I flex my limbs, trying to assess the status of my injuries. Perhaps another day, two at most, I calculate quietly, before I can risk leaving. I also need to find out the state of my ship. My stomach drops at the thought of it being unsalvageable. I can’t be stuck on this planet. The possibility is untenable.
I push away these thoughts since I can do nothing about them. I refocus my attention on Leelee. As she talks into her device, I hear another female’s voice on the other end of the conversation. As Leelee listens to the other female talking, she wanders the room, rummaging through the cabinet and drawers as if searching for something. She doesn’t seem to find what she seeks and in dismay, nibbles on her fingertip.
Leelee finishes her talk, tapping a few buttons on her device before slipping it into her pocket. She turns to me, furrowing her brow in concern, her hazel gaze dancing over my body.
“Wee reelee need tu git yu sum klohthz”, she murmurs.
Leelee notices that my food bowl is empty and points at it, miming eating ,and asks, “Steell ungry?”
I shake my head in the negative. “Ow bout otter?” she asks, miming drink from a cup. Again, I shake my head. As she leans over to pick up the tray, I stop her with an upheld hand.
I put one hand flat and palm up. I pretend to write on my hand, hoping Leelee will understand. “I need to know about my ship,” I tell her, even though she will not comprehend my words.
Understanding flairs almost immediately in her bright eyes. Relief washes over me that I might be able to get over this obstacle. She turns to leave the room but abruptly turns back, plucking the tray from my lap.
Leelee returns swiftly, the writing utensil and pad of paper clutched in her hands. She hands them to me and then waits expectantly for me to use them. I pick up the device and put it to the paper, hesitating for a moment as I try to figure out how to convey what I need to know.
I trail the pen over the paper, trying to capture the sleek image of my spaceship. It’s crude, lacking the intricate details that mark its design, but it’s the best I can achieve with basic human tools. Accustomed to advanced Cryzorian technology, my fingers fumble with the primitive writing utensil.
After finishing the sketch, I turn to Leelee and show her the paper. “Ravok’s sheep,” she asserts with an affirmative nod.
A wave of relief washes over me. I outstretch my large hands, palms up, in a universal gesture of question, then circle them around me, indicating the spatial scope of my query. Confusion paints her face at first, but then understanding lights up her eyes.
The little human holds out her hand, asking for the writing tool and paper. I hand them to her, watching as she perches herself on the bed near my feet. Her face scrunches into deep thought as she stares at the blank page, biting her lower lip – a strangely fascinating behavior.
Leelee slowly draws on the paper, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.
Finally, after a minute, Leelee turns the pad around so I can see it. She shuffles closer so we can look at her drawing together. At first, I’m unsure what I’m seeing, but I quickly realize it is a crude map.
Leelee points to a triangle on the map and says, “Ravok n Leelee awr heer.” I nod to let her know I understand. Then Leelee points to a big circle with a series of scalloped wavy lines. “Beeg otter.” I puzzle over this for a moment. Leelee can see my confusion, so she scrabbles up and lets me know she’ll be right back. I can hear the water running a moment later, and she returns holding a glass of water. She points to the glass and says, “Otter.” Then she points to the drawing and says, “Beeg otter,” she holds out her arms to her sides and then starts to stretch them out as if she’s trying to embrace the whole room. I nod to let her know I understand. There is a big body of water nearby. Looking relieved, Leelee retakes her seat at my side. With a fingertip, she traces a path alongside the body of water and then points off to the side to a drawing of my ship. “Ravok’s sheep.” She flips the page back to my drawing and repeats it. “Ravok’s sheep heer.”
There are depictions of trees around my ship, so I assume that I crashed in a wooded area. I have a vague memory of seeing a forest before I was rendered unconscious. That makes sense because the area outside her home also seems heavily wooded and isolated. That is good news since it lessens the possibility that other humans witnessed my crash. At least, that’s my hope. I nod to let Leelee know that I understand.
Making a walking motion with my two fingers, I traverse the imaginary path from Leelee’s home to my alien ship on the map she created. “How far away is my ‘sheep’? How long is the walk?” I ask.
Leelee looks from the drawing to my face, her face a perplexed mask. I do the motions again and repeat my question. I get nothing back except for confused blinks. I try to suppress the growing frustration biting through my patience, knowing that it’s not her fault she cannot understand me.
“How…far…?” I keep my voice steady, enunciating each syllable with care. My focus remains fixated on my hand, diligently mimicking the distance between her dwelling and my spacecraft, hoping that my gestures will seep into her understanding.
Despite my repeated attempts, all I receive in return is a gentle shake of her head and shrug, obviously not comprehending my meaning. Mounting frustration erupts in my mind, the deep-seated anger pulsating through my veins. I can’t believe I am stuck in this hovel, trying to communicate with grunts and waving my hands around like some lesser life form. I growl in anger and feel my claws erupt, pushing past my fingertips in reaction to my rising aggression.
For a moment, I don’t realize the implications of unleashing my claws around a soft, gentle creature like Leelee. Only her gasp recalls my attention to my actions, causing me to wince as I remember her presence. I brace myself for her inevitable fear. I expect her to cry out in fright and retreat from the threat my claws pose.
I close my eyes, experiencing a feeling I’d almost label as shame.
Expecting to hear the thunder of her steps escaping me, I’m almost startled when, instead, a soft touch jolts me, my eyes flitting open to find Leelee closer than before. She gingerly picks up my clawed hand, curiosity filling her eyes – not fear. I watch in stunned silence as she twists and turns my hand, studying my claws as though they are the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen. Does this female have no sense of preservation? I could eviscerate her with just a casual flick of my hand.
A tinge of surprise, paired oddly with warmth, bubbles up inside me as I take in her expression. It isn’t horror that fills her features, nor disgust. Instead, her eyes are wide with a blend of surprise and something akin to… delight. I can barely fathom this response, my whole being awash with a sense of… well, the only term that feels remotely accurate is relief.
I don’t utter a word, not that I could. I keep silent, not wanting to cause her to pull away. Strangely, a lump seems lodged in my throat as Leelee examines me.
She pricks one of her fingertips against my claw, not enough to break the skin, but close enough. She raises my hand until it’s almost touching her nose, examines my claws, and prods the area where they extrude.
She says something quickly, her words rushing and blending like a swift river over rocks. Leelee looks up from examining my claws and her eyes meet mine. “Klawz liek Mango.”
A grin splits her face, and then she turns and scoops up Mango, who’d been peacefully napping on the far end of the bed, indifferent to our exchange. His curled tail twitches as Leelee disturbs his slumber. The creature greets me with a soft mewl, his golden eyes half-closed in sleepy disgruntlement.
Upon noticing my doubt-filled expression, Leelee chuckles softly. My heart twangs in my chest at the sound.
Leelee turns her attention back to Mango. She coos at the animal, scratching it under its chin.
She extends one of Mango’s furry-soft paws towards me. Then she presses against the middle of the creature’s paw, and razor-sharp white claws spring out.
“Mango haz klawz liek Ravok,” Leelee utters, each syllable heavy with excitement. Her grin stretches even wider at my apparent surprise.
I look from Mango to Leelee and then back to the small fluffy animal, my brows arching high in response. I slowly reach out my hand and prick one of my fingers against the animal’s minuscule claws. They are viciously sharp, but Mango is so small that I cannot imagine he poses much of a threat.
Leelee sets Mango down. The animal gives an annoyed huff at being woken and stalks off with its tail lashing back and forth.
She pulls her communication device out of her pocket and quickly taps out something on its screen. After a moment, she turns it to show me something. On the screen are several images of animals that are vaguely similar to Mango, but with a variety of different markings and colorizations. Most also appear to be much larger than Mango.
Leelee smiles, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear as she turns the screen back. She scrolls in silence, the soft glow from the screen reflecting in her brown-green eyes. She shows him another image. “Deez esa tiegr. Es beeg cat. Liek Mango.” The image is of a magnificent beast, blazing orange and black stripes covering its large body. She taps another button and a video plays, capturing the creature’s mighty growl.
“Strong,” I murmur, looking from the ferocious beast on the screen to the seemingly docile Mango now perched lazily on the cabin’s windowsill. Perhaps Mango is a youngling and has yet to grow into its adult form?
As I watch Leelee, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen and her smile warm as she shares pictures of more ‘beeg catz’ with me, she shows me a video in which a person demonstrates the retractable claws of one of these animals. Now, those are claws that might cause some damage, I admit.
I feel strange watching Leelee smile over this planet’s animals. I’m not sure I want to know any more about this planet. It makes me uncomfortable in ways I cannot begin to express, even to myself. This is a doomed planet and getting to know more about the creatures living on its surface distracts me from my duty to my people.
