Earth," he snapped. "What did you do with the others?"
"Do?" her smooth brow lifted like a darn puppy's and he noticed that she didn't have hair, not even brows or lashes. It made those huge eyes look even more harmless.
Don't be fooled.
Her puzzlement irritated him. Was she daft? He was trying to get answers and the idiot girl could barely manage more than a syllable at a time. It was like pulling teeth. Or was she deliberately misleading him with the innocent, mystified act.
"Where. Are. The. Other. Visitors. From. Earth?" his tone was condescending, as if she were slow.
"They went back." She seemed confused that he'd think otherwise. Worse, his aggravation appeared to simply roll off her. She looked less concerned with her own safety and more focused on not presenting as a threat. It was as though she took great care not to startle him. It was ridiculous! He scoffed. Imagine this tiny little thing, concerned about not scaring him. She scarcely reached his chin and he had at least a hundred pounds on her.
"Come with me," she invited gently, uttering each word with care—like someone mastering a foreign language. Turning her back, she promptly started in the other direction.
He was taken aback by her trust. She acted as if she knew him. He could've been an axe–murderer! Heck, she could be one!
"Hey! How do you know I'm not going to grab you from behind and kill you?"
She turned back. "Are you?"
"That's not the point!" He threw his hands in the air. Why were they having this ludicrous conversation?
She smiled "Come," and turned again. Was she mocking him?
"No!" he yelled exasperated. "How do I know you're not leading me right into a trap?"
"I am not."
She had to be slow. Either that or she was a darn good actress. It was absurd. And the fact that he was still standing there debating it didn't bode well for his sanity either. He should get away from her as fast as possible. One side of him was desperate to do just that. Partly, because he was completely freaked out, but mostly because he wanted to go his merry way and pretend this meeting never took place. His other side implored him to see the advantages. She could help him.
"Where am I?" Though he still wasn't friendly, he tried for a neutral approach, resolving to keep his distance emotionally—as if he'd finally concede that she was real if he returned her amicability.
"You're in Zoay. You came here through a portal. I do not know much about how it works; I am gifted in other areas." He thought she might be attempting to joke, but her features remained serious. "Zebbah will be able to explain that to you."
He blinked.
"I am Gersha."
As if introductions changed anything. He exhaled again slowly, hoping to expel some of the madness with it, and ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, ok." He conceded at last, wearily. What good did it do to fight? She seemed harmless, this hairless pixie with the large blue eyes and friendly smile, and she might be his only chance to get back...apparently, to Earth
She nodded and grinned, despite his lack of charm. "I saw you coming down the mountain. Did you only just arrive here?" It was his turn to nod. "We have not had a visitor in a while. My people will be pleased."
"To have me for dinner?" he only half-joked and regretted not being more direct when she didn't respond.
He didn't want to follow her home, but wasn't quite ready to let her go. She didn't look like she would—or could, for that matter—try to force him to go with her. Still, he hadn't decided to follow her just yet. "What's wrong with the water?"
"It is poisonous. It is a long story, but many of my people have become ill because of it."
He frowned, but she didn't give him a chance to question her further.
"What is your name?"
He held her eyes and noticed that they were completely blue, no whites at all, with a small black pupil in the middle.
"Quinn."
"You must be tired and hungry. Will you come home with me, Quinn?"
"No." he said flatly. "Tell me how to get back home."
She regarded him silently, he couldn't read her expression.
"Look," he ground out "If there have really been others who found a way back home, then what's the problem? I need you to show me how to get back...please." The last word took some effort.
"It is not that simple, Quinn." Sontinued to look at him sympathetically. He had difficulty believing anyone could fake such sincerity.
"Can you take me to someone who can help me?"
Her eyes lit up and her petite face brightened at the prospect.
"Yes. I am going home." She didn't wait for a reply. "First, I am going to drink water from a safe source. Come, Quinn."
Leaving the decision up to him, she turned around and started walking. He wanted to be stubborn and let her know he wasn't so naïve to blindly follow just any stranger at the first friendly gesture. But he couldn't deny the fact that he wanted to follow her. It was like two sides warring in him. One side —the suspicious, city slicker—told him to bolt in the other direction. The other side wanted to trust. There was something about this elf–like creature. She exuded humility; a sincere and unpretentious openness he'd never come across in any human before—and he'd met some pretty great people.
They walked in silence for several minutes. The wasteland surrounding the river gradually gave way to dense, tropical vegetation again. Gersha seemed at home here, even finding enjoyment in just taking a walk in the forest. Every so often she'd look over at him and beam, as if he were a long lost friend she couldn't believe had come to visit. A path steered them up a hill where the melody of a trickling stream had him groaning in relief—his first positive reaction. His tongue was starting to feel like sand paper. Just beyond a cluster of translucent, swaying shrubs, he spotted the source. A wide twelve foot waterfall spilled over a flat rock and pooled in glittering brilliance at their feet. To the left, the pool narrowed and meandered off. Quinn looked down at the wispy grass that framed the pond, lending a mystical air to the picture.
"The source of this stream is just ahead." Gersha stated. "This water is safe to drink."
She crouched and, to his surprise, bent down to drink directly from the stream. He squatted beside her and used his hand to bring water to his mouth. Gersha also filled the water skin that had been slung over her shoulder.
He caught her studying him.
"What?"
She grinned at his rudeness. did nothing offend her?
"Your hair—" she searched for a word, "coils. And the color is different to the others too."
"Yeah, it's curly," Quinn battled to remain aloof. He wasn't a pushover by nature, but he wasn't usually rude. The cool attitude he was forcing when he no longer felt it in her seemingly earnest company, seemed ineffective anyway. He wouldn't let down his guard entirely, but was growing tired—and just a little ashamed— of the extra spoonful of jerk he'd been serving her up till now. He ran his fingers through the curly mop. "My dad's is practically orange. I got off light with a reddish brown."
When he stood she followed quickly, "I was on my way to pick some fruit from the Tavlala trees. Have you tasted it?" Quinn shook his head. She simply turned and started back down the hill.
Hundreds of questions churned in his head as they trudged on, but he stubbornly refused to expose himself in any way by asking revealing questions. She might be sweet, but what about the others? Next to him Gersha merely seemed to be enjoying a stroll. They came to a cluster of the tall, willow-like trees he recognized from the mountain. Gersha pointed at the trees and he noted that she only had four fingers on each hand.
"Tavlala trees," she said. "Fergus, one of our regular visitors, said it tasted like a fruit from your earth. Perhaps you can also tell which one."
Quinn filed her comment about regular visitors. He fully intended to broach that subject later. She edged through the weeping branches to the trunk. Reaching out she broke one of the sharp spikes off with a quick snap. Quinn withdrew a step and eyed her suspiciously. Oblivious to his mistrust, Gersha dug into the open end of the cone-shaped fruit. Her slim fingers produced a brown paste, dripping with juice. Bending over to avoid soiling her knee-length, shift dress, she sampled it. The shapeless dress looked used, simple and home-spun.
Clearly not very fashion conscious, he mused absurdly.
"Have some," she offered politely, gesturing with her head in the direction of the tree. Quinn wasn't altogether convinced that it was edible and didn't particularly look forward to sampling it, but his growling stomach decided for him. It wouldn't do for him to pitch forward on his face in a defenseless heap, because of low blood sugar. The last meal he'd had was the breakfast he made and eaten by himself that morning. He always saw to his own breakfast. His parents usually left to tend to their precious careers before he woke. They'd return in a few hours and find the house empty. Would they start searching for him immediately?
Following Gersha's lead, he stepped forward, broke a piece off and dug into it. A ripple of disgust coursed through him at the texture.
He tasted it carefully and looked up in surprise. "Coconut."
"That is correct. I remember the word Fergus used," She seemed to enjoy his response.
She covered her mouth with her hand and uttered an animated sound like a mouse squeaking.
"Coconut," she repeated the word, as if testing it on her tongue. She squeaked again. "What a ridiculous word."
The squeak was a giggle, Quinn realized, and suppressed an unwelcome grin himself.
Drat, he didn't want to warm up to her!
He delved into the cone again and when there was no more to be had, he picked another.
At once, a dozen small creatures came at them, scurrying at their feet like frantic vermin. Quinn jumped in alarm. Ready to bolt, his gaze shot to Gersha to gage her reaction. He relaxed somewhat when he saw her smile.
"They are called achba," she offered peaceably. "very shy creatures. You hardly ever spot them, but they cannot resist the tavlala fruit. They smell it from a distance."
Right on cue, they scuttled to the discarded cones and, sticking their pointy little heads right into the cones, devoured what was left. Gersha picked a few more from the tree and tossed them on the ground for the little Achba. If not for the scales covering their tiny bodies, Quinn thought they'd strongly resemble a guinea pig. In fact, they were a good cross between an armadillo and a guinea pig. Ridiculously, he wished for his smartphone so that he could take a picture. Who would ever believe him back home?
"Will you come to meet the people, Quinn?" Gersha asked expectantly and then quickly tried another angle when it looked like he'd reject her offer. "You will need shelter for the night. The temperature will start dropping soon and we have quite a way to travel."
He considered his options for a moment and, not coming up with a better alternative, consented. After filling a sack with fruit, she headed out again and waited for him to fall into step beside her before talking.
"Did you happen to see the cluster of giant trees from the top of the mountain? They were right in the bend of the river; about halfway between the ocean and those mountains?" She indicated with her head and continued when he nodded. "That is our home. The Tree People of Zoay have lived there for many generations."
They walked in silence for a while. She gave him a bright, grateful smile when Quinn took the sack from her and swung it over his shoulder. Manners, like etiquette, had been impressed by his mother from a young age. It showed upbringing, she'd say, class. She'd describe this creature beside him as just a breath of a little thing, and probably try to restrain and make a study of Gersha. Quinn now studied her surreptitiously. In a peculiar way, she could go through as pretty. He supposed that her good nature and innocent gaze, devoid of all evil, added to that. Her features were fine and, although not entirely human, they were in the same proportions.
She suddenly stopped short and Quinn had to swallow a shriek of alarm when he suddenly came face to face with a colossal monster. He stared into the mean eyes of a beast the size of a rhino. It was planted only a few feet from them. He promptly cast his eyes down, praying the lack of eye contact would make it go away.
"Shhhhhhh."
Not knowing whether she was shushing him or the beast, he risked a nervous glance her way. When he saw her extend her hand carefully he dared look up slowly. Except for the mean eyes, it had a wide, flabby mouth that stretched from ear to ear—like Spike's aunt Winnie when she removed her false teeth. The rest of its hide had the appearance of weathered leather. He didn't mind animals—liked them, actually—but this one's size alone more than intimidated him. When it suddenly lowered its head, Quinn jumped in alarm.
The movement startled the beast. It advanced two threatening steps in their direction. Quinn's legs jellified. Next to him Gersha's face was set in alarm. He didn't know where the strength came from to stay upright. The monster came to an abrupt stop mere inches from them. A large mouth opened to reveal two sharp rows of teeth in its upper and lower jaws.
Man, that breath! The thought penetrated his terror. Nausea assaulted him even in his petrified state.
Gersha's frantic shout tore through the air.
"Drop! Cover your head!"
Wasting no time, he dropped to his stomach beside Gersha like a felled tree. The next instant the beast let loose a deafening roar like a wounded bear. To Quinn's utter shock, a flame whooshed over them like a scorching gust of wind. They were in serious trouble—the life and death kind.
Like his day could get any worse.
Beside him Gersha remained motionless. The heat on his back was intense and he was sure he detected the smell of singeing nylon. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed the thing would go away. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the beast turned and thundered back into the bushes. Gersha exhaled slowly then rose and brushed her clothes off as though she'd merely tripped over something.
"Are you alright?"
Quinn remained face planted to the damp forest floor.
"Is...is it gone?" he stuttered trying to regain his speech and the breath that left him a few terrifying moments ago.
"Yes. That was the katair. They are mostly harmless." That unflustered, proper tone of hers hinted that she'd been tutored by the queen herself.
He shot up. "Are you nuts?" He glared. "Did you notice that thing almost vaporized us?"
"We frightened him and he retaliated." She replied calmly, "The katair would never attack first." Her terminally unflappable attitude irked him. Neither the monstrous beast nor his outburst had fazed her in the least.
Quinn snorted in disgust. "Yeah, is that why they have hundreds of razor sharp teeth?" Once again Gersha disregarded the sarcasm.
"The katair are our cleaners. They move through the forest and consume the carcasses of dead animals. Their digestive system works like a furnace, hence the flame over our heads. They use those sharp teeth to tear off large chunks of the carcasses. They do not use them to chew, though. They rip off a chunk, swallow it whole and into the furnace it goes. That flame he angled our way is his defense mechanism. They do not use it to attack, unless they are provoked or cornered."
Quinn ground his teeth, but decided to let it go. He wanted to stay mad at her, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to hold a grudge. She had only been kind and so far he had repaid her by being suspicious, sarcastic and downright grumpy.
"Okay," he lightened his tone intentionally, "should I expect any other kinds of fire breathing monsters?"
She smiled forgivingly and shook her head.
"No, it is only the katair and I can assure you that we will not come across another one. They are really very scarce, you know. We can count ourselves fortunate to have seen one of them."
Her tone was mischievous. She'd delivered the quip with a grin and it was received, though somewhat reluctantly, with one. A first. They continued at a steady pace. Every now and then Gersha would stop and point out an exotic plant, tree or small animal. She was easy to talk to, and he continuously cautioned himself not to drop his guard— it was a strange realm after all, he just couldn't afford blind trust. Who knew what this seemingly sweet alien girl had up her sleeve? Still, he found himself relaxing more often than not and soon he was asking her numerous questions she answered with great knowledge and enthusiasm.
She was like Google on legs.
Alien legs.