“What do you have against Mirroeans?” I ask, but he just scoffs. Curious. “Honestly,” I tell him. “I’ve met plenty of Mirroeans and there’s nothing wrong with them. They’re nice, friendly.”
The alien cocks his head at me. “Are you Mirroean?”
“What? No!” I tell him, surprised at the question. “I’m from Mars.”
“A human from Mars? How interesting. You weren’t born on Earth?”
It’s a fair question. I know plenty of humans from Earth. My parents are both from there, but I was born on Mars. I was born after the planet was destroyed, after our home world was gone. I was born a refugee, a child on a planet that will never be hers. I’ll never be a Martian. I will always be a lost girl.
“No. I wasn’t born on Earth.”
“Why are you here?” He narrows his eyes, and once again, I’m caught off guard by how beautiful they are. This man, this being, has eyes that can see to my very soul. For some reason, I feel very naked around him. I feel like I have no secrets when he looks at me like that.
“I’m just a traveler,” I lie, and I’m surprised when he laughs loudly. He doesn’t push me off his lap, though. He doesn’t make me move.
“A traveler with no luggage,” the alien says. “A traveler with no luggage who just happens to be wandering through the most deadly parts of the Sapphiran jungle? I don’t think so, sweetheart. Try again.”
He’s not wrong that I’m lying, but I hate being called out on it. Who does this guy think he is? Suddenly, I forget about his eyes or how he took care of me when I was scared and overwhelmed. I push off his lap and land ass-first in the dirt. Then I turn around and look up at him. Even sitting, he towers over me.
“Why I’m here is none of your business,” I say. “Now, if you’ll just point me in the direction of civilization, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Out of my what?” He reaches for his head and touches his locks. They’re blue, like the rest of him. “What are these words you speak of, human? You are not in my hair. Nothing is in my hair. There is only hair.” He pats his head, and I roll my eyes. Sometimes it’s easy to forget I shouldn’t use Earth slang around non-humans. It only leads to confusion and miscommunication.
“It’s just a saying,” I tell him. “It means I’ll leave you alone. Just tell me which way to go.” I point to where I was walking. “Is that the right way?”
He shakes his head.
“What about there?” I point another way.
Once more, he shakes his head, indicating I’m not even close to figuring out where I should be going.
“Then where do I go?” I ask.
“We’re in the jungle,” he sounds shocked by my questions. “You’re at least a two day hike from anywhere: three if you don’t have transport waiting at the jungle’s edge.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. I pick up a rock and throw it down, frustrated and angry. I escaped one hell-hole only to be thrust into another. I don’t really consider this place to be hellish, though. Not if I’m honest with myself.
Sapphira – if that’s the planet I’m on – is beautiful. Everything is so much prettier than Mars. Everything smells better, sweeter. Aside from the berry incident, it seems safer, too. Even if returning to Mars was an option for me, I kind of think staying here might be nice.
And the men don’t seem to be that bad, either.
I shouldn’t be attracted to the big blue guy, but I can’t help myself. Even if he’s a little bit of a jerk, he’s also nice and thoughtful, and I sort of like that. I sort of like the way he took care of me and sang me a song when I was scared. It’s just a pity I’m going to have to leave him.
He probably has a wife and a family and a job that doesn’t involve saving random humans who get lost in his forest.
“Where are you going?” The man asks me.
“Where are you going?” I turn his question on him, but he doesn’t answer, once again resorting to silence. Is that how this guy works? He’s quiet until the other person gets uncomfortable enough that they just start talking?
I don’t want to play that game anymore.
I growl at him because I’m frustrated, because I have nothing else to say. I just want to know what to do. Life was simpler when I was a child, when I had parents, when I had friends. Life was easy when I was little and there was always someone to tell me exactly what I was supposed to be doing.
Now that I’m an adult, the world seems much more difficult, much more challenging. The world seems like it’s not so great. The world seems confusing. The world seems like one wrong choice could be the end of everything, so I’m scared to do anything.
Finally, I stand up. I can’t stay here. I know that much. It’s probably going to start getting dark soon and I need to find somewhere to sleep for the night. I look at him and nod.
“Thank you for saving me from the berries,” I tell him. “That was v