"Stop moving!" I growled.

"Stop standing still!" The lanky razkur barked back at me.

"I've been chasing you for the last hour!" I spun my axe and vaulted to an upper ledge in my ship's sparring den. "We're getting nowhere!"

"This is the pace you are setting," Mourning Crow maneuvered below me, disappearing from sight behind a grouping of fabricated obstacles stationed around the grey and black room. "And if you insist on complaining, stop dicking around and say it to me in Oto-Winde!"

Mourning Crow's chain sickle shot up and severed the supports on my shelf. I leaped off, only to find the back end of her chain looped around my ankle. She yanked me down, but I spun and landed upright with her chain locked in my fist.

"Sawa'kahee!" I cursed in Oto-Winde and yanked the chain hard. The razkur had insisted that I focus on profanity first to identify and confront any insult swiftly.

She came at me from the left.

Shit! When did she move over there?

She parried my axe, threw it aside, then kicked my legs out and dropped me to the ground.

"Sawa'Kahjee," Mourning Crow corrected, flapping her ears rudely forward and sharp.

Insult. Noted.

The three-lined scar proclaiming her successful Dread Rite and her official status as a full member of Clan Jahaa peeked out on her forehead just behind the part in her hair.

I disliked being outmatched in any combat, but there was no shame in being bested by Mourning Crow. Medical Prime carbon-dated her age to be older than Oru and her competency and skill as a warrior were self-evident to all who reviewed the recordings of her Dread Rite.

Had her innate connection to the U'la'ke not been a factor, Mourning Crow was well within the appropriate age and skill level to petition for a challenge worthy of claiming Forged status or even the mark of an Elder.

"Again!" Mourning Crow thrust her sickle at my chest.

I rolled and scrambled out of the path of her successive stabs.

"Sawa'Kahjee!" I roared, mimicking her pacing and inflections.

The razkur pursued me at an astounding pace, hopping atop tall cones jutting from the floor behind me.

"How does this help me learn what your ears are saying?" Per her mandate, I did my best to communicate only in Oto-Winde.

Mourning Crow shot across the false stalactites protruding from the ceiling and spun around to tackle me and put her face a fraction of an inch away from mine.

"Because we don't talk like this!" The razkur flailed her ears excessively at my eyes. "We're non-stop and on the go. And sometimes, we're capable of lying."

Mourning Crow pounced off my chest and slithered behind a fake boulder.

I curled up, still seated, and turned toward her voice.

"Consider the origins," Mourning Crow whispered while crawling between the room's fixtures. "Hunting underground, sneaking up on your prey." The razkur snaked under a low-hanging archway and prowled closer in perfect silence. "You hear and see everything, but it comes at the price of two giant sails perched on the sides of your head."

Her long ears were low and hinged back, flowing gracefully behind her head.

Sneaky. Deceit. Concealing one's intent.

She crept up my side and knelt next to me on all fours. "Zhaguai lower fangs tremble when you laugh," the razkur pointed to my mouth. "I've witnessed sucklings do the same motion when their bearers return to their sight. Languages evolve, but the essence never strays."

Suddenly, Mourning Crow's insistence on reconfiguring my ship's sparring den came into focus. This was a simulation of Menthla's underground.

"How do I spot the lies?"

Mourning Crow flared her ears at me because I had unconsciously made my inquiry in Zhaguai.

I snarled and repeated myself correctly.

"Words have a texture when spoken in earnest," the razkur stood up with a smile. "Become fluent in the sensation and you will recognize when the ears don't match."

I grumbled in exasperation. "Is this how you trained your mate in that less essential language?"

Mourning Crow paused with her ears cocked quizzically in two different directions, sporting a mischievous grin across her lips.

"Yes..." her response was eerily elongated. "I suppose that was the inspiration. Physical activity does wonders for captivating your kind's attention."

I heaved to my feet, shaking my quills, wishing I hadn't asked.

All at once, a wicked notion of my own manifested.

"In the Joust..." I stood behind her, keeping a firm eye on her ears for any hint of deception. "I know such things are not typically discussed beyond the sacred time, but I must know, why did you drag out our fight?"

Mourning Crow twirled into action, her sickle pointed out and targeting my abdomen.

I hopped back and sprung loose a concealed fist shield hidden in my gauntlet to deflect her rapid advances.

On my Blood! Why is she laughing?

"Before we entered the arena," Mourning Crow lunged and thrashed at me like a wolverine on acid. "Dr. Kazz'mon said Zhaguai males have a twelve percent increase in mobility if they're incensed while copulating."

"Wha..?" The statement confounded me just long enough to let her blade knick me.

"I had no idea what she meant, so she simplified," Mourning Crow's ears were wide and swaying forward and back. Contrary to her vicious strikes, this was the razkur being playful. "She said, whoever I got, it was important that I made him extra mad."

Now fully aware of it, I felt my lower fangs begin to tremble. I tried to hold in the snicker, but within seconds, I burst into full-blown laughter.r.

Mourning Crow flipped over my head and twisted my left arm up from behind. "To be honest, I thought I was going to be paired with Dran."

"Dran?" My laughter dissolved into a derisive scoff.

"What's wrong with Dran?" Mourning Crow maintained her grip but leaned over to view my face with her ears perked in a forward-V.

Curious.

"He's ok," I pulled my head away, making no effort to free my arm.

"And?" Mourning Crow twisted my arm up further.

"And that's all he is," I disliked dispensing my opinion of my brethren who were not directly under my command and duty-bound to evaluate. But she was new to Jahaa. I had to make some things known. "He has skill and honor, but there is much of that in Jahaa."

"This isn't another lame rumor," Mourning Crow released my arm with her ears sharp and flat. "Like how most of the clan ostracizes Eh'kt for winning battles?"

This was forthright anger.

"No! They do what?" I turned to her in outrage. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since he was an orphaned child," Mourning Crow asserted.

"For fuck's sake," I snarled and shook my quills violently before taking a breath to contain my aggravation. "No, nothing like that. I only meant that your mate was correct in pairing you with the First Champion."

Morning Crow stared at me with her arms crossed and her ears high and stiff.

Ticked off and short on patience.

"We rely on the Joust bracket for a reason," I sighed. "Winning matters. However, where your fights may have been obvious decisive victories, the rest of us are calculated by many other factors. I've won dozens of free-for-alls, but only after Groon paired with his life mate and retired. Dran's numbers are good, I'll give him that, but he's never claimed First Champion and rarely ranks in the top ten. He's uncomplicated, just like his tactics. I defeated him easily in our preliminary match and I suspect his ranking this cycle had more to do with at least seven absent Forged warriors and two Elders who were off-world contributing to other clans."

"You seriously didn't know?" Mourning Crow was rightly concerned about her mate's lifelong censure.

"That members of Jahaa are punishing one of their own for attaining victory? No!" I scowled and flexed my claws. "There are always whispers that come and go, every clan has them, but I did not realize it had evolved into outright dishonor. This will be corrected."

"Eh'kt doesn't need your assistance," Mourning Crow angled her pale eyes at me like daggers.

"Of course not, he's my Adjutant," I jeered and swayed my quills. "My concern is that this is likely not an isolated incident."

"Sure," Mourning Crow waved her ears and semi-figure-eight. "We'll just pencil that in after peacefully procuring an U'la'ke Liege nymph and brokering a lasting alliance with Menthla."

Sarcasm.

I narrowed my eyes at her in irritation. "I am not the only member of the High Council who will find this news repugnant."

The razkur unlocked her arms and relaxed her hips with a defiant huff, "So prejudice doesn't influence your views on Dran?"

"This is purely my professional assessment," I stepped forward. "You deserve the best."

"Wow," Mourning Crow snorted. "And Eh'kt says I'm cocky."

"I was merely the winner..." I lowered my gaze. "This cycle."

Mourning Crow strolled away, shaking out her ears, "It's a good thing you didn't blow off the Joust like you did the Nexus."

"Blow off?" My long quills flicked and drummed my shoulders.

"Then why were you a no-show?" Mourning Crow flapped her ears wide, swinging them side to side once again.

She wants to play.

I closed my fist and reddied my fist shield. "I won the Nexus Melee for fifteen consecutive cycles. It was time for a harder challenge."

"And did you find it?" Mourning Crow twirled her chain sickle as she sauntered around me.

"My Dread was engaging but I can't claim it was fulfilling," I lowered my head and hunched my shoulders, eyeing the razkur's slender white ears closely. "My initial request was for the lunar colony where you performed your trial, but Oru denied it."

"Ouch, sorry," Mourning Crow dipped her ears then charged at me, enthralled that I was fully prepared to greet her. "You would have loved it!"

"Don't be. I was present in your assessment," I swung my fists down at her lead with the force of a sledgehammer. "Oru made the better choice."

Mourning Crow dodged easily and redoubled her efforts in a flurry of razor-edged metal.

"You spotted details I would have overlooked, including identifying the most worthy challenge," I kept her jabs in check, but her ability to maintain the offensive was impressive. I held the advantage in weight and height, and even with only a tiny hinged scythe against my shield and size, the razkur was remarkably formidable. "I would not have coerced that female scientist into combat."

"I listened to their conversations," Mourning Crow ducked and swerved to a position behind me. "Not intentionally. The sounds were in the air for the taking."

"But you were attentive to the relevance," I jumped up one of the grey pillars and climbed up to the ceiling.

Mourning Crow bounded up after me between two stalagmites moving with the speed of a scout U'la'ke.

"And when you killed the male warrior in front of her and spared his exo-suit..." I swung off to her left, then dropped to the ground to retrieve and quickly kick my axe handle back into my hand. "Perfection! You knew she was ready and that the male was standing in her way."

I spun momentum into my axe and slammed her sickle mid-air when she tried to swipe at my neck.

Mourning Crow faced me head-on, holding her ground and rattling my arms with each clash of her blade on my battle axe.

"The male's mastery of the exo-suit was impressive, but the female's vengeance was spectacular," I intentionally mixed Zhaguai words into the Oto-Winde, goading the razkur to punish me.

And punish me she did!

Mourning Crow whipped her body upside-down and cartwheeled around me, cracking me square in the face and then tackling me flat with her knees pinned over my shoulders.

"It was soo fucking awesome!!!!" She shouted at my face with her fists yanking at my quills and her heartbeat racing. "I wanna do it again!"

"Yes," I clicked calmly in satisfaction. "That is why we duel."

DING

The door to the sparring den chimed as one of my junior officers entered. "Alpha, we are approaching the next jump point."

Mourning Crow hopped up and let me rise.

"Shall we?" I made my request in full Oto-Winde and waved my hand toward the door.

We navigated the halls of my ship, the Black Needle, following my officer to the main bridge. This was the largest of my three ships and the one I spent the least amount of time on. It was a dreadnought-class warship and was a standard-issue transport for every member of Jahaa's High Council.

My most weathered vessel was The Yellow Lotus. It was a raider-class light cruiser outfitted with cutting-edge artillery and was the perfect size for off-world squad training and operating small Dread troupes.

But my pride and joy was Ice Fang. She was small and fast and specially modified for extended solo travel.

"So have you given any thought to my recommendation?" Mourning Crow spoke up as we passed one of the ship's eighteen crew quarters.

"You mean the traditional razkur greeting?" I clicked in irritation. "Where my entire crew stands in plain sight and sings in front of Menthla's largest city to introduce ourselves?"

The razkur nodded enthusiastically.

"Zhaguai do not sing," I scowled.

She's not going to let this go.

"Yeah, no shit," Mourning Crow chuckled. "I've heard Groon and his choir boys. But I figured out a loophole, so you wouldn't have to."

My chest heaved with a perturbed thrum.

"It's not cheating," she cut me off mid-grumble. "We're simply highlighting what it is to be Zhaguai. The entire point is to communicate who you are. It's how my people say hello, respectfully."

My mind flickered to the scene during the razkur's outburst in the Grand Assembly Hall lobby. Her words and her fury... it all had meaning that I still didn't fully grasp.

We entered the bridge where my crew was busy preparing the Black Needle and her defenses for the artificial wormhole jump. Every Nexus jump point was cloaked and securely encrypted, but their locations were intentionally unmanned to maintain discretion. It was important to cross with caution as we never knew what hazards awaited us on the other side. My presence was essential in case we were ambushed and forced into unexpected combat.

"Commence," I ordered, standing with Mourning Crow looking out through the main viewscreen.

"Yes, Alpha. Jump in five, four, three, two," my navigation officer intoned.

The stars bubbled and twirled into a messy squiggle of prismatic light. Then my ears popped and the space around us returned to normal.

This was the third of five long-range jumps we would be making before arriving at the edge of Nexus territory.

"No threats detected," my head security officer announced.

"Long-range scanners detect nothing abnormal," one of my science officers concurred from his station to my left.

"Adjusting coordinates to the fourth jump point," my navigation officer stated while typing into his console.

"Good," I nodded and let my crew continue their work. "Appraise me of the next jump. Continue as you were."

"Thinking we stick to the essentials," Mourning Crow continued once travel resumed and my presence on the bridge was no longer required. "I lay down the melody while you and your crew recite the honor code."

I escorted the razkur off the bridge and into the hallway, loathing my brain for conjuring a necessary question. "Will it be worthy of Jahaa?"

"Well..." Mourning Crow kicked her foot impishly. "There is one modification we could add to crank it off the scale."

I sighed because I was the jackass who knew better than to ask her.

"A duet," Mourning Crow grinned with her ears coiled up and inward.

I came to a halt and glared at her, whipping my long quills wide and sharp.

"Not with your mouth," the razkur had the nerve to giggle.

I clenched my fangs as my internal temperature skyrocketed.

"Since I got this assignment, I started doing a little tinkering," Mourning Crow wagged her ears.

"I will not be made a fool of," I growled.

Mourning Crow hushed my mouth closed with her index finger, "I made you a guitar."

"A...?" I pulled my head back.

"Novice grade, nothing like mine," she smiled. "It's modeled after the one my father built for me when he decided I was old enough to learn."

I scoffed and shook my quills.

"Baaaawk!" The razkur started clucking at me.

I lunged and growled in her face.

"You only need to learn a few cords," Mourning Crow completely disregarded my threatening stance. "And don't worry, the strings won't snap under your claws."

I stared at her, puffing out my nose. "This is stupid."

"This is how you show respect to razkurs," Mourning Crow crossed her arms.

She demands too much! It's bad enough we must reveal ourselves to Menthla, but she also expects us to waste precious training hours learning how to perform like clowns!

Trust me," Mourning Crow's ears danced sharp and high. "It's gonna so fuckin' hardcore!"

I rumbled at her in disbelief. "No! We may as well prostrate ourselves in the dirt before Menthla's leaders and admit irrevocable weakness!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!" The razkur burst out laughing, wiping cheerful tears from her eyes. "Seriously? Please elaborate, how exactly is love a weakness?"

"There is no greater vulnerability," I snarled.

Mourning Crow struck her fists on her hips. "Since when do Zhaguai circumvent pain?"

"Zhaguai do not surrender!"

"And yet you abstain from risking potential suffering," Mourning Crow smirked.

I roared at her, but the defiant razkur didn't budge.

"What greater challenge is there in life than to overcome the loss of a cherished loved one?"

My lungs deflated into silence.

A long-forgotten pins-and-needles sensation traveled across my limbs, followed by nausea and the edges of my vision blurring and greying out.

"Are you ok?" Mourning Crow's ears dipped slightly. "You look pale?"

Not now! It's been centuries... I cannot be seen in this state!

"Leave me!" I snapped and turned my back on her, leaving Mourning Crow in the hallway, standing alone.

...

We would arrive today.

I made an effort to avoid Mourning Crow beyond our scheduled language lessons, and I believe she made an equal assertion to not ask why I ditched her abruptly in the hallway.

It'd been centuries since my last full-blown panic attack. I thought they were behind me.

But after what happened when Mourning Crow brought up losing someone important I could no longer deny that my regimen for keeping my condition under control was still effective.

Cold. Meditation. Minimal communications with my bearer.

I had no choice but to revert to a more stringent routine that I implemented throughout my pre-Dread cycles.

Cold showers before every meal instead of once daily. More physical strain during meditation and never answer any incoming calls from my bearer. Only speak to her in a controlled environment with a precise time limit. An initiative I launched into action the second I entered my quarters after abandoning Mourning Crow.

In my absence, Mourning Crow arranged for the delivery of my starter guitar along with a holo recording of the chords I was required to master.

Shame permeated every inch of me when one of my ensigns handed me the instrument.

My bearer's words drummed in my head, the Zhaguai heart beats only for the kill. Everything else is weakness.

I made the mistake of allowing my heart to beat for my brother, Tharu, and no matter how many cycles passed, that weakness dwelled inside me.

Today, that failure would not stop me.

I put my mind and body on the proper path and my crew had the Black Needle running perfectly on schedule. Honor for Jahaa was close at hand, I only needed to locate the razkur.

...

I found her standing alone in one of the empty meditation chambers, staring out a window.

Something was off.

Mourning Crow, in her detailed introduction to razkur ears, gave an in-depth tutorial on the differences between masculine and feminine postures. Female razkurs, as the primary hunters in their society, were instinctually more aggressive and as such, often carried their ears high and sharp. However, males, despite being larger, were the predominant child rearers and were inclined to hold their ears low and level.

Her current state was unlike anything she had previously demonstrated.

She was quiet, with her ears hanging loose and low.

"Mourning Crow...?" I walked up to her but kept my distance.

The razkur quickly smooshed her hand across her eyes and I realized she was crying.

"Hey," she turned to me, her pale eyes sullen and puffy.

"I can return later," I hesitated.

"Is it time?" Mourning Crow feigned a smile.

It was true, her lifeless ears were a dead giveaway.

"Soon, we are in the final approach to the U'la'ke pride planet," I kept my tone measured and gentle. "My crew is completing the alterations you requested for the nymph containment room."

"Ok," a stray tear slipped down her cheek and she hurried to smear it away. She sniffled and steered her eyes away from mine. "I supposed it's only fair to tell you, legally, I'm required."

My stomach went cold.

"I lost the pouch this morning," her voice and ears were trembling.

The sight of her was agony. But the true torture was that I was completely powerless to help her.

"I spoke with Dr. Kazz'mon and she had your medical staff look me over," Mourning Crow continued. "She said I did nothing wrong. It was a chemical imbalance that impeded the embryo's transfer. She's certain she can correct it next time-" Mourning Crow choked up and her eyes began flooding again.

"Have you spoken to your mate?" I kept my eyes off her when she turned around to hide her face.

"Not yet," Mourning Crow shook her head. "He.." Mourning Crow struggled to speak evenly. "It would have been his first."

The razkur gripped her arms tightly as she tried her best to sob quietly.

I had the urge to reach out to her, hold her, do anything to ease her suffering, but it was not my place. In a single brief moment, my connection with her had been confirmed, rejoiced, and terminated. I was irrelevant. Only one Zhaguai had the power and privilege to comfort her in the manner that she required.

Instead, I raised my head and adopted an official tone."I came to inform you that our session today is canceled."

"Oh, what?" Mourning Crow's eyes rose to me with an anxious startle. "No, I'll be ok. This won't get in the way of our mission."

"That is without question," I responded curtly. "My attention is required elsewhere. We are far beyond the Nexus boundary, and the nearest jump point is three days at max speed. I anticipate success in your congress with the pride colony but it is my responsibility to be prepared for any setback. I have ordered the crew to perform a comprehensive audit of all critical systems. This will delay our arrival by one day."

"Oh," Mourning Crow looked up at me quizzically. "That sounds pretty sensible, especially if there's trouble while the nymph is on board."

"I know," I rumbled, narrowing my eyes at her.

The razkur flinched a tiny smile and her ears curled up a little.

"At this extended distance," I added, typing into my wristcomm. "When you speak to your mate, I insist you use a secure channel."

Mourning Crow's comm vibrated, confirming that the communication privileges were granted.

"Yes," she nodded. "Of course."

"Do what you must, to prepare yourself for tomorrow," I turned toward the door, keeping my back straight and letting my long quills sway as though her grieving meant nothing to me. "I need you at peak performance."

"I will bring honor to Jahaa," her voice fluttered into the hallway behind me.

My thoughts spiraled on her earlier directive about singing my truth to the inhabitants of Menthla, but the only lyrics looping non-stop in my mind were, hello, my name is Shale and everything about me is a fucking lie.

.

.

.

TRANSLATIONS:

Sawa'Kahjee = fuck off

U'la'ke/Abura = alien cat species that are mortal enemies of the Zhaguai. Have stinger tails with paralytic venom. Known as "The Felija" to humans. They live in large Prides. Lieges are the biggest, are both sexes, have large manes and thirteen tails. AlSO: a sacred predatory species that shares a symbiotic relationship with the Razkurs.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading. If you're enjoying please remember to click the ⭐star⭐to vote and help others discover this book. Wattpad counts votes for each chapter. And as always, comments are most appreciated.

Thank you for the support.😊

-A. E. Shelly (a.k.a. Oloo)