“Armworms?” she asks, her eyes flicking to the door then back to me.
I show her with my hands how big they are. “They’re feral. Sharp teeth. Quick. Territorial. They like to nest up high, away from predators.” I unsheathe my magknife. “I will kill them if they try to attack.”
Her nog bobs quickly. She clutches my arm over my suit, and for once I don’t recoil. The other morts typically don’t touch me and respect my…issues. But it’s not like it doesn’t occasionally happen on accident. Normally, I bolt at such incidents, but with Molly—my mate—I don’t feel the pressing need to escape. If anything, I have the urge to reassure her everything will be okay.
“Come, my mate,” I grunt.
She gives me a small smile and a nod. I open the door, and she follows behind me. The winds aren’t as harsh and unforgiving now that the massive geostorm is finally beginning to move from the area. We won’t need harnesses. It makes me wonder if Calix and Emery will travel back to the facility once Emery has given birth to their mortling.
I make quick work of checking The Tower for armworms. There aren’t any lurking around, so I guide her over to the northeast side. The mountains in the distance are lit up by the magnastrikes in the geostorm, but just before that, Lake Acido remains visible. The waves are tumultuous on the large, dark, red lake. I scan the parts of the lake that are closest for any beasts roaming. Unfortunately, there are none. I’m growing tired of greenbunches and long for some meat.
“The lake is red,” Molly says, pointing. “I thought lakes were supposed to be blue.”
I think about the underground wells deep below the facility. Those miniature lakes are bright blue and shimmer in the dark caves. The water is crystal clear, and you can see small sand swimmers on the bottom. When Hadrian was small, he was always getting his rump swatted by Breccan for jumping in after the sand swimmers. Maybe I’ll take Molly there one solar soon.
“It’s unsuitable for swimming and drinking. The acidic levels are high. Anything that falls into that lake doesn’t come out,” I tell her. “The beasts don’t drink from it but instead find springs that are fed from the underground wells.”
“Beasts…like the armworms?”
She scoots closer to me as though she is frightened. I fist my hand. The urge to place my hand on her back and draw her close is nearly maddening. But I would shame myself the moment I lost myself inside my mind. Like when she touched me the moment she hatched from the pod. I’d succumbed to the fear and melted on the spot. It’s too risky in The Tower. I need to keep my distance and my mind sorted, so I may keep her protected. I edge slightly away from her.
“Sabrevipes are the most predatory creatures in the vicinity. They’re massive, violent, and deadly. Hadrian nearly rekking went to The Eternals from facing off with a young sabrevipe not long ago. They are not to be messed with.”
“Lovely,” she says, her voice tight. “Are there any animals that are nice? Like farm animals?”
I cock my nog to inspect her. Her lips seem puffier than Aria’s and Emery’s. Like they are full of something and squishy. If I weren’t the way I am, I’d ask her if I could see what her bottom lip felt like under the point of my claw. My curiosity of such silly things has a growl of frustration rumbling from me. This is more Hadrian’s area. Curiosity that could get him killed. Something tells me if I go touching this little alien, it’d get me killed, too. I don’t know what or why or how, I just get a feeling.
“I do not know these farm animals you speak of.”
“Horses? Pigs? Chickens? Cows?”
I slowly nod at her. “We have rogcows. Heavy beasts. Fine tasting meat.”
“Do they moo?”
“Moo?”
She lets out a snort of laughter. “Mooooooooo.”
My lips twitch. I’m reminded of Hadrian when he was only a few revolutions old running through the facility roaring like a young sabrevipe. He bit Avrell like he was one of those feral beasts. I’d been amused. Our commander, however, was not. Breccan made him wash the entire Facility from top to bottom with a wet cloth, and then he was made to assist Avrell for many solars until he was forgiven. Avrell still has those scars on his forearm.
“They don’t moo,” I tell her with a smirk. “They ronk.”
“Ronk?”
“Ronnnnnnk,” I drawl out, my voice growing deeper to mimic the rogcows. “Ronk-ronnnnk.”
Her giggles seem to filter through my suit and get inside my veins. The rare smile on my lips fades as I ponder too long on the idea of her laughter being something that’s as invasive as The Rades. It’s preposterous, but it unnerves me all the same.