This morning, a heavy mist hangs like a thick scarf in the air of the jungle. It wraps through the air, dampening our clothes and hair. A flock of feathered, winged creatures flies past us, screeching in a frenzy. They fill the sky with brilliant colors of pink and orange.

I stop and watch as they disappear deeper into the shadows of the trees. Part of me wonders if we should be following them. Where are they flying in such a hurry?

“Look!” Orien shrieks with laughter.

“What?” Mor grunts.

“Tracks! Real prints from civilized beings.”

We all rush over to where he’s standing, and sure enough, there in the mud, footprints are dented into the soft earth. Two small sets of prints next to one another, twisting and continuing down into the path.

“These are fresh ones, too!” Orien places a finger in the mud and smells it triumphantly. “Looks like I was right all along.”

“You got lucky.”

Several days of trekking through the jungle, and we’ve now finally got some good news.

Orien slaps Mor on the shoulder. His whole demeanor has completely transformed. He and I both woke up angry, not saying one word to each other.

But I don’t feel happiness from finding the tracks. Instead, a feeling of dread wells inside of my stomach. The footprints mean we’re closer to my new husband.

Orien keeps his eyes off mine when I look at him. He’s avoiding me. I hate it.

Mor starts to walk forward down a path that has already been cleared through the brush. “It splits here.”

“Huh?” Orien runs forward. There’s a clear divide in the prints. One continues straight forward, and the other veers off left. “We just keep going in this direction.”

“No, look—the tracks here are clearly far more worn down.”

Orien sucks on the inside of his cheek. He scratches his chin, then glances back at me. He switches to whispering.

I roll my eyes. Now he’s just being childish. There is no reason why I can’t be a part of the discussion, but I’m done trying to fight him.

I sit down on a thick log, heavy with green moss. I fan myself with my hand. The humidity here is unbearable. I watch them.

Mor is growing rather heated. Veins bulge from his neck, and his voice is boisterous, barely contained, but his body remains still and tense. No wonder he has no one else. He looks extraordinarily frightening.

Orien mentioned King Ursen was like Mor. I mean, they’re both from Omicron; are they all the same, then? Mor wouldn’t be an awful husband, but he’s just such a massive being.

My focus shifts to Orien, who’s being incredulous. He’s smiling and shaking his head. The morning honey glow of the sunlight bathes him, and he looks like a work of art. His back flexes, and I can see the lines of all his muscles taut underneath his shirt.

The image of his back flexing while he ate me out flashes before my eyes. My pussy clenches. This would be so much easier if he didn’t look like a golden angel.

He glances over at me. Can he sense I’m thinking about him like this? No, I doubt it—but the devious smile he gives me says otherwise.

But then Mor stops. He grows silent, and his eyes widen. I see something, a glimpse of movement behind the line of trees.

“What?” Orien asks.

Mor presses his finger to his lips.

My heart skips at the sight.

A creature five times the size of Mor has emerged from the thick foliage. At first, it looks like a massive bird, but with a long snout that turns into a beak. Thick black goo drips from its snapping jowls. Its neck is covered in brilliant green feathers. I notice that the rest of it its body and wings are covered in lizard-like muddy scales. Its two massive feet are black and curved, stomping into the ground.

An ear-piercing screech tears from its throat. I clasp my hands over my ears, and the leaves around us shake wildly. Birds and small creatures scurry away in fear. I wish we could do the same.

“Oh, that,” Orien whispers.

Instantly, he leaps in front of me; he reaches behind and shoves me down, and I land behind the log with a thud, falling on my back. His eyes catch mine for a split second. His knife is already drawn and pulled over his chest.

The monster comes rushing toward us. Its beak stretches open to reveal hazardous teeth.

“Fucking three suns!” Orien bellows.

The creature’s teeth slam onto the knife, inches from Orien’s arm. It turns its head and yanks the knife from his grasp, throwing it far into the forest.

“My knife! Oh, you’re going to pay for that.” Orien leaps up and kicks the creature in its neck.

I am amazed by his speed and skill. His movement is nothing more than a golden flash. It screeches, staggering from the hit, but lifts its deadly claw to strike.

“Orien!” Mor screams. Its wings flap wildly, and its hard beak snaps. A blast of Mor’s gun ricochets through the air, piercing right through its wing. It squeals and flaps back, spraying the trees with its black blood.

If the creature wasn’t mad before, it is now. It charges Mor, taking several bullets in its chest before Mor has no choice but to dodge the attack. Several trees topple over as the huge body smashes into it. Pieces of wood and debris fly through the air.

Orien uses this time to strike again with fluid and precise action. He’s quick, forcing me to take a moment and focus on him. In a blur of speed, he slides underneath the giant belly of the creature, and his knife slashes through its tendons.

More of that dark blood sprays everywhere. Sounds of pure agony escape the beast’s throat.

It spins wildly, slamming its long tail against Orien. The impact throws him through the air, and his back slams against a tree.

I watch in horror as it rips through his leg with a talon. Orien screams, clutching the gash in his leg.

The creature opens its beak. The black liquid drips out.

It's going to eat him! Adrenaline overcomes my fear, and before I can think, I’m up and running.

“No!” I bellow.

Its slimy orange eyes pin on me. In an instant, it lunges forward.

Time itself seems to slow down as I stand seconds before my death. I hear Orien yell my name. I close my eyes tightly. This is it.

But another blast of Mor’s gun lands through its skull. It stumbles to the side, squealing and thrashing. Then in one last attack, its large beak snaps right around Mor’s leg.

An unholy sound of pain comes out of Mor. He lurches forward and collapses. His whole body shakes violently. The thick black goo covers his leg and saturates his flesh. He grows still next to the dead beast.

“Mor! No!” Orien shouts. He grunts as he stands. Blood trickles down his leg, but it's already starting to heal.

“Is he okay?” I ask, running over to him.

“Shut up!”

Orien clutches, and he closes his eyes. His golden tattoos glow brighter and burn like fire. He’s going to heal him.

The minutes transform into hours. Sweat crawls down Orien’s skin. He scowls and holds his position, then he finally pulls away. The color of his skin is faded, and his tattoos are barely visible.

“Damn it!” Orien screams. “It poisoned him! I can’t heal that!”

I don’t know what to say or do. I feel so useless.

Orien reaches under Mor, and he scoops him up, throwing him over his shoulder with a grunt. He’s strong enough to carry him?

Mor’s body hangs limply over his back. His face is pale, and for the first time, he looks weak and fragile.

“You good to walk?” Orien asks.

“Yeah.”

Can you? I wonder. His leg is still torn up, and he looks exhausted after trying to heal Mor.

“Then let's start going and hope we find someone soon.”

We walk in silence, following the path Orien chose. His breathing has grown ragged. Every now and then, Orien stops and tries to heal Mor, but I can see it’s wearing him down greatly. His body begins to shake, and his muscles strain to carry the huge alien.

Mor looks dead, hanging from Orien lifelessly, except for the shallow breaths letting us know he is still fighting. I don’t know what Orien’s plan is, or how we’ll be able to save Mor; I just hope we find help soon.

The day turns to night quickly. Time isn’t on our side. The expanse of the jungle seems to be never-ending, and we walk for hours without any stops. My feet have grown swollen and sore, and my legs burn.

Then I see it. It takes me a second to believe my eyes.

The jungle comes to a sudden stop, and the line of trees ends. We have found a city.