The turmoil of the night had finally faded. A deep and unsettling silence settled over Elora’s forest, leaving behind only the hurried beats of two hearts—one human, one enigmatic native. Matt ran, his muscles burning, his lungs torn by the cold air, while Sehr’mana, the Shivenar, sped ahead with an almost surreal grace, as if the roots, thorns, and luminescent ferns shifted aside to let her pass.
They had fled the Drakomites. Those steel-bodied, flame-eyed monsters. They had escaped cruelty, captivity, and threat… and now, they ran toward an uncertain future instinct to survive.
Finally, the Shivenar stopped in a glade bathed in bluish light. The towering, twisted trees formed a natural dome, shielding this sanctuary from any threat from the skies. There, they collapsed, breathless.
Matt felt the soft moss beneath his palms, the dampness seeping into his clothes. Yet his hand remained clenched around his pistol. His eyes drifted from the starry canopy to the fluid contours of the creature seated a few meters away— the Shivenar.
She was calm. Almost too calm. Still, legs crossed, eyes fixed on him. But the look in her gaze wasn’t hostile. No… it was something else. A kind of curiosity. She studied him the way one might examine a wounded animal, a living mystery.
She thought he was asleep.
But he stayed alert. Every muscle tense. Every fiber of his being screaming vigilance. Yet… the weight of emotion, exhaustion, accumulated fear… crushed him in an instant. His eyelids fell. The world dissolved.
When he opened his eyes again, morning had arrived.
Golden light filtered through the foliage, warming the glade with gentle hues. He sat up abruptly, heart racing. Sehr’mana was gone. His fingers slid toward his weapon. He scanned the surroundings, every sense on edge. Had she used his sleep to flee? To betray him to the Drakomites? Or worse…
But she returned. Casually. As if she were simply coming home after a stroll.
She carried a small animal with silky brown fur over her shoulders. In her other hand, a large folded leaf held wriggling white larvae. Matt froze.
She crouched by the fire and murmured in her strange tongue: "Sha’no telaa, mi sou’naka ve."
A soft, almost musical flow. But still incomprehensible to him.
She started a fire using two flat stones, sending a shower of sparks into a moss-based fuel. She moved with skilled precision, as though this entire world bent to her will. When she picked up a larva and brought it to her lips, she let out a satisfied sigh.
Then, she offered one to him. Saying: "Druval."
Matt grimaced. But his stomach, empty for far too long, won the battle. He hesitated… then bit down.
The texture was strange—soft and creamy—but the taste… unexpected. A surprising blend of hazelnut, honey, and an unfamiliar, delicate spice.
He stopped, eyes wide. It was delicious.
A crystalline laugh escaped the Shivenar’s throat. Pure. Sincere.
And part of her skin… turned yellow. A golden, warm, radiant hue.
Matt blinked. Was that… joy? A feeling expressed through color?
He smiled—for the first time since the crash. For the first time in days, he felt alive.
Once satisfied, they sat side by side, silent for a long moment. Then Matt tried to communicate. He traced shapes in the dirt—a circle for the planet, silhouettes for humans, a capsule for the ship.
The Shivenar tilted her head, watching attentively. Then, slowly, she nodded.
He pointed to himself. "Matt. Matt."
She blinked, then placed a hand on her chest.
"Sehr’mana."
Matt repeated, softer this time. "Sehr’mana…"
The name vibrated in his mouth like an ancient melody. He didn’t know why, but it felt right.
They spent long minutes drawing, miming, mirroring each other. Matt pointed to the horizon, then the sky. He drew the capsule, then an explosion. Soon, a wordless dialogue emerged—a dance of gestures, looks, and sensations.
She understood.
He understood.
And when, by accident, their hands brushed, she turned a soft pale pink. A tender color. Shy. Fragile.
Matt froze.
A strange shiver ran down his spine. Was it embarrassment? Fondness? Fear? He couldn't say. But one thing was certain—she was no longer a stranger. Not completely.
And when she stood and pointed east, miming a march, he knew.
She would help him.
She wouldn’t abandon him.
They walked for hours that day. Elora’s forest seemed to fade as they advanced. The trees grew sparse, the foliage thinner. Soon, the ground turned dry, the grass tall and golden. A vast savanna stretched before them, endless like a sea of fire.
In the distance, strange creatures raced across the terrain. Some resembled giant ostriches. Others, stone-made hounds. The sky, immense, weighed heavy with a slow-building storm.
Sehr’mana halted.
Her skin shifted to dull orange. A muted color. A warning.
She didn’t like this terrain.
Matt clenched his jaw. They were still far from any shelter. And here… anything could happen.
But one thing was clear.
They weren’t running anymore. They were moving forward.
Together.
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