1

“Pay attention,” he commanded, waking her up from the quick nap she snuck into. The little girl raised her head groggily and rested it on her hand, her half-open eyes looking in the direction of her disappointed father. “I asked you, what's twenty multiplied by eleven?”

She slowly blinked and pretended to be thinking of an answer, studying her environment idly instead. If he didn’t want me sleeping, he should’ve chosen a less cozy place… she thought, looking down at the bark he pulled for her to write on. The trees cast the area in deep shadow, blocking them from the harsh sun; a small stream ran behind them, its gentle trickling like soft music to her ears; and the insects buzzed around from mossy tree to mossy rock, shining their colorful bodies as they danced—it was all very relaxing. Not to mention the fact that the forest was a comfortable temperature, mimicking the way she felt when blankets covered her and the rest of the room was cold. All being there did was make her want to sleep, and she already wanted to sleep before they even got there. She felt like napping again; her head became heavy, and her eyelids did the same, bringing her back down on the stump…

“PLUM!” her father yelled, slamming his palm on her makeshift desk.

“I’m awake!” she said, jolting upright. “I’m awake! Dang!”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, I’m just sleepy,” said Plum. “Leave me alone…” She climbed off the overturned log and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he asked, unkindly. “We’re not done here yet! You haven't answered a single question right, so we have a lot more work to do. Someone your age should be at a higher level than this. Don’t you walk away from me!”

She turned around and looked straight at her father in rebellion, her small face frowning, and her hands curled into fists. She patted down her simple pink dress, whose hem ended just above knee, and made sure the red bow tied to her long braid was in order as well. With that straightened out, Plum shut her eyes and stuck out her tongue, an act of disrespect her father gasped at. Satisfied, she walked off.

“Plum!” he yelled. “Get back here right now!”

But she was already gone

2

Cammo grunted to himself and pushed aside the bark and knife he’d given her to work with off the stump, using it as a seat. He pushed his hair back behind his ears. His dull red t-shirt, baggy red pants, and matching boots suddenly felt hot despite the cool climate, and he began to sweat. What a day, he thought, fanning himself with the discarded bark. No matter how much time had passed, too much time alone with his only daughter drained his soul, and he guessed it drained hers as well. Cammo couldn’t deny that. Plum was his wife’s job.

As if summoned by the thought, she stepped through the trees behind him. Cammo turned only his head, watching her out of the corner of his eye, still fanning himself with the bark. She was as pretty as the day he met her, despite how hollow her cheeks had become, and she met Cammo with the same white nightgown she slipped in and out of bed with, her feet bare like her daughter. Cammo straightened as she came near, his eyes and hers on the same level; that was a rarity, as he stood more than a foot above her usually. Locine smiled weakly—all her smiles were weak—and raised the bottom of her gown, exposing her bare knees to the grass and dirt as she knelt. Her scarlet hair, wavy and long, met the tall grass and swayed along with it in the breeze. Cammo turned on the stump.

“Locine,” he said, “she ran away.”

“I have ears, Cammo,” she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temple. “Why do you have to yell at her? She’s dealing with enough right now.”

“That’s exactly why she has to toughen up,” said he. “Things are changing, Locine. The Blood Moon is a way off yet… but it may come when it’s just me and her. She has to be ready for that.”

Locine frowned. “How long?”

“Another half-year,” Cammo said. “And I think it’s time for her to watch.”

“But… but she’s only eleven, Cammo. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “She needs to see danger to believe it. Your horror stories aren’t enough, though I’m sure you’ve given her her fair share of nightmares. But as you’ve seen, she’s stopped having them a long time ago. She’s a big girl now. Reality is what she needs to have nightmares about.”

“They’re just stories, Cammo,” she said. “To entertain and distract from…” She grabbed the bark and examined the scratching upon its back. “Sums? Really, Cammo? I’d run away.” She tossed it aside, another wan smile on her face. “She gets that from me, I bet. You know I was never good with numbers…”

“Locine,” he began, coming off the stump, “how much time do you think you have?”

She’d been sick. And that sickness had taken hold at the beginning of the year, always growing worse and never improving, no matter what they tried. It wasn’t contagious, thankfully, but that was where their blessings ended. It made her ribs show and hollowed out her eyes, making her look half a skeleton. Cammo knew that it was just a matter of time. Recently, she even began coughing up blood in violent fits where no water could heal her throat.

She looked at him in the eyes and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Not long,” she said. “Maybe… no, not even three months.”

“Don’t talk like that!” he exclaimed, frustration coloring his stony face. “You have to have more time than that!”

“Shut up!” she said, surprising him. Locine was not a screamer. “We both know that what I’ve been doing hasn’t been working. We both know that I’ve been getting weaker with every passing day. And we both know that there isn’t anything we can do… I’m going to die.”

He shut up and tore his gaze away, facing towards the nature surrounding them for any kind of guidance. All she had done was state the truth out loud, where he’d only been thinking it. No doubt Plum was thinking it too, he thought, wondering where it was she had left for. Plum used to be scared of him, but now she turned disrespectful. Whether that was up to age or Locine’s condition, Cammo guessed both had a play.

Locine got up and rested her forehead against his back, interlocking her fingers with his. “I’m sorry I could only give you one child,” she said, her voice quiet again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give her any siblings, or you any sons, or any more daughters.”

Cammo took a deep breath in. “Never apologize,” Cammo said, squeezing her hand back. He couldn’t blame her for that. They’d tried more times than they could count but only Plum made it through. Locine’s injury considered, Plum was a miracle. “I knew what I was getting into, and I don’t regret it.” His stony expression returned. “So never apologize… You’ve done enough. Understand?”

He could feel her nod against his back.

“I just…” he sighed, “I just don’t know how I’m going to deal with her without you.”

“Look at me,” she said. He did, and when he did she grabbed his face and pulled him down, planting a deep kiss on his lips. “You’ll do great.” The next one was a peck. “She’ll be back by sundown, right?”

“She always is,” Cammo said. His face gave her no hint of a grin, but she was married to him long enough to know it was just hiding. “You know that.”

The smile was weak but sultry as well. “Good…” she said, in her eyes a goal Cammo could very much get behind. “I’ll be too weak for it soon enough… Wanna roll, my love?”

The smile was in his eyes. A nice “roll” would be a welcome distraction. “I always do.”

He put a hand under her knees and behind her back, picking her up with a small yelp of surprise. “Cammo!” she giggled, blushing. “You beast!”

“Come on, love,” he said. “Let's roll.”

3

Plum ran for half an hour before stopping at the foot of an exceptionally tall tree, panting as she bent forwards with hands on her knees. The hill she stood on was a steep one, and peaceful too. It was her favorite place. Not the ground, though. It was the top of tree that she loved the most—an arduous climb due but not an impossible one, as she made it many times before. Still, she cursed her height and cursed the tree’s height too; standing at almost twenty-five feet, the thing was twice as tall over the average twelve that all the other trees in the forest grew to. She didn’t let that stop her from gripping the bark with her small hands and climbing up its trunk, grunting as she pulled her smallness up and up and up, her fingers and toes gripping the bark as she caught her breath before moving along again. Cammo didn’t approve. But Cammo didn’t approve of anything she did, so why care? Stupid… she thought, grabbing a branch while gaining a foothold. I’m not some little kid anymore… All he ever seemed to do was show disappointment, or scream at her, and sometimes ask, “What’s wrong with you?” She hated that one habit the most, because all she could think was, If there’s something wrong with me, and you made me, then what’s wrong with you? And every day she was closer to saying it out loud.

Her legs still felt sore from the running so she rested on one of the branches, where she then looked up to see how far she’d gone. There was only a quarter of the tree’s height to go before she was at the top. Her mind started to wander as she wiped the sweat on her forehead… and it wandered straight into the sore subject that was her mother’s condition. She shook her head fiercely and went back to climbing, pushing that reality behind her current one—reaching the top. And in under a minute, she did. The large tree that stuck out of the hill wasn’t her favorite because it was peaceful (everywhere was) or pretty (everywhere was) or safe (everywhere was)—it was because it was high. It so high that she could see the entirety of the forest uninterrupted; plus, the breeze felt nice on her skin and the top branches shielded her from the sun's rays. She was getting so comfortable that the heaviness of her head and eyes started to return, but she snapped herself awake. I’m not going to have another nightmare, she swore to herself. I just won’t sleep. Simple as that…! But it didn't feel so simple.

Last night she dreamt that her mother had woken her up in the middle of night by coughing, but her father hadn’t moved an inch, his body like stone on their bed. Then her mother began to vomit blood, before collapsing on their stained sheets and ceasing to move. And no matter how much she screamed for Locine to move or Cammo to wake up, they didn’t hear. She herself couldn’t do a thing as the sheets she was sleeping under tucked themselves in so tight that it was hard to breathe…

The only nice part about them was that they only came once in a while…but that too was changing. It now seemed that she got the stupid things every other night, which made getting decent sleep harder than it’d ever been in her entire life. Naps were fine, however, and to Cammo’s anger she took them any chance she could. Nightmares were Locine’s—like almost everything apart from sums and other boring subjects—domain, and it was her Plum would come to when she had a terror in her sleep. But this one she kept to herself. The last thing she wanted her mother to know was how scared she was about her sickness, especially after she’d gone to great lengths to feign ignorance; she did it for herself as well. She didn’t want to think about it. Who would? It was easier to ignore it and hope it’d go away. Fat chance of that, her mind muttered. You’re dreaming about it to for a reason.

Plum looked towards home to distract and entertain herself. Even from this distance the place stuck out like a sore thumb, filling her with some strange nostalgia despite her still living there. It was an absolutely massive ivory tree that stood almost forty feet in the air, wide enough to live in—which they did, hollowing out three stories and a basement—and live comfortably, with branches high, making up a wide and flat crown of dark purple leaves. From this far, it kind of looks like a mushroom, she thought. But only if you squint. Her father had felled the branches along the trunk to unblock window views, keeping the ones at the very top for shade and shielding from rain. She could barely see the crops that surrounded it because of the trees but felt hungry thinking about them either way. Still, she didn’t want to go home just yet. Her father was no doubt complaining about his disappointment of a daughter and her mother was no doubt coughing blood into a bucket. She didn’t even know if she wanted to come by sundown, despite all her mother’s warnings. Alone, she pouted. And her head felt heavy…

She hugged the up-tilted branch she’d been sitting on and secured her position, knowing that a fall from this high would NOT be good. She also forgot the promise she made to herself about staying awake. I wonder what they’re doing, she wondered as the call to shut down became impossible to ignore. As she experienced, naps were fine. So, she hugged the wood and shut her eyes, drifting off into sleep…

4

Locine hadn’t aged a day in Cammo’s eyes, and the feeling of her body against his was all the proof he needed as he pumped in and out of her with a hungry grin, pinning her arms to the bed as he looked in her eyes. Pausing, he bent his back forward to reach the supple mounds that were her breast, sucking on them as a moment of reprieve before straightening himself out and thrusting again. “Oh!” she moaned, crossing her legs and locking him there. “Cammo!”

In his mind, there were three things needed to keep a relationship alive: a goal, love, and some nice fun in bed. And Locine had given him all three.

It almost felt as if the room was melting away, leaving them in a void occupied by just the two of them as he lowered and raised himself in and out of her in an act he liked to call love. The shelves of preserved fruits were gone. The woven mats and carpets were gone. The fleshy wooden walls and floors were gone. Her sword, small and thin, and his, thick and wide, were also gone. The stairs leading up and down the entire house was gone. And even the bed they were using to facilitate coitus was gone. Just her and him, melting together as one. He kissed her deeply, letting go of her hands to hold her head and lower back, where she kept a grievous scar. It felt like a moment that could last forever, as even time began to melt away… But the moment he pulled his head back, she breathed in, and it sounded wet and clogged.

Locine pushed him away with both arms, using the moment he leaned back surprised to unlock her legs and gain some distance, turning away. All Cammo could do was stare, confused, until she grabbed a clean rag nearby and began to cough into it violently, her whole body heaving. She’s sick, he suddenly remembered, his expression hardening. You were too rough, fool. She can’t handle that right now. He scooted over and patted her back as she sat up. “Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing the blanket they threw aside in their fervor and putting it over her shoulders. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she protested in between coughs. “No… I’m sorry… I ruined it…”

He just sat in silence, waiting the full minute it took for her lungs to calm down. When she was done, he just slid the tin bucket full of other stained rags towards her. She halfheartedly tossed the one in her hands with the others. “What did I say about apologizing?” he asked. “It’s not your fault. Obviously, I was too—”

“You were too nothing!” she snapped, stifling another cough that followed the outburst. “It’s ME. I was the one who overestimated myself, okay? I thought I could do it, and I was wrong. I thought I was healthy enough, but I wasn’t… How could you have known? You were more gentle, too, this time. It was just me.”

And then they were both silent. It felt like they reached the point of no return—that it was getting close to the end. Their conversation in the afternoon reared its ugly head. “I’m going out,” Cammo said, getting up.

“What? Where?” she asked, watching him dry off. “Cammo?”

“I’m…” he began. He tried to face her but couldn’t, looking away. “I just need to swallow this, Locine. It’s a hard thing to swallow. And if your time is coming…” He frowned, one hand becoming a fist. “Me and Plum can’t stay if you aren’t here. We just can’t. I… I just need some time to think, love. I need to make plans. You know I won’t be gone for long.” He got dressed. “Not long at all, I swear. Just a bit of time to myself…” He started down the stairs.”

“Wait.”

He stopped and turned towards her. His eyes were wet and close to tearing, a sight that she only saw once during their many, many years together. Cammo was the definition of stoic, and “stoic” did not mean emotionless. Like her, he realized that the estimation she gave concerning how long she had to live was wrong—it was shorter. And he would deal with that fact his own way: alone. “I got to go now,” he said, hiding his face by turning his attention towards the bottom of the stairs. “The jers will be roaming soon…” He snatched his sword and slipped the holster over his back. “Get some sleep, drink some water, and rest up. I won’t be long.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it…” She changed the sheets as quickly as her weakened body could manage and laid down. “Good luck, bring something big.”

“I will,” he said, and went.

5

Plum woke up in a cold sweat, shivering in the dark from the nightmare that visited her once again… It wasn’t a nap she had fell into; it was sleep. She wiped her face and sat up, setting her back on the tree trunk as her heavy breathing slowed to a calm. It’s night, she suddenly realized. The stars had shown themselves and the sun left the sky. It’d been noon when she climbed. I must’ve overslept. The forest looked no different to her in the night, her eyes making every dark crevice seem just as clear as one thrown into the sun. The only difference is what hung above them. The young girl flipped onto her stomach, hugged the branch she sat on again and placed her feet on the trunk she was resting on, using the position to push herself forwards and see them clearly:

The two moons were full, she saw. The larger of the two—grey and glowing—always filled her with a strange sense of loneliness. But the smaller one… that creeped her out to no end. It was a tiny red ball when compared to her brother, but it dominated the night sky, its fleshy surface failing to reflect the light of the sun as her brother had done. The Blood Moon, she thought, staring with both fascination and fear. It rotated around its neighbor so fast that it could jump from the back of the grey moon to its front in a single night, almost like it was alive. But then again it didn’t surprise the little girl. It was alive after all. Her mother had told her so.

Studying the alien body didn’t just make her scared—a normal response—but it also made her curious. Curious of the world outside the forest she’d been living in for years. Curious of the people who inhabited. Curious of the creatures, and curious… of the moon-men. Her mother told her story after story about all of them, about how they fought, cooperated, and lived together after the Blood Moon came from the deep black that she called “space”. She wanted to see each one with her own eyes: the cappellas, people with hooves, horns, and rectangle eyes; the tousks, giant people with bone crowns, tusks for noses, and solid green eyes; the avilops, with their colorful skin, scales on their hands and feet, and the wings that let them fly; the hiddunsons, beautiful people with rock-colored skin, pointed ears that stuck out the top of their head like a dogs (whatever they were), long and slender tails with hearts on the ends (if they were female), and four eyes that sat beside their special noses; the doggs, an unfortunate looking species with four legs, strange hands, and complete lack of a head (one of the species inhabiting the world that she most wanted to see); the rare slikes that she never even got a good description of; the horrible deffs, bug-like things with no sense of anything but their queen and her success (at least as Locine claimed); and other emps like herself… There were more, but those were the ones she really wanted to meet.

But above all, she wanted to see the moon-men. The moment I leave this place I’m gonna hunt them down, she swore to herself. They were the only reason she was stuck in the forest, never meeting anyone new, or seeing anything unique. Locine had made that very clear. She looked at the Blood Moon and stuck out her tongue. One day… when I’m an adult. I’ll hunt them and make it safe for everyone. No one will have to hide then.

And among the worst was the Black King, the Ruler of Everything. He was the monster Locine warned her about, the one who interrupted almost every epic and gave it an unhappy ending, and the one that practically imprisoned her to this forest… Black eyes, her mother warned. Plum, if you ever meet a man with olive skin and black eyes: hide or run. And then her mother showed her daughter a gruesome scar trailing all across her back.

He did that? Plum remembered asking.

Locine shook her head. No. If he were there, I wouldn’t be here. No, it was his spawn. And like him, she had black eyes… That's what all those Guerrieros have. Black eyes with whites surrounding them… Promise me, Plum, that you’ll run away.

So she promised.

Plum looked towards home after replaying the scene in her mind. Were they worried about her? Probably. Did she care? No. Should she start heading back? Also probably. She may not have cared if Cammo had worried, but Locine… With that, she decided to head back.

She started climbing back down, a process that was always ten times easier than climbing up, and reached the cool grass feeling refreshed. Even if she couldn’t escape her nightmare, sleeping out alone and among the trees made her feel like something lifted from her shoulders. I’ll come back here, she thought, grinning at the tree in thanks. She turned towards home and started walking, feeling the night breeze caress her cheeks in only the way the night could. It had been a good night. The sky was cloudless and cool, and the critters and bugs of the forest chittered and chirped a melody that calmed her mind.

But her peaceful hike was interrupted by an ominous light that spread across everything—it was the color red. The ground, the bark of the trees, the rocks, and the leaves started to almost glow, throwing the parts that weren’t touched by the bloody color in a stark contrast. In an instant her entire world either became a dull red or the black of space. An icy knife stabbed her in the back because she knew exactly what that color meant: The Blood Moon opened.

Turning so quickly that she almost tripped, she saw it floating high: the celestial body positioned itself in the middle of its brother, a long slit widening from the top to the bottom, revealing the absolutely evil eye that hid beneath. It covered the entirety of its surface, the vertical iris shone red, only stopped by the whites that surrounded it. It’s looking at me, Plum thought for a moment, frozen. And her heart stopped. Reality saved her. It’s not looking at me, she told herself. The worlds a big place, Plum. It is NOT looking at you. But the sense of danger persisted. I have to get home. Now. She turned back to the mix of red and black her once colorful forest turned into and ran for home.

The moon-men were coming.

6

The glow creeping in Locine’s window woke her up, and when she realized what was happening, she forgot her illness. She got up, ignoring her weak lungs and ran up and down the stairs of their home, scanning each floor for Plum or Cammo—but found none of them. She sprinted up the stairs still ignoring the pleas for her injured body to stop and grabbed her sword—a rusted dull thing that was better than nothing—and a small cloth bag that fit in the palm of her hand. She ran out the house and quickly glanced over the crops for her family, but they weren’t there either. The forest was a mess of black and red.

“Plum!” she screamed; her was voice hoarse from the coughing. “Cammo!”

She stared up at the sky and saw the giant eye close, taking the light with it, and the forest returned to normal. The browns were brown, the greens were green, and every other color matched itself. If any moon-men were coming, then, they’re here now, she knew. She also knew that the “secret” place Plum seemed to love wasn’t that far off. Cammo could watch himself fine.

Locine broke into a light jog still carrying the sword, hoping that she’d make it in time.

7

Cammo was sitting down upon the corpse of his prey, staring up at the moons in silence, making plans as he promised. The jer he sat on made a comfortable enough seat with its green fur and still warm body—as long as he ignored the fact that he twisted its head one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. In any case, he considered the spot the perfect place to sit and ponder. If Locine… When she dies… he started to think. We’ll need to leave. This land is not for emps. This land is for the animals of its forest and them alone.

But before his mind could delve into specifics, the red glow of the moon covered all. Half a year ahead of schedule, the evil eye of the Blood Moon opened.

There was no time to wonder how his calculations could be so wrong—even after his double, triple, and quadruple checks—because his family was in mortal danger. Cammo got up, pushed his long hair behind his ear, took leather out of his pocket, and put it over his face.

8

The eye closing was nothing to Plum as the damage had already been done; moon-men were about, somewhere out in the woods, and if they caught her… Every twig that snapped, every echo of a call, every vague silhouette, and every shift in the wind sent shivers scraping against her spine. All of it was enough to make her creep along, careful not to make a noise that anything stalking the forest could hear. She slapped both of her chubby cheeks, feeling the sting steady her nerves. “I am NOT scared,” she said aloud, forcing an expression of bravery. “Not a bit…”

“That’s good!” a feminine and familiar voice called.

Plum looked up to see Locine jogging towards her. “Mama!”

Locine stopped and knelt down, gripping her daughter tight as Plum ran into her arms. “Oh, I was so scared… Plum… I was so, so scared…”

“It’s fine, though, right?” Plum said, pulling away and smiling. “You’re here now, after all!”

Locine pressed her finger against Plum’s lips, closing them. “Keep it down. I’m not as powerful as I once was… We need your father, understand?”

Plum nodded quietly, but she didn’t believe it. “I understand.”

“Then let's go,” she said, gripping Plum’s hand and pulling her along. “They have to be out of the dirt by now… Keep an eye ou—”

The sound of stomping stopped another word coming out of her mouth, and her pale skin grew paler. Nothing in the forest made such a noise; not even them. Plum knew immediately what it was, darting her head in its direction: A moon-man.

“Run,” said Locine.

She could handle it, Plum thought. Her mother was sick, not dead, so she found herself asking, “What?”

But Locine’s will was absolute. “I said to run.” Plum opened her mouth to protest but Locine was quicker, slapping her hard across the cheek. “Run. Do not make me repeat myself. Do. Not.”

Plum could only rub her cheek. Her mother never hit her—never. Neither of her parents ever had. And the craziest part was that there was no hesitance in her mother’s movements, no remorse; just the resolve of a woman who was doing what had to be done. Locine grabbed two seeds out the small pouch in her hand and put them under her tongue, never looking away from the noise of hard footfalls and tired groaning. All it took to send Plum running was the smallest of glance back in her direction. Plum left her alone then with no problem, only perking her ears to hear her mother yell:

“I’m right here!”

The thumping quickened in reply and neared fast.

9

Plum hadn’t run far—mostly because Locine hadn’t turned to check—and she felt comfortable in the bushes nearby, only twenty feet behind them. She’ll be okay, Plum thought to herself. The fear from her solitude had melted away the moment her mother came on the scene, and Plum knew deep in her heart that her mother would be fine.

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Then she saw it: the moon-man stood on two legs, like them, and stepped forwards out of the brush. “Woah!” she whispered involuntarily, covering her big mouth with both hands right after. He’s a giant!

He—she could see it was a “he” by the dangling bits around his groin—was eight feet tall and muscled like a beast. And like a beast, the thing was covered in wiry black fur that stretched from head to toe, only growing thin on the soles of the feet, the palms of the hands, and the entirety of its face. His solid yellow eyes were glowing as he stared unblinking, and his nose—a strange big thing that separated and pointed up in opposite directions like the trunks of jers—flared as he studied her. But if these were the only differences between emps and… whatever it was, it wouldn’t have been so bad. That wasn’t the case, however, because its massive head seemed to connect to its torso without a neck. It looked like a simple hump above the shoulders, a simple hump with a mouth that stretched wide to either side of its head, a mouth with jagged teeth that she could spot from under the leaves whenever it opened its thin lips. And it had the mark of the moon, an unmistakable thing: a jagged red “X” stuck to his chest, fur, and skin, wrapping around its torso and to its back to complete the symbol. He was a moon-man from deep in space, alive and well despite the mud that had begun to dry to his fur.

“You!” Locine said, bringing strength to her voice that Plum had not heard in months. Plum hoped it was no act. “Before this comes to violence, state your name! State your name!”

Rage came to his face faster than Plum would have liked, but that was okay as long as the creature stayed far. “I,” he began, his husky, deep voice rattling both of their bones, “am Boon!” Boon threw his hands up in introduction. “I am a brigand of the starship, Star Swallower, and I will not be treated with disrespect, especially by some puny cunt like you! You will answer my questions with speed and accuracy!”

Plum didn’t like his voice at all, but upon a close hearing, she could hear the fear in it. Of course he’s scared, she thought, ignoring the difference in size between her mother and him. I’d be… not scared, but surprised if I woke up in a strange place like this… The Blood Moon didn’t educate the moon-men when it brought them to their new home, so most spent their first moments on their new world in scared, dazed ignorance—a dangerous combination for all involved. Plum didn’t know what a “starship” was, but she knew brigands.

Locine tried to keep it peaceful. “Boon. My name is Locine Noowurl, and I’ll keep the explanation brief—”

The monster lunged at her!

“Fucking—!” Locine said, “FOOL!”

A yellow aura exploded out of the woman, lighting up her body the same time a smile lit up her daughter's face and Plum stifled a giddy squeal, excited to the brink. Locine threw her foot up and smashed the heel into Boon’s stomach, forcing a pained exhale out of the giant beast as well as his pause, before kicking off him into a backflip. She landed almost ten feet away, so fast that neither Plum nor the beast could track her. Locine straightened herself out and spit the seeds like bullets, launching them right next to Boon. He looked up at her and growled, but the confusion on his face was obvious. Plum bet that he never expected such a small woman to pack such a punch, and it was all thanks to her Glow.

It both enveloped and hung behind Locine at the same time, its color thicker around the edges of her body as it overlapped with itself, in a constant flow around her. The yellow was not powerful enough to overwhelm the white of her gown, the color of her skin, and the red of hair, but it was evident enough that it had power. Two inches of the strange energy clung to her body on every side, extending her silhouette. “Listen well!” Locine commanded, staring at her attacker and pointing the sword at his face. “I am a wizard! If you thought that just because I was smaller than you that I’d fall easy, then think again! This is my Glow! It is my well of strength, my speed, my accuracy, and my agility! I was willing to resolve this peacefully… but you’ve forced my hand, moon-man. Don’t beg for mercy. Grow Moan!”

At her command the seeds she spit grew with what was only a supernatural speed, becoming two toothed plants that bit into Boon the moment they could! They wrapped around their prey, intertwining their bodies with his, stopping any form of retaliation that might’ve come their way… and began to suck.

“You bug!” Boon screamed. “Disgusting worm! I’ll tear out your—!”

She tossed a large stone at his forehead which bounced off with a crack. “You’ll tear out my what?” She threw another, this time putting all of her strength into it. The rock drew blood and his silence. “You could’ve died knowing more than you do now! But you didn’t have the patience, did you?” She gripped her chest and stopped speaking.

Plum worried for her again, seeing plain in Locine’s face that she was resisting the urge to cough.

But her mother continued on: “No, you didn’t have the patience to suffer even a word from me. It would have saved your life… But I will leave you with this.” She stuck the sword’s tip into the grass and leaned on it, pointing her right hand at the creature in disrespect. “I got those seeds from a crater. Those are blood-rapers, known for wrapping around and squeezing every last drop of the stuff out of prey until your their nothing but a husk. So… anything more you have to say, Boon, brigand of the Sword Swallower starship?”

“I am a soldier!” he said, writhing under the plant. “And a lesser life-form like you…!” He grunted, straining his body free itself. “You…!”

Plum wasn’t scared he’d break free. Her mother wouldn’t bind in him something he could easily break out of, even if his strength was unbelievable. She guessed that nothing short of sharp blades would free him at that point.

But then the vines tore. “INSECT!”

With one final yell of rage, the beast freed himself. Plum’s feeling of victory fled, and it took herself a moment to realize why. The vines hadn’t “tore” like she first thought—they were cut. And to realize why they’d been cut, she needed to remember that moon-men all had their gifts. Boon’s gift was the claw-like knives that stuck out his body and hands, the ones that saved him from a slow and terrible death. This is bad, Plum thought to herself. But she clung to the hope her mother had another plan up her sleeve.

10

This is bad, Locine thought, watching the monster rise and stare at himself in utter disbelief. That attack… my spell… it was all I had… She was too weak to make love, even when Cammo had been gentle. How could she expect herself to fight? For Plum. Not to win, but to buy time. Cammo is on his way.

And with that, the veneer of strength fell, and the light that surrounded her with it. Locine coughed, dotting her white gown with blood as she collapsed onto her knees. Boon turned his malicious attention towards her and stomped closer, taunting her with the time he took, apparently no longer worried.

“Know this,” Boon began. His massive hand wrapped around her stomach as he raised the woman to his head. “It is an honor to be killed by me or any of my kind. An honor you don’t deserve. Now, give me that explanation as to why I’m on this rock or I’ll split you in half using just the length and girth of my cock. It will be slow, and I’m guessing, the worst pain you’ve experienced in the entirety of your pointless existence. Talk, and the dying will be quick.”

The monster’s hand almost closed around her entire waist, and she could feel the ungodly pressure squeeze her guts—she knew she was going to die. I was going to die anyways, her mind stated. And I’ve done what I’ve had to do. Plum’s long gone by now… I won’t die a coward.

She spit in his eye. He barely flinched, only wiping away the liquid with growing annoyance. “Then we’ll do it my way.”

There was a terrible moment of silence as his yellow eyes glided over her, when the sound of tiny feet on live grass came into her ear. That was when she turned to see Plum emerge from the woods behind her. “Let her go!” Plum said, a brave face on.

Locine didn’t want her to be brave. She wanted her to be a coward. She wanted Plum to leave her behind. But she didn’t. Locine stopped being brave.

“She seems smart enough…” Boon muttered. “She’ll do.”

“What?” her mother asked, looking back at the moon-man, terrified.

Boon flung the woman hard into a nearby tree, his face blank as if it was something he’d done a hundred times before.

She felt something snap in her back as she flattened against the trunk and fell to the grass! “AHA! Guh… Plum… Plum!”

Her daughter couldn’t move; she could only stare at her as if what she was seeing wasn’t real…

“Go! Go!” Locine coughed. It felt like something in her burst, and she couldn’t move her back, any attempt resulting in fiery pain to spread all about her body.

“You,” Boon said, looking down at the Plum. She looked up at him and began to shake. Whether she was too scared to flee or too shocked, Locine hoped she would snap out of it soon. “Don’t run. I’ll deal with you in a moment…” He had flung the woman hard but not far, making it to her in just a couple steps. “What else can I do? Speak quickly.”

“You… can…” Locine found it hard to breathe, and speak, and do anything that might guarantee Plum a chance; so she begged. “I… don’t know… Please… Have mercy… She’s only a child… Please, I submit! I submit!”

“Have you run out of bravery now?” Boon asked, holding the slightest grin. “Don’t tell me it’s because the little one appeared.” He looked over and saw along with Locine that Plum had wet herself, a long, dark stain appearing on the front of her dress as piss snaked down her shivering legs. “Heh heh heh!” He turned back to her mother. “I am many things…” The claw-like things grew out of his palm as he bent down and raised her, stabbing the woman as she howled in pain. “But merciful is not one of them.” The knives were long, some of them reaching six inches, and Locine could feel every one bring her closer and closer to death. “You won’t void your bowels, correct? You seem like such a sweet thing…”

The last thing Locine saw was his jaw unhinge and hundreds of jagged teeth as her head was pushed inside.

11

And he bit her head off. Plum stopped breathing when she saw Locine’s limbs fall limp to her sides, blood pouring out of the stump and onto her gown, painting her chest and stomach a black red.

“MAMAAAAAA!” she shrieked, bursting into tears and incoherent sobs. “NOOOOO! MAMA!”

Boon peeled off the gown and ate the rest in three, terrible, noisy bites. “Hmm… Sour… Not very sweet… Not savory either… But not bad! Yes, I think I like whatever this is… Little one! What do you call creatures like yourself? You taste good.” Red ran down his chest from the wide slit of his mouth, and all his teeth were stained. “Well? Do you feel like answering my questions?”

“PAPA! PAPA! HELP!” Plum scrambled into the woods, tripped and screamed, and stared back terrified as she ran off shouting pleas. “PAPA! PAPAAA!”

“Ten! Nine!”

He’s counting down!

“Eight! Seven! Six! Five!”

“HEEEELP! PLEASE!”

“Four! Three! Two!”

His voice felt like it was right behind her and she whimpered as she ran.

“One!” Boon finished. “Hope to whatever gods you pray to that you’ll run faster than that, girl! Because I run much faster! Ready or not, here I come!”

12

Vincenzo had pulled the rest of himself out of the mud minutes ago and was laying on his back, taking in all the air he could take and breathing it all out seconds later, both eyes pointed to the sky.

“Oh!” he mumbled, looking up at the two moons, fear in his voice. “What…? Huh…? What the…? Fuck… Fucking shit… Motherfucking piece of shit… What the motherfucking shit…?”

All he could do was spout profanity as he wondered just what the hell was going on. That was when the Father’s warning came to mind: I’m in the Fourth Place. It didn’t look like heaven, hell, or purgatory… And all that left was wherever he was, panting in the dark. One moon was big and grey, the other small and red. Two moons, just floating there as if there was nothing wrong with that.

“Where am I?” he asked, calmer that time. “Marco… Marco, are you watching me?” The night was silent. “Where am I now, Marco? Where am I now?”

“PAPA!” someone yelled.

He shot up, shutting his mouth.

It wasn’t the voice of someone in peace. It was the voice of someone in trouble, bad trouble… It was a kid’s voice. It was desperate, too. It was a desperate, harsh, sad, and terrified cry that echoed throughout the once quiet woods like sirens through a street.

Despite the fact that whoever was screaming had done it in a completely different language, Vincenzo understood it. He understood it so well that he knew how to speak the entire language after one word… Another layer of confusion, he complained, but not something he needed to worry about at the moment. The worry came from what they were saying:

“HEEEELP! HELP ME! PAPAAA!” she screamed, and he could now tell it was a her.

He looked towards the sound and got up. It wasn’t heaven. It wasn’t hell. It wasn’t purgatory. It was something else.

13

Boon loved the hunt.

“SAVE ME!” the girl cried, still bawling. She seemed to see well in the dark, better than most animals, but the tears clouded her vision to the point that she could barely see in front of her, and she could barely dodge the obstacles in front of her. “PAPA!”

Boon’s long legs meant that the beast barely needed to jog to catch up to the child, only slowing to squeeze through the tightly knit shrubbery and trees, cutting them down with his “gift” whenever they got too thick. A little smile rose from the corner of his thin lips. Even if his prey was a little one he could still feel dopamine spread throughout his mind, and he contemplated doing the same thing to her as he promised he would do to the mother… It was that kind of night for him and he thought that he could use the break, especially after dying and all. He could find the answers as to why he still lived after the treat. He needed to level himself out.

“Small legs,” Boon teased, gaining on her without much effort. “Not great for running… You’re calling for your father, correct? Heh heh heh! Yes, bring him along! I’m sure he’ll succeed where your mother failed! Heh heh heh!”

She tripped on nothing, falling face first into the grass and biting her tongue. “Owwie!” she yelped, sucking on the wound. Boon caught up and stopped, standing over her with what was now a toothy grin. She threw her hands up, aiming the palm towards him. “Glath Houthes!”

A square barrier of translucent, rippling, glowing blue energy appeared out of nothing, separating the two. Boon looked at it curiously. He wondered what manner of technology she was using for such a thing… He’d seen his fair share of energy barriers before, but he couldn’t see a single emitter on the creature. Mutations? That would explain his own strange ability… In any case, the floating wall didn’t seem thick at all. Boon laughed. “A little thing like this? You think this’ll protect you? Heh heh heh heh heh!” He held the back of his fist over the shield and flicked it down—barely adding any of his strength—and ended up shattering it! The girl put her hands over her eyes but still peeked through the gaps, looking more than distraught. The little glass-like shards faded into nothingness. “You’re a funny thing, I see. Thinking a little thing like that would protect you…” Another claw-knife wrapped around his right index finger, stopping an inch farther where his normal finger would’ve normally ended. He knelt down, watching her body quiver. “Why’d you stop running? I was actually starting to feel the chase… How about this?” He slid the sharp finger down her thigh starting from the hip, pushing the tip in about an inch. She screamed and clutched the bleeding wound, still calling out for a savior. “Not yet?” Boon asked, but he wasn’t even quite sure if she heard. The screaming was nice on his internal ears, though. He hadn’t heard a screech like this in a long time. “I’m enjoying myself,” he told her. “And I’m not bored yet, so entertain me some more.” The knife on his hand retracted and he positioned his finger next to her face, holding it in the flicking position. “How about this?” He flicked her in the cheek—a simple flick, nothing special—and her head bounced back like it’d been a punch. “This?” He flicked her eye, and predictably, her bloody hands went to it. “This?” He flicked her stomach and she curled forward, clutching it. All she could do was wail, becoming hysterical.

“Sabe meh…” she wailed. “Pleab… sabe…”

“Hmm…” Boon said. He had gone too far, and now he doubted he could even get information out of her. “That’s that, I suppose.” He picked her up with his left hand. “That meat under the hip is stained,” he muttered aloud. “Here should be fine.” He peeled off a chunk of her shoulder and popped it in his mouth, producing even more delectable terror as the taste spread within his mouth. “Wow! Splendid, just splendid… Heh heh heh! I think I’m going to enjoy my time on this planet.”

When the girl realized what was about to happen, she tried to scream, but her voice was so hoarse that it came out broken and small, but she kept screaming anyways, flailing in his hand as he guided the little thing closer to his open maw…

14

Vincenzo launched his shin as hard as he could right up the thing’s exposed balls, and knew that was the most perfect kick in the nuts he’d ever done, every ounce of force concentrated solely on its weakest area.

The furry thing wailed, one of anger and agony that was music to Vincenzo’s ears. The beast dropped the girl and fell to its knees, squeezing its privates to quell the pain as it let out labored groans, tears dampening the fur under bulging yellow eyes.

Vincenzo raised the rusty sword—more like a dagger in his hands, and found lying on the bloody grass—and got ready to stab it in the beast’s back, before realizing it was impossible. Claw-like knives grew out of its back and interlocked, forming a sharp armor that he couldn’t find an opening to.

“Damn…” he muttered, and looked towards the girl. She wasn’t human, but he could still tell she was just a little girl—maybe six, he guessed. But even then, she was small, only two feet and six inches from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head. On that head was pink hair that didn’t look dyed, braided and long to the point it reached her waist. Her skin wasn’t white, or brown, or black, or somewhere in the middle of any of those, but purple; a light purple that matched lavender. Her ears were long, thin, and arched to a point behind her head. And her eyes were twice the size of his or any other humans, and both glossy reds that spread from one corner to the next. He could see no whites, no iris, and no pupils, just a solid ruby-shade throughout. Other than that, she was similar enough. Her nose was a button, her lips were normal, her hands and feet had five digits each, and proportionally, she was completely human-like—which made the other aspects twelve times stranger in comparison.

She was silent, and while her eyes were red all over, he could tell she was staring at him. “Noooo…” she whispered, scared at the look of him. For once in his life, Vincenzo wasn’t proud of his scary face, and he wasn’t proud of the face he was making: it was one of burning rage. One look at her cut shoulder, the shut eye starting to swell and darken into a darker purple and blue, the bruises on her face, the deep cut along her thigh, and the urine and blood staining her dress filled him with the same emotion Marco’s death had brought. No, it was even stronger, even more intense. He felt an unquenchable thirst for blood, and it showed. “No… No…” she kept on whispering.

Vincenzo glanced at the monster for just a second and found it gasping for air. He’s busy. I gotta get her out of here, he thought. He ran around it and grabbed her, using the break to place her on the grass about twenty feet away. He knelt down at her level. “Hey, hey, hey,” he started. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? Come on, you just need to get up. Can you walk?”

She didn’t reply. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if the girl was hearing him, even though he was literally speaking her language.

She looked lost and sad and confused and in denial of it all—and half crazy. He glanced at the beast again, glad his kick to the nuts managed to do so much damage. It was still gasping, still rubbing its nuts, still trying to soothe the pain. He turned back and grabbed the least injured parts of her cheeks and did the only thing that came to mind: something stupid and pointless. He pulled them apart and pushed them in, doing it so fast that it produced a plip-plop-plip-plop-plip-plop sound, and succeeded in confusing her. At least she was just puzzled now, he thought, and tried to give her a reassuring grin. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

She didn’t reply

“Come on,” he prodded, still keeping his voice low and a smile on. “I need an answer.”

She felt her leg and winced at the pain, her one eye wide and the other almost shut from the swelling of flesh. She nodded.

“Good, good, good,” Vincenzo said, smiling wide. That made things much simpler. “Then you should leave. Now.”

“What?” she asked. From the way the small words left her mouth it was obvious she was still scared as shit, and mistrustful of him.

He lifted her up from her armpits and placed her gently on her feet. “Exactly what I said.” His grin faded as he checked behind him, and after the check he looked back at her with a grave face. “Now! Before it’s okay. I hit it hard, but not that hard. And when it’s okay, it is not going to be happy. In fact, it’s going to be pissed as hell. Merda, he’s probably going to want to rip my head off… And yours too if you stay. So go. Go!”

The little girl that wasn’t human looked at him with both surprise and confusion, but not fear or distrust. “But… why?”

She understood, he saw. That meant he didn’t need to hold himself back. “Go!” he yelled, letting anger take hold. His face was grave and angry, then. “NOW! I’ll hold him off!”

She flinched at his raised voice, and he thought it’d be fear that returned—but it wasn’t. What came to her expression was awe. “I’ll send help.” She backed away. “I’ll send you help, I swear.” With a turn she was off. “Thank you!”

Thank fuck… he thought, relieved beyond belief. Now… The beast was upright with focused yellow eyes and a red froth running out of its jaws, the foam slipping out and slipping back in as it breathed. Just as Vincenzo thought, it was pissed. Who’s gonna save me now?

“I am Boon,” the beast calmly began. “And you… you… I am going to eat out your heart and use your tongue to wipe my ass after I’m done.”

“Well… don’t,” Vincenzo said. It loomed over him, hate in its eyes. “Wow… you’re tall. What, what are you exactly?”

“You’ll never know,” Boon said.

A nervous chuckle escaped him. “I can see that happening… But I can also see my knee in your balls. You sure you want that again?”

“You won’t have the chance.”

15

The alien—that’s all it could be—was more menacing than even Igor, that emotionless bastard, and meaner too. That girl wasn’t human, Vincenzo thought idly, almost forgetting the battle for his life. But she’s not like this guy… whatever he is. So, fuck it. If I gotta die again, I’m more than fine with that. Just like his skirmish with Pasha, he got into position with the knife (sword), spacing his legs and crouching with the thing in hand. Boon didn’t look impressed; he stood up straight, calm and collected, the look of rage and hate on his face turning passive. His furry arm sprung out faster than Vincenzo could react to, grabbing the rusty blade with knives of his own! Vincenzo pulled on it before letting it go and stepping back, going from armed to unarmed in less than three seconds. Boon only stood in place, staring at the human before crushing the rusted iron within his hands, and tossing away the shards. He started towards him again.

Well, I guess this is it… again… Vincenzo thought, staying low and still as if he had a chance. Surviving wasn’t an option. Whatever he was, the alien was too big and too strong to lose in a straight fight. And while he could run, he guessed the alien’s long legs would catch up right away. I bought time, I guess. Like thirty seconds maybe, with my talking, but thirty seconds is a lot of time… I guess.

Boon came within three feet, yellow eyes showing hell, and grabbed Vincenzo’s right shoulder with his left hand and punched through his chest with the right, knives making his huge fist push past the flesh all the easier! Vincenzo coughed out blood, gripping on his murderer’s forearm, his black eyes wide. He was dying again.

“A coward's attack usually comes from a coward.” He threw the human behind him, holding the soft red bit of muscle that looked to be a heart. He popped it in. “Not good at all. Stringy and bitter. Not good one—”

Before the alien could repeat itself, a mud-stained knee smashed into his battered balls! Boon fell to his knees, this time looking over at the source with fear and confusion. It was the human, and he looked fine—stained by his own blood… but fine. Vincenzo didn’t understand it much either, but the hole… it just filled itself, and he was still alive. “How’d that feel, huh?” he said. “I hope you really felt it that ti—”

Boon put all his force into a closed-fist backhand, cracking Vincenzo right in the jaw. He flew back, feeling and hearing the break of his bones, feeling and seeing the teeth that flew out, feeling and hearing new ones shoot out the gums and his jaw reform. And half a second later he was okay. The alien put all his force into that swing, and he was okay.

“This changes nothing,” Boon said, forcing himself back up. “Whatever trick you’ve used, it won’t matter. I’m still superio—”

Vincenzo let out a guttural scream and jumped at him, launching a fist of his own in what might’ve been Boon’s jaw. If there wasn’t his body to worry about, what was there? Claw-knives greeted the next blow that would have been at his stomach and locked it there; it hurt like bitch… but it was nothing compared to how he really died.

“Let’s see you come back from this, freak!” Boon yelled, grabbing his forearm with sharp hands and ripping it apart like paper.

Vincenzo staggered back, screaming in pain as he grabbed the stump, falling to one knee, when he saw it come back. He held it out and studied the process, breathing heavy with surprise on his mean face: first, the wound sealed itself and skin covered it, like an amputee after a few years of healing; second, it just grew, the stump extending until it reached his palm, where it branched out, giving him half-fingers before full ones; and last, his nails shot out. And the kicker? The whole process went down in about four seconds. The pain was gone and he had his arm back. It was the same thing that happened with his chest. Vincenzo felt the middle of the “X” tattoo on his torso and felt a thump thump, thump thump. “Looks like I got it back,” he said, a nervous smile on his bloody lips. “You still feeling that kick I gave you?” He held up his arm, free of scars. It was literally as good as new. “Because I’m not still feeling this.”

Whether it was the second kick or the remark or the fact he dared to live, Boon was livid. “You believe you’re funny, correct? We’ll find out how funny you feel after I’m done with you.”

“I know my way around a joke,” Vincenzo said. Now I bought a minute and a half… And I’m thinking I’m going to buy a lot more. Help might come, after all. “And next I’m taking an eye.”

16

“Plum?! Locine?!” Cammo screamed into the night. “Anybody?!”

Fear had gripped him tight and it showed in every call. The bad thoughts came, creeping into his heart whenever the echo of his own voice came back to taunt him. The forest was peaceful no longer. What if they’re dead? And if they’re dead, then it’s your fault. You just had to go off alone, far, and do what? Think? You fool, you got them killed. You miserable waste of life. The only thing you’ve done that you’re proud of and you still manage to fail.

“Plum?! Locine?! Someone, please answer me?!” he called again. He pulled his mask up and stopped, looking around the dark of the night, and slid it back down. It clung tight to his skin, white circles surrounding his eyes as black surrounded them. And a dark green Glow surrounded him at a thickness almost four and a half inches.

“Papa?!” a small voice called from his left.

He turned over to it, seeing his daughter limp out of the brush. “Plum?”

“Papa?!” she said again, stopping when she saw him. Relief came to her black and bruised and bloody face along with fresh tears. “Papa…!” She held out her arms and ran to him.

The twenty feet between them shortened to nothing as he reached her in one powerful stride, gripping her tight before pulling her away and studying her injuries. “Who did this to you?” He’d destroy them. “And where’s Locine?”

“Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-she’s—” Plum tried to say, but her throat had closed up too much and she had begun to blubber instead.

“She’s what, Plum? She’s what?” Cammo said, giving her good shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Plum couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, so she faced the ground, tears running down her nose to the tip and falling onto the cool grass below, shaking her head.

The voices in his head were half true—not fully. Still, the news hit him hard; not that he showed it. His stony expression kept true as he nodded, knowing that her naked and sad on their bed was the last time they’d ever know each other's company. “Plum,” he said, his eyes colder and his voice even more so, “who did it? Tell me.”

She couldn’t answer. She was still hiccupping from the grief, barely able to breathe at all. He didn’t rush her. Whatever she saw, whatever she felt, it was enough to break her spirit. You didn’t rush someone with a wound on the soul. “Pa-Pa-Papa,” she managed to say. “You gotta save him. Please!”

Cammo hadn’t expected that. But then again, he had no idea what to expect. “Save who, Plum? Someone saved you?”

“A… a Guerriero,” she said.

His face was carving in a rock, but he hadn’t expected that—not in a million years. Maybe she was in shock? Perhaps she just imagined the sight of one coming to aid her.

But if she was, she gave no sign. “Please, he saved me! I-I-I-I-I’d be dead too… If it wasn’t for him… You have to save him! He’ll die if you don’t! He can’t die, papa, please! Don’t let him die!” She squeezed his red shirt with small hands and looked up at him with begging eyes. “I promised him I’d send help…”

She saw what she saw. “Okay,” said Cammo, still calm. “How many were there?”

“I-It was just him… and the other one…” She wiped away boogers and wiped them on her dress. “Two…”

“Okay… From where you came from, right? A straight line?”

She nodded again.

“Okay,” he said. “Hide here. I’ll be right back.”

17

Vincenzo dug his middle finger deep in Boon’s left eye, clinging to the beast from behind and wrapping his free arm around what he wanted to be a neck. Boon screamed in absolute rage, grabbing the human by the ankle and pulling him off, letting the claw-knives explode out of his back and pierce Vincenzo’s flesh as he dragged him off. Boon grabbed Vincenzo’s ankle with his other hand and whipped him right into a tree, and whipped him into another, and another, and another—until the knives he used to grip his leg cut it off, letting the man fly a couple of feet into safety. Using the moment of quiet, the beast brought his furry hands up to his destroyed eye and fell to one knee, panting hard. And to his dismay, the man got back up, seemingly unscathed. He was using the distance between them as a rest, sitting up and panting heavily himself, sweat beading down his naked body as he let the grass brush against his thighs.

“Suck my dick, asshole. Just suck my fucking dick…” he said, hand on his shaven head. “That hurt like a motherfucker, you cunt. Jesus…” His limbs could grow back, broken bones could become unbroken, and skin that tore could untear—but that didn’t mean none of it was painless. In fact, it was one of the most painful experiences of his entire life. Vincenzo got up and almost fell again, leaning on a nearby tree for support. What the hell? he asked himself, blankly staring at his legs. They’re fine, not a scratch on them… He didn’t even scar. Why can’t I move? Exhaustion of some kind hit him hard. He could breathe fine, he didn’t feel sick, and he didn’t feel sore—just lightheaded. He felt lightheaded and tired and heavy. It was enough to knock him off his feet if he wasn’t careful. Boon ain’t looking too hot either…

The moment the thought entered his brain the beast rose, his one eye glowing in the dark… really glowing.

Vincenzo’s mind was more than jumbled at that point, so he nonchalantly asked: “What’s up with your eye? The good one, I mean?”

A beam of red light shot out of it, surprising them both, and blew off Vincenzo’s right arm! It was like he was burning again. All he could do was open his mouth and stare at the smoldering stump in a long silent scream, unable to take air in. And it wasn't growing back. Whether it was the weird lightheadedness or the fact that it was a burn—something that, deep down, he knew fucked with him—it wouldn’t grow back.

Boon was done with conversation and shot the other arm off, almost like it was something he’d done a hundred times prior. The next shot took off his legs at the knees, leaving him completely without limbs. Vincenzo’s head collided with the dirt and he knew nothing more…

18

“Finally,” Boon muttered, feeling lightheaded himself. He staggered over to the young man. “Your tactics may have been cowardly, but you fought well. Consider dying by my doing an honor and carry that into the next life…” He raised his massive leg and got ready to smash in his chest. “Goodbye, stranger…” Out of the soles of his foot grew knifes. “It hasn’t been a pleasure.”

Something shot right into his ribs, sending him flying into another hard trunk before his foot could fall. The beast grabbed at chest and instantly knew that more of a few ribs were broken, before looking up at who was responsible. It was another native, glowing a different color than the other woman, wearing a strange mask. His arms looked gray and cracked, like stone. Boon, remembering the feeling of the man colliding with his ribs, knew that they were stone.

“You’ll regret that…” Boon said, his good eye glowing.

The laser came fast but the man was faster, ducking under the light and closing the distance faster than what Boon thought was possible for such a creature. Then his fist came, hitting the beast right in the nose and smashing it. Boon tried to fire but a fist in his abs interrupted the process, forcing him to vomit. The man who hit stepped back in disgust, sneering at the thing in utter contempt.

How could such a small—and skinny, very skinny—species put so much power in their blows? Boon didn’t know… he only knew that the stranger was trouble.

“What’s that there?” the man asked, pointing at the half-digested gore and red vomit that stained the earth. “Who is that?”

Boon knew and opened his mouth to reply—but the man cut him off, punching a hole through the beast’s mouth and right out the back of his head! Boon watched him with one good eye before shutting it forever.

19

Cammo pulled out his arm and wiped the blood off it with a rag, staring down at the moon-man with a frown. He spit on the back of its head and moved away, towards the Guerriero on the grass.

The area was a mess. There was blood on the trees and the grass, on the stones and leaves. And there were limbs strewn about as well. Arms, legs, hands, feet… Cammo glanced at the Guerriero and saw he was missing all of them. He’s probably dead already, he thought, staring at his burned stumps. But then he noticed something strange: there were too many limbs. He counted them to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks, and found out with some confusion that they weren’t. There were four arms, with three right ones and one left. There were three legs, with two left and one right. And there were two hands not attached to arms and a foot not attached to a leg. This was made even stranger because most of the arms and legs still had their extremities attached. He didn’t bother doing the math, knowing the numbers would never add up. He even saw broken teeth hiding in the dirt. Cammo leaned down by the man and opened his mouth, seeing a full set of teeth over pink gums. The other moon-man had sharp teeth. Did the Guerriero grow them back? Did he grow limbs and teeth only to lose them and grow them back again? And if that was the case… was he still alive?

Cammo poked at him. “Do you live? Can you hear me?”

The moon-man was as solid and stiff as a rock.

Cammo pressed two fingers on the pale neck and felt a thump thump. “Okay,” he said. “I guess so…”

But there was one thing he absolutely needed to check. He turned the moon-man over on his back and frowned at his nakedness before moving onto his face. It was a thuggish face, and he didn’t like it. But it was also young. How young, Cammo had no clue. How old are you? he thought. Twenty? Twenty-five? As much as Cammo wanted to know, he didn’t. His real interest was what laid under the moon-man’s pale eyelids. Cammo removed his mask, folded it, and put it in his pocket. Did Plum really see what she thought she saw?

He decided to find out. Placing a finger and thumb atop his right eye, he pulled the eyelids apart and saw what laid beneath: a black eye. The pupil and iris of which matched completely, melting together to form one black circle in the middle of a lake of white. Every being, no matter the shape, the color (even black as most animals had), or the size had a glint in their eyes. It was life and light. And, cementing his legitimacy of what he was, he had none. The glow of the moons above fell into him and went missing. His eyes were black as sin. An ill omen. Plum saw what she thought he saw. And Cammo couldn’t kill him. Plum lived because of him.

With a groan, Cammo flung the Guerriero over his shoulder and walked off back to Plum, casting one final glance on the Blood Moon and its brother, before moving on into the night…