Page 3 of The Knotty Clause
“Once upon a t-time,” he murmured against her neck, “there was a b-boy who wanted to play in the snow.” His words slurred. “His m-mama said no, he had to work in the mine, but he s-snuck out anyway…”
He trailed off again.
“Keep talking, baby.” Her voice was thick. “Please.”
Maybe they should keep going, find a better shelter, but her limbs felt too heavy to move.
“There was a m-man, a nice man, in the woods.”
“A nice man?”
“He had h-horns.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyelids fluttering closed again.
“Tell me?—”
Something moved in the curtain of snow, gradually resolving into the shape of a man, but taller than any man she’d ever seen, his head topped with… horns? Her breath caught as the shape stepped closer, and the lantern light caught silver eyes that gleamed like mirrors in the darkness.
She blinked, certain she was hallucinating. The figure came to a halt at the entrance to the crevice, and she almost shuddered with relief at the break from bitter wind. He was close enough now that she could pick out more details. He was wrapped in a heavy white coat that surrounded him completely. His face was almost human, with a fringe of thick white beard and long hair to match, but those horns, and those eyes…
Not a coat, she thought sluggishly.Fur. White fur. Not human.
Her arms tightened around her son as the creature’s head tilted, studying them with an unblinking silver gaze. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. They were trapped between the rock and a creature who shouldn’t exist.
CHAPTER 2
Yede paced restlessly around his living space. The home he had built for himself bridged two worlds—scavenged pieces of his crashed ship mixed with furniture built from local timber. Wood burned in a primitive stone fireplace but the windows that looked out into the storm were huge crystal-clear sheets of transparent aluminum. He’d built this place piece by piece, building onto a natural cave system by salvaging what he could from the wreckage, learning to work with the native materials.
As he turned to look out at the storm, he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the windows, his eyes burning like twin silver stars in a face marked by pain and isolation. This solitude was his penance. The loneliness, his punishment. The mountain’s harsh embrace was all he deserved.
Three years. Three years since he’d crashed on this planet. He’d been on a long range patrol when his navigation systems went haywire, followed by a loss of power to the controls. The ship was sturdy enough to survive the landing but the damage was so extensive that restoring it would be a long, arduous task.
He’d looked at the ship and then around at the mountains, pristine and white beneath an arc of cold blue sky. There was no one in sight, no sign of habitation, and the emptiness echoed the emptiness he carried inside. There was no one left to miss him. Even his superior officers would do little more than note his disappearance and move on. Instead of beginning repairs, he’d started dismantling the ship instead.
The mountain had become his self-imposed exile. Most of the time there was a certain amount of—perhaps not peace, but calm—in that solitude. Not tonight. Tonight the howling wind matched his inner turmoil, stirring memories he’d rather keep buried.
A loose panel rattled in the wind and he went to grab his tools, grateful for the distraction. Anything to keep his hands busy, and his mind occupied. The mountain showed no mercy, not to him, not to anyone, and he’d learned never to let any task slide.
Fixing the panel didn’t take long enough and he was back to pacing when a harsh beep disturbed the silence. Frowning, he went to check the monitor in his office—two heat signatures had triggered the proximity alarm.
“Impossible.”
Another race occupied this planet—a primitive, hairless race who seemed to exist in constant turmoil. He’d frequently used his drones to watch them during his first year when the loneliness became too much, but he’d eventually realized that watching others go about their lives made his isolation worse rather than better.
But he’d learned enough during his observations to know that no one ventured this high into the peaks, especially not in weather like this.
The readings blinked again, more urgent now. The smaller signature wavered, its heat signature dropping.
I shouldn’t get involved.
But even as he thought the words he was already heading for his gear, pulling on a thick vest and heavy boots. The heat signatures had stopped moving altogether, and although he knew it was foolish, his conscience wouldn’t let him ignore someone in need.
The wind howled, tearing at him with icy claws as he pushed his way through the door. Even with his natural insulation, the cold cut deep. He pulled up his sensor display on his wrist unit, the blue glow barely visible through the whiteout conditions.
The heat signatures grew weaker with each sweep, but they were still strong enough to guide him through the swirling snow. Despite the treacherous ground, it didn’t take long before a crevice appeared through the curtain of white—a jagged slash in the mountainside. A small body huddled within the narrow space, curled around someone even smaller.
He automatically stepped closer, using his body to block the full force of the wind, and the huddled figure looked up. Green eyes stared up at him from a pale, pretty face.A female.
The force of her gaze hit him like a physical blow, stirring something inside him he’d thought long dead—the urge to protect her. The old pain sliced through him at the thought. How could he offer protection to this small female when he had already failed to protect those he loved? He had no intention of ever failing anyone else that way.