Only an hour had passed, yet Harrison managed to forge four kilometers closer. The red forest shuddered with brisk wind flowing between the leaves, allowing the orange sun to flicker in and out of his vision. Continuing the trek, he encountered increasingly larger amounts of water which hampered his movement, forcing him to step into ankle-deep ponds often.

A constant *squelching* sounded throughout his ears with each and every step, the wet socks within his brown hiking shoes annoying him to no end. If it weren't for the disgusting texture that pressed upon his feet, he would have zoned out the noise altogether, but it persisted, torturing his every movement.

Yet, besides the major annoyance, he found the hike to be rather uneventful. He spotted sparse movement of animals—some bird-like creatures amongst the trees, along with small green amphibians that littered the ponds—and noted little anomalies along the trek.

Much of the journey was repetitive red forest, with the occasional difference in color due to a unique plant or from an increasingly uncommon animal—although they would hardly show themselves in his presence, Harrison was always able to spot the slight movement of a tree-borne critter or the near constant reverberating call from the waterborne creatures. Now? There was nothing. No movement, no new colors, and more eerily, *there was no noise*. His subconscious knew it wasn't right.

*Survival basics, lesson forty-eight: If the forest is abnormally silent, ambush predators are likely nearby.*

He crouched lower and readied his spear in front of him, concealing the sharpened point in the brush. The light wind rustled through the trees, sending a cold shiver down his spine, and clouding his senses with ambient noise. Gazing slowly through the dense foliage, he kept his eyes peeled for anything: movement, color, or a sign of activity. Everything was important.

When nothing made an appearance, he slowly duckwalked forward, the wet squelching of his shoes giving away any pretense of stealth.

*Step. Squelch. Step. Squelch.*

This was getting ridiculous.

Nope. That’s it. He was done.

The waterlogged socks had broken the camel's back. He was comfortable with trudging forward in wet socks if it meant his destination appeared all the sooner, but this? This was the last straw for his frustrations. Despite the tense air, the imminent danger, and every ounce of his survival training screaming for him to be careful, his wearied mind let the defeated feeling simmer. Boil.

Overflow.

He knew the socks weren't all that dragged at his mind—it was far greater than just wet footwear—and it wasn't only the small things, like his hatchet scratching his back while he walked, or even the itchy cuts on his legs.

The discontent was rooted in the planet itself.

Absolutely *nothing* went right for this brainless colony mission. It was foolish to think it would be some grand adventure. Like moths to a flame, he was led into the doomed project with no actual hope for success.

Was his crew really meant to be successful? Only four people sent to a completely unsurveyed planet, and they were still expected to set up a *fully functional* colony ready for *thousands* of humans to move into? He hardly knew much about the other pioneers, but he certainly lacked the degree of professionalism and grit it would take to wrangle the bullshit red world into submission.

The technician certainly knew what she was doing. His thoughts were grabbed once more by the surviving crewmate, the company of another would change everything. Especially hers.

As quickly as it came, the distracting thought was ripped out again by the infuriating feeling of moist socks wrapped around the engineer's feet.

Even if they hadn’t crashed, how could they deal with the broken physics of the anomalies—or better yet, the prowling monster that lurked by the beach?

Harrison let his frustrations seep into his bones as it boiled over.

He knew this feeling well; it was the same as ever. Little frustrations and uncertainties lined up—one after the other—and pressing on his mind until he lashed out. And lashing out had certainly happened plenty of times before. The pot was easy to boil over.

A tough week overseeing a factory ended with his girlfriend leaving him for someone else. That Friday left his fists bloody against the kitchen wall as tears dripped off his cheeks. Another time, he found himself left alone in a hotel room after his so-called ‘friends’ took him for an ATM on a group outing to Mars. Better yet, two days into that ‘vacation,’ his boss called to inform him that he was expected to attend an emergency shift.

He ripped the fucking wires out of those machines an hour into his duty, leaving to begin a job search that very night.

Now, here the engineer was, one whole galaxy away trying to comfort the worst situation with wooden *arts and crafts*. The higher ups knew the mission would fail, and left him here as a guinea pig, didn’t they? He wanted so badly to yell at the sky—to tell the whole red planet to fuck itself, or just have a smidge of control in the situation—yet, he was left with nothing but the trickling wind, even its cool touch failing to affect the heat building within his chest.

Was it anger issues? Probably. The waves of frustration, guilt, trepidation, anxiety, and searing anger flowed right through him as he glared daggers into the ground. Every single sensation only furthered the feelings, his equipment feeling like sandpaper riding his skin, down to the heavy spear listing the backpack slightly to the right.

A familiar warm liquid slid beyond his eyelids, leaving a salty trail in its wake.

He hated feeling helpless.

Setting his rear to the ground, he allowed the brown soil to dirty his khaki shorts. The moist wetland gave little comfort as he rested his wet eyes against his arms.

God, why can't he keep his mind straight?

The engineer's childhood dream of becoming a farmer rested on his mind, lending itself to his pity party. Wallowing in the brief stint of emotional trauma, he shriveled into a despondent state.

Harrison’s senses closed in on himself, and kept him in the dark.

Only the smallest sensations broke through the cocoon he formed, long minutes passed by as the engineer let the sun lay its warmth on his skin. Short noises infiltrated his mind through the long silence. A light trickling of water. The rustling of leaves. A short *thud*.

His eyes snapped open as he swiveled his head, the silence faltering once more.

*Whump*.

His mind sluggishly pulled away from the storm brewing behind his vision, the previous determination to survive shattering. His legs shook as he got himself up to a crouching position. One hand on a tree to steady himself as he considered his options.

The engineer knew he should sprint away, but the unnaturally heavy *clacks* grabbed his attention. He’d heard the same racket before—sheets of synthetic material falling against one another on fault factory floors.

A third crash allowed him to locate the direction of the commotion. Despite his puffy eyes, his simmering glare had little trouble finding the wide river clearing ahead, yet his tears blurred any details.

“Fuck … UGH.” He was familiar with grime on his face, but the dirt that dug into his vision as he tried to wipe away the tears reinvigorated his stacking frustrations.

Just more fuel to the fire.

He pulled his feet forward with heavy stomps, his peripheral vision glimpsing subdued movement from the other side of the water. Emotions stretched thin between fear and rage, never settling on one or the other. His eyes glared daggers towards the disturbance, his already lit fuse burning further.

Harrison observed the bulky creature unfurl its body to its full zenith; its height was enough for its entire head to be obscured by the canopy of red leaves hanging between them.

He knew this beast, and instead of the fear he should have expected, it riled up his pissed state of mind further.

Unreasonably tall, a filthy orange hue, an unsettling gait, and grotesquely thick fins.

That fucker was why he was stranded so far from his equipment. Why his legs burned from running so damn far. And worst of all, why his feet were weighed down by heavy waterlogged shoes.

It reached behind itself, pulling until sturdy slices of the brutish figure fell to the ground with a familiar *chink*. The monster’s size dwindled from its original hulking width with each additional piece. Another *CLINK* resounded as another piece fell to the floor from its thick legs.

As he watched, his curiosity overrode the burning ire toiling within.

Armor—or perhaps clothes of some sort. It didn’t have fins or orange skin at all, just layers of some material… Those heavy thuds certainly indicated it at least provided some protection. This could be his chance to strike against a vulnerable target.

But … wouldn't the armor imply some sort of crafting ability?

A million thoughts ran through the engineer's mind as he observed the being strip before him. Wouldn’t crafting indicate sapience? Did this creature have a civilization beyond the solitary nature he observed?

His questioning thoughts were promptly poisoned by its large form moving again. Deep down, he knew it was proper to observe the beast first, but his personal vendetta against it forced a few simmering steps forward.

Soon enough, only a lithe form remained before him. It finally peeled off the bottom leathery garments, and left only a white color from the bottom of its jaw to inner thighs. Thick maroon skin covered the rest of the body, accents of navy blue contrasting the extremities. Many light scars marred the smooth skin. Perhaps this beast had survived quite a few deadly encounters?

Brutish toned muscles lay underneath the battle-scarred skin ...

Limbs…

Was he seeing things? One, two, three? fou— Oh.

Two sets of arms jutted from the torso—both in line with their own set of pectoral muscles—yet one pair of appendages lay underneath the other. The members themselves were just as toned as the rest of the body, blue hands ending with sharp claws.

Its pectorals were complimented by robust and brutally scarred abdominal muscles just below. Exceptionally thick hips flowed into a long, meaty tail in conjunction with two long legs. Webbed feet came to sharp taloned points, mirroring the footprints he saw at the cave.

Those nails were ridiculously sharp, and he hated it. This thing ticked too many ‘apex predator’ boxes to be a fair fight for nature; tall, full of muscles, sharp talons, 4 fucking arms … the list went on.

It was bullshit.

Returning to the rest of the towering creat- … person? Person. A long snout sprouted from a smooth, shaped head. It lent itself to a narrow, aerodynamic shape. Two triangular wing-like fins on the side of the head acted in place of traditional human ears. Along with the ear accompaniment, two mohawk-shaped frills flowed from the top of the head to the back of the neck; navy blue in color, a lighter tinge between the spikes.

Between the long snout and the external head organs, were the eyes. He was caught by their glowing bright orange color; it betrayed the apex predator look of the alien, full of hope and wonder—surrounded by rather human looking eyelashes—its gaze peered back into his own.

Wait.

His legs stalled beneath him.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Eyes … were looking right back at him.

The primitive creature’s face flushed a deep blue—a defense mechanism to ward off would-be attackers?

Its predatory gaze lingered on him, moving two arms to cover itself in a defensive motion. One set was held high, covering its torso, the other set was a bit lower…

He readied his spear in retaliation to the clear sign of aggression, his pent up vengeance against the being spurring him forward. Freeing himself from this *primitive* would secure his safety going forward—first contact be damned.

But … that didn’t feel right, did it? His spear faltered slightly.

No, Harrison reminded himself once more that the beast before him was the cause of his suffering. It was why he was stranded alone without anything but the clothes on his back. He took a few more cautious steps forward and brought his spear up once more.

The maroon biped lifted its other pair of arms up in front of itself, palms wide open.

This was it. He braced himself to dodge the attack.

*“What are you doing, Star-sent?”*

An unmistakably female voice resounded within his brain. Angelic, yet deep, its reverberation bounced amongst his thoughts. It was nice. He could imagine himself falling asleep to its soothing baritone.

No.

That was NOT his internal dialogue. He stumbled a bit trying to concentrate on the threat in front of him. The monster’s mouth did not move the entire time, yet it raised an eyebrow at him.

It must be a psychic attack against him—damn this world’s demented wildlife.

*“I-I am no threat to you.”*

What?

The creature held out an arm towards him. He prepared for the expected attack, but found no excess movement from the alien.

He clung steadfast to the anger that pushed him forward. He needed to dispatch the threat immediately or find a way to escape. His strength shuddered as he locked his legs to keep standing.

“No, NO.”

His eyelids slowly blinked and threatened to close fully. Where anger once stood, exhaustion took its place. The day's efforts piled up behind his final outburst, with fatigue draining his muscles of their strength.

He looked at the person across from him and let his knees buckle, his last bits of energy sucked out of him.

On a direct course for the red grass, he was met with smooth skin as he let his eyes fall shut.

/= = = = =

The mainland was just as despicable as Father Monchanuo had warned; dangerous magics cursed the land, wretched beasts prowled the caves, and monsters roamed the open seas.

Shar’khee pressed on, despite the horrors. It was her duty as colony manager to shepherd her people to the new land–Even if her people were scattered amongst the land or at the bottom of the sea.

The gruesome images were pressed away. She was *the* leader of the expedition group. She would have to find who she could and begin anew; failure would only bring years of curses from the Gods.

She was rudely awakened on the beach by flying creatures attempting to pick the flesh exposed between the gaps in her alloyed armor. She could not remember what brought her to the sands, except the goal instilled upon her by the Grand Priestess. She got up, wiped sand from the cracks within her equipment, and got ready to work on gathering information, as well as hopefully finding her band of colonists.

The solo work was nothing she could not handle; she had spent countless nights within hostile islands or defending territory entirely by herself.

Except, each time there were still other Malkrin to converse with—even if they belonged to a rival kingdom. After a single night on the mainland, she grew anxious with no sign of other Malkrin making their appearance.

Many nights continued with much the same activities; wake up, collect survival necessities, look for the others, and repeat. Many times she had close encounters with the dangerous magics—some fire spit had even managed to char a bit of her tail.

Another day passed by, another morning spent gathering more shinefruits and continuing her search for the others. It grew upon her more and more, the anxiousness eating away at her mind. About her failure. About how little of her trial she had even started. Every time her eyes awoke from her minimal sleep, she could feel the pressure and shame stiffen around her until she started moving for the day.

But that had changed one day.

Without any warning, a deafening *crack* rang out above her, the sky had splintered into multiple star-sent fragments. Flames engulfed some of the rocks as they plummeted towards her.

She stood there in awe at the celestial sight unfolding right before her.

It was too grandiose for the islander to take in, yet—as she observed the beautiful catastrophe—one piece came uncomfortably close. It only grew in size as the seconds ticked by.

*She needed to move.*

Eyes widened as her legs held onto the ground.

Then, as fast as the sky rock appeared before her, it had already flown right past and pummeled the wetland forest behind her.

She was held frozen in shock and wonder. It was most likely one of the otherworldly dangers of the mainland, yet something within her urged her to pursue whatever lay at the impact. A subtly feminine voice seemed to whisper into her frills about its importance… None of the words truly settled in her mind for her to truly understand what she was hearing, but that hardly mattered. Shar’khee had a new goal.

She picked herself up from the daze and made her way to the star-sent rock.

She came upon the crash site, exhausted by what few minutes were spent in motion—smoke from the object acting like a beacon. Many trees bent in wake of the rock, while others were left smoldering in sparse fires. The scene reminded her of vicious war zones that left burnt and broken villages in their path.

She stood up to her full height to gather what information she could. The rock was made of a dark, ominous metal, and it appeared to be forged into a head that ended in a snout-like shape. The alloyed skull held a long slit where the eyes should be, just above the pointed front. The metallic beast showed no signs of life, its nose firmly embedded within the murky waters.

She cautiously moved towards the back of the severed head, forced to swim within the swampy waters.

Her mind flailed in every direction; caution, anxiety, fascination, and apprehension pulled her to and away from the skyborne rock. She was torn between leaving and continuing her search for the rest of the colony—the whispers be damned—or continuing on, perhaps uncovering the gift from the stars.

Yet, a curious opening amongst the charred metal caught her eye.

Partially submerged within the swamp’s murky liquid, an unnaturally rectangular hole presented itself to the Malkrin. Despite the miniscule size, the entrance felt purposeful.

This was her Gods’ chosen path.

Hunching down underneath the opening, she was met with an ominous hallway. Few doors lined the walls, each likely leading to unknown rooms, each just as small as the entrance. It faintly reminded her of the servant’s hall with its simplistic design; monotone walls, little lighting, and minimal decorations.

It was not entirely alien.

The skyrock was almost entirely made up of gray metal she had never laid eyes upon. This much metal must be a sick joke by the Gods at her attempted colony—never had her home island owned such an amount—and now, there was enough of the material here to change how the entirety of the Golden City was run; farming, hunting, and war equipment could be forged in droves.

She pushed forward despite the unsettling darkness. Nothing jumped out at her as she walked along the cold floor towards the closest door; It had no handle and she could not spot any obvious hinge it swung from. She attempted to push it to no effect. Perhaps it was no door afterall, but simply a decoration piece?

The wall piece was left behind in hopes of exploring the rest of the metal head. While she was occupied, more water had seeped into the hallway. She understood the time restraint, quickly moving towards the rest of the star-borne gift.

A hacking cough alerted the Malkrin to the presence of another. A raspy noise echoed from down the corridor, drawing her attention.

Shar’khee moved in to gather information on the outburst, making no effort to cover the noise her footsteps produced. An opening in the wall—*so they were doors afterall*—extended into a small room with two beds and a few clear cabinets.

A small creature—about the size of a Malkrin male—laid on a bed.

*A Star-sent?*

A cough from the creature made an open wound her focus; It leaked an unsettling amount of maroon liquid.

Was this a trial of the Gods? Could this be what the voice had urged her here for? She must have been tasked with saving this one

Briskly, she made her way to the creature, grabbing bandages with her upper arms on the way.

A loud growl from behind made another’s presence known. Yet before she could turn around, A heavy object crashed into her back, sending the Malkrin to the ground. Grasping arms attempted to hold down a pair of her limbs, but she had already made a move to throw it off her back with force.

Whatever pelted into her was hindering her trial, she *had* to get it out of the way. She shook off the brief blow and pushed herself off the ground.

Shar’khee stood up to her full height to gauge the threat. Another Star-sent sat between her and the original, a dazed but determined gaze lay upon its scowl. A similar growl was let out to warn her to stay back when the new one had slipped and fell unconscious. She flinched at the painful display of clumsiness in front of her.

The next few hours were a blur after the short interaction. She checked on the Star-sent beings and attempted to assist as she could, but the first one had passed to the stars during the brief investigation.

That left only *one* she could save.

She checked the rest of the crashed debris for anything else of note, finding the corpse of one more. She had taken too much time; the Gods punished her initial apprehension of the gift by taking the Star-sent away from her.

She would *not* fail the last one.

Carefully picking up the last living creature, she spent much time walking it to a safe cave. It was a heavy being despite its small male-like stature.

When safely in the cave, she left some bare essentials for it: shine fruit, water, and some bandages if need be.

The sun outside made its warmth scarce. She let herself observe the unconscious being a few paces away. It was shaped nearly identical to a Malkrin, with a few notable differences; it had only two arms, odd thin garments, no talons or frills of any sort, and a rounded head that held a fuzzy mess of brown fur. She caught herself leaning over, trying to touch the head fur, but stopped her childish urge. Maybe she could ask it later…

Sleep soon caught up with her tiring day; she had dreams of large, metallic, moving creatures fighting her kingdom's enemies that night. Then something about “wrist raw-kets,” whatever that was.

Waking up—and promptly forgetting last night's dream—she got ready to leave the cave. Whilst preparing for her morning routine, she tripped and fell over a bumpy rock on the ground. Looking back, she realized her mistake and quickly asked the Gods for forgiveness for harming their star-sent gift.

She finalized her preparations and set out for the morning, taking in a final look at the curious creature. It appeared troubled in its sleep, groaning and turning in place. She wanted to do something about it, but quickly gave up the idea in favor of completing her duty.

An uneventful gathering of food passed, and soon she returned to the cave to greet the hopefully awake creature. The Malkrin found nothing.

The Star-sent was gone. This was it. She failed the Gods.

She paced around the cave, letting her mind run with guilt. If they did not curse her, the Grand Priestess certainly would.

Dread flowed through her snout and down to her tail. The Star-sent was supposed to be a gift from the Gods. She knew the alien was meant to have some purpose for her colony—it was the Gods’ will, after all. She had to find it and make sure the being was safe.

She turned to look within the dim cave once more, some small part of her hoping it was still near. Yet, the larger part of her knew it was to be a long day nonetheless.

/- - - - -

Still nothing.

She could not even locate the missing people of the colony. What made her think that she could find the missing alien?

Failure after failure, it was almost too much to bear. Not only was she failing the Grand Priestess herself, but now she could not even receive a gift properly. It would have been better if she had stayed with the creature until it awoke from its unconscious state. Now, here she was, trudging through the muddy marshes thousands of paces away from where she started.

There was absolutely no way to know where the Star-sent could be. She left the cave and instantly came upon a lead, footprints were dispersed amongst the sand, but they soon gave way to much harder forest floor, leaving her in the dark once more. She followed the vague direction the clues indicated, and would occasionally pick up a unique scent—where following it would appear fruitful for a while—until it would abruptly stop and leave her with nothing.

Excitement would plaster on her face when the now familiar scent ran through her olfactory—a salty, musky, and oddly moist smell that stained her nose—then frustration would seep in minutes later, when her nose found nothing but the common scents of the forest.

Hours passed. The same cycle of picking up the scent, and then abruptly losing it continued. The walking had dirtied her armor and undercoat considerably, causing it to drag on her psyche. It grated between her webbed feet, and caused havoc beneath the leather garments, yet she persevered forwards in hopes of rectifying her mistakes.

Just when the uncomfortable feeling of filthy dirt permeating her skin was becoming too great to handle, she stumbled upon a flowing river. Shar’khee was never one to take a gift for granted, so she used the break to part from the heavy armor, in addition to the necessary wash.

With a heavy *Thunk*, she sat on the grassy riverside and took off the fitted helmet. The guilt of failing her trial permeated through her as she attempted to enjoy the moment of rest—stress making it difficult for her mind to find peace.

She practiced many arts under her Order mentors: Combat, religious specialties, or even crafts-centered masteries had been drilled into her from a young age. She had worked hard for her high status as a paladin, yet—despite her lack of expertise in leading peoples—she was chosen personally for the task of forging a new province on the mainland. It puzzled her greatly as to why, but she took the task and set her mind on seeing it completed, no matter the difficulty.

More pieces of the orange armor were peeled off her aching limbs, her leather undergarment taking little effort to slip out of. The colony efforts went horribly, Lord or the Mountain, she did not even know how their ship had failed them. She only remembered leaving the island with twenty-three others and suddenly appearing on the orange sands. It felt almost purposeless to look for the rest of the colonists; they most certainly laid with The Leviathan at the bottom of the sea.

Her days here only became more sluggish as she searched and searched for nothing to change. The excitement of a star-sent gift elated her—it was a sign that her perseverance was being blessed by the Gods—yet, she squandered the opportunity as well.

The Star-sent being was probably long gone by now, far out of her reach. It really was her one opportunity, and now she questioned whether she should even continue searching for the…

Slow movement was caught in her peripherals.

…rogue…

She shifted her neck to the side.

…Star-sent…

Her eyes scanned the forest for the briefest of moments. Then, with a short lowering of her head, she focused on the short creature in front of her.

She glared into the eyes of the creature. A cool breeze made her all too aware of her vulnerable and *bare* form. She noticed her own snout grow a deep blue in the presence of the other.

Her arms reacted quickly, and moved to cover what she could—only then was the being’s weapon made present, the crooked wooden spear shaking in between them, the weapon appearing to falter slightly in wake of her presence.

She held out her arms in front of herself in a peaceful offering to the aggravated individual. *“What are you doing, Star-sent?”*

It flinched, stumbling on its tensed legs. Eyes closed and shaking its head, the alien was clearly fighting something within its mind.

*“I-I am no threat to you”*

As the being tensed itself once more, the Malkrin felt the turmoil within its brain, struggling to vocalize its disdain for her words. She stared into its eyes—they were irritated and sore, lids threatening to fall at any moment. The final puzzle piece revealed itself.

Exhaustion.

Clear and simple.

She sympathized with the completely alien being.

It stumbled and fell to its knees, but she was there to catch the limp body. The little bit of empathy she held for it went a long way to reinforce her loyalty to the deity-given quest. She would not let the alien leave her sights, and the Gods would reward her efforts.

This time, failure would not be the outcome.