“Alright, my fuzzy friend. What’s it gonna be?”

From his vantage about four meters off the ground, atop a wide boulder the color of bleached bone, Malik peered down at the next member of Ryujin’s animal kingdom to make his acquaintance. Roughly ten meters away, his new acquaintance stood next to a tiny stream on the other side of the clearing. The fuzzy creature with fur the color of an unripe lime possessed the imposing frame of a St. Bernard. Six legs, each ending in a heavy tiger’s paw, were spaced evenly along the length of its bulky body. The two forepaws currently held a large green fruit that the creature was happily devouring while it studied the human with faceted eyes that glimmered like uncut emeralds. All the while, as if it had no cares in the world, a thick, fluffy fox tail swayed lethargically through the air behind it.

While the strange beast enjoyed its meal, Malik wracked his brain for the best way to get out of the clearing alive.

Preferably without the aid of a hypervelocity pistol round explaining his misgivings to the local wildlife.

Unfortunately for the floppy-eared raccoon/fox/cat hybrid, Mal’s track record when dealing with the local fauna did not inspire confidence. One of the two native species he’d met had become his best friend and an integral component of his survival. His encounter with the other species, however, had begun as a contentious relationship only to grow progressively more strained until it ended in a bloody battle for supremacy.

Fifty percent. Mal was no mathematician, but he was pretty certain that was what the data points of his small sample size suggested. A flip of the coin to determine whether or not one of them had to die today. Right here and right now.

Malik didn’t care for those odds.

It was almost enough to make Mal lower his EM pistol.

Almost.

I don’t want to shoot that thing, Malik thought as he began to slowly sidle to the edge of the boulder. What if it’s another pack species like the coatls? They nearly overwhelmed me and I could see them coming from a kilometer away. I might never see these varmints coming before one of them is ripping my throat out. Hell, there could be an army of them flanking me right now and I wouldn’t know it.

Can I just scare it? That didn’t work out very well with the coatls. I can try to startle it as a last resort, but that seems suspiciously close to the coin flip that I’m trying to avoid. Once I push this thing into fight or flight mode I’m not going to lose all influence over which side of the equation it ends up on. Damnit. I need O’Brian here. This was supposed to be one of the primary jobs of the science officers. They’re the ones that spent decades studying xenobiology and animal behavior. I can’t even tell the difference between a male and a female cat until one of them gets knocked up. Now, out here by myself, instead of being able to depend on their knowledge I’m going to get my dumbass eaten by a walking plushie if I’m not careful.

While Mal engaged in an internal monologue, as he is wont to do in times of stress, the creature in question watched him with the gleam of a sharp intellect shining in the depths of its eyes. Mal felt as uneasy beneath the cat-thing's gaze as he had when he’d been inspecting the Gloam trees.

Though its eyes refused to glance away from the strange, spindly human, it never stopped noisily snacking on the large green fruit it held clasped between its two front paws. Sharp canines filled the air with a wet tearing sound as it ripped away the fruit’s thick green rind with mechanical precision. Like an alley cat with a can of tuna, the alien animal greedily devoured its supper. Malik could see peeks of a long, pink tongue swiping at the yellow juice that dripped from the wet fur around its mouth.

All that changed when Mal tried to shuffle to one side of the boulder.

The six-legged creature with fuzzy green fur suddenly froze like a deer in a spotlight. Its long, floppy ears lifted straight up in the air just as a startled rabbit would. The bushy tail that had been waving in silent satisfaction stiffened straight as a flagpole. Nose twitching and supper forgotten, it reared back onto its third set of paws to rise to its full height.

Malik felt a cold slash of intimidation, like a razor made of winter wind, dragging down the length of his spine. With four of its six paws on the ground, the cat/raccoon/fox was the size of a Mastiff. Standing on its hind legs, as it did now, the beast stood as tall as Malik. If not taller.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Hey now. Let’s take it easy over there,” Mal said in his most soothing voice. He had to choke down the laugh that threatened to bubble up past his lips, like foam from a champagne bottle, when his new friend’s long ears twitched and shifted when he spoke. It was as if the cat thing was trying to find better reception to tune in to Malik’s channel.

There’s got to be a better way to do this. At this rate, that cute little critter’s brains are going to end up painting the ground a very sad shade of red. Think, Mal. How can we get out of here without resorting to more wet work?

He could only think of one plan. Desperate as it was, it would either be a massive success or a catastrophic failure.

With no better options on the table, Malik let his left hand slowly drift down to his utility belt. Long fingers deftly unfastened one of the pouches so he could withdraw a short, squat rectangle wrapped in silver foil. As non-threateningly as possible he lifted the tip of the ration bar to his mouth so he could rip one end open with his teeth.

I cannot believe I’m about to feed this fuzz ball one of my last ration bars. Maybe I should just shoot it. Nah. I can’t have the murder of cute woodland creatures on my conscience. Aside from those wicked claws, the cat/raccoon/thing…okay, that’s gotta stop. We need a name for this thing because I’m sure that I haven’t seen the last of its kind. I think carbuncle should do. Not the medical term. That would be gross. The old Earth mythology.

Should I go with chupacabra instead? Nah. It’s drinking fruit juice, not blood. Then again, those sharp pointy teeth are probably not the result of evolving into a herbivore. Hey, listen to me. Eat your heart out, O’Brian. I can sound biological too.

The carbuncle’s long ears twitched as if it’d just plugged its fluffy tail into an electrical outlet. Mal’s finger tightened on the trigger of his pistol, loathe to fire but unwilling to take any unnecessary chances. Mal sucked in a deep breath and then, before he could give himself an excuse to change his mind, his left hand swung forward to toss the ration bar onto the ground several meters below where Malik stood.

The second the ration bar left Mal’s hand, the carbuncle burst into motion.

Like a stroke of green lightning, the alien creature blurred across the small clearing faster than Mal could track with his pistol. No animal Malik had ever seen could accelerate that fast from a standstill. It was less like watching a cheetah chase down a gazelle and more like watching an arrow being launched toward a bullseye.

Holy shit!

Mal’s wide blue eyes followed the fuzzy monster as it rocketed across the small clearing to intercept the descending ration bar. Malik could hear the audible whoosh that cleaved through the air when the carbuncle’s heavy paw struck the bar to spike it into the ground. It immediately dropped low to the ground and began running in a tight circle around the fallen ration like a furry tornado. With each revolution, the carbuncle’s forepaws hammered down upon the ration bar with the fury of an angry blacksmith.

Lost in the otherworldly physicality on display, Malik lowered his pistol with an expression of slack-jawed amazement written across his face.

That fuzz ball could have killed me! And I thought it was cute!

It was an abject lesson in not taking this alien world for granted. He’d assumed that his weaponry was the ultimate equalizer. But the quality of his weapons wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t hit the necessary target. Or, as was the case with the Gloam trees, if he didn’t understand how dangerous something could be.

The carbuncle’s blistering speed began to fade into a more measured pace. Its chest heaving from exertion, the six-legged cat lowered its nose to the torn and shredded earth where the ration bar had fallen. The bulky creature gave the trampled ground a few dainty sniffs before tossing its head back with a triumphant lash of its bushy tail.

Emerald eyes rose once more to where the human stood upon the boulder of white stone. The uneasy feeling the predator’s gaze sent rolling through him made him tighten his grip on the pistol in his right hand. But he resisted the temptation to brandish the weapon.

Somehow he knew that their first meeting had come to a close.

All six of the carbuncle’s paws were padding lazily across the ground as it walked to the edge of the small stream to slake its thirst. Once it finished, it spared not a single glance over its shoulder as it padded off into the thick undergrowth to disappear.

Malik stood atop the white boulder long after the carbuncle had left. His blue eyes stared off into the brush as he listened to the sounds of the primeval forest all around him. There was so much to learn about this alien world.

He only hoped that he learned enough to keep himself alive till he could find his crew.

His mind filled with thoughts of a plucky captain, a bashful doctor, and a smartass astrogation officer, Malik made his way to the red stone road that would take him back to the beach. His mind had turned to memories of his crew because he knew that tomorrow he would take another step in the journey toward his comrades. An important step.

Tomorrow he planned to recover his lost drone.