by Laura Kaighn
“I must be allergic to closets,” he snuffled deeply.
Dori handed him a tissue and laughed while the warrior blew loudly. “The coast is clear, but we better wait a while before taking our walk. I don’t know if Cooper’ll stop to check out the roadway where I found you. It wouldn’t be good for us to bump into each other.” Then noticing his clothing, Dorinda spouted, “You found it.”
“I told you. Vesar have better night vision.”
“One problem, though,” she countered tugging at the camouflaged trousers he now wore. “How did you manage to put these on backward?”
Vesarius seemed confused. He considered his waist for the discrepancy. “I put the lacings up the back. Vesar hunting pants are designed so that their laces do not get in the way of our crossbows.”
Shaking her head, Dorinda brushed her fingers across her mouth. “Well, human hunters use rifles and ammo belts. And their laces go up the front so that it’s easier to-” Sighing she waved him off. “Never mind.” The Vesar seemed eager to correct his mistake for he reached down to tug off his boots. “Wait. Wait, Vesarius. I’ll go in the other room.” Dorinda held out a halting palm and backed away.
“Why?” His hands lingered on his boot, one foot in the air.
Eyebrows jumping into her wavy bangs, Dorinda’s chin bumped her chest. “Because, a strange man doesn’t undress in front of a lady.” She could feel her cheeks glowing.
“My body did not bother you yesterday. Was I not more a stranger then?”
Dorinda rubbed her forehead, eyes closed. How was she going to explain this? “It’s … not proper to undress without permission -”
“But I gave you no permission yesterday to -”
Dorinda splayed her hands to stop him. “Vesarius. Never mind. I’ll be in the kitchen. I have dishes to do.” Quickly she turned to leave. Patting her cheeks, Dori realized modesty certainly wasn’t a Vesar trait. The kitchen would be a cool retreat.
* * *
Perplexed, Vesarius watched Dorinda Tanner disappear through the doorway then sat down on the edge of her bed. He pulled off his leather boots followed by the strangely designed camouflaged pants. In the light from the front bedroom window, Vesarius took the opportunity to check the progress of his leg wound. The swelling had diminished, and his orange-brown complexion was less ochre. Satisfied, the Vesar drew on the pants, this time lacing them up the front.
When he marched into the kitchen, Dorinda must have noticed his progress. “Your limp is better. That’s good.”
Heartened at her cheer, Vesarius felt compelled to return the favor. “You did very well with the sheriff. You avoided a lie.”
Dorinda shrugged in answer. “You heard? Thanks.” Then, she expelled a short laugh and continued washing the dishes in the sink. “I think I was more scared just then than I was yesterday rescuing you.”
From behind her Vesarius smiled. “That is good. You are starting to like me ... Dorinda.”
“What?” Her voice betrayed her uncertainty as she spun on his imposing frame.
Vesarius drew up to her with a crooked grin. “You said it yourself. I make you laugh.”
“Yes, but ...” She stuttered to silence as he stepped closer. Vesarius watched her shoulders curl within his shadow.
“I feel you have not laughed in a long time.” Vesarius decided to push further. Perhaps he could get the truth from her. “You are upset with me because you like me, and that frightens you.”
“I … I’m not afraid.” Dorinda leaned back against the sink.
Noticing her discomfort, Vesarius stopped his advance. The woman was on defense and would only avoid the truth of her seclusion. He smiled soothingly. “Well. I am grateful you did not turn me in.”
Dorinda pivoted away from him, returning to the sink and its contents. “You’re welcome,” she uttered. She doused her hands in the dishwater to complete her task in silence.
Withdrawing from the woman’s icy solitude, Vesarius wandered outside, past the pvana then down to the lake spread out below its fence of young spruce. His passage disturbed a small herd of deer. They vaulted away to meld with the morning. Vesarius breathed their familiar scent and marveled at the other sounds and smells of the Adirondack woods. Birds called for mates, their varying notes like a wind-chiming xylophone. The woods whispered in hushed conversations. The air was like an opening bloom. Below, the lake glistened in the early sunshine, framed in reflective forest.
Various tree species huddled about the lake. And along the northern shore Vesarius could make out the lines of only one other manmade structure, a lean-to of logs and bark shingles. Within the shadowy hollows, the hidden landscape of the Adirondacks was revealed: glacier-deposited boulders overgrown with lichen, moss, and even infiltrating trees. The morning smelled of an emergent promise. Truly a pristine wilderness.
Vesarius recalled Dorinda explaining – not many visitors knew the true history of the region, nor that only pockets of old growth forest remained. Due to early settlers, loggers, and miners, most of the Adirondack Park was in fact second and third growth forest. But, for the moment, this variegated vista seemed an ancient sanctuary, one in which a young woman could seclude herself from prying eyes and an invading civilization.
In the distance, waterfowl exchanged mournful, whistling hoots. Vesarius could discern the low-riding silhouettes of their black-speckled backs. Though the scenery was pleasant, it was not Vesarius’ home. Can I return to mine? Contemplating his immediate future, the Vesar sat down on the sandy beach, just above the waterline, and crossed his legs to meditate.
West, she had said. The Arch gateway lay to the west. If it was open to him, Vesarius could return to his world, his friends. Yet part of him did not want to leave Dorinda. She would once again be alone, isolated. Then it occurred to the warrior why he was conflicted.
Dorinda did not hate him. In many ways she accepted him, was even curious about his people and culture. When whole worlds distrusted the Vesar, this woman acknowledged Vesarius for his individuality, without expectations. She, who had never seen an alien, had without hesitation rescued the warrior from death. Dorinda had welcomed a stranger into her solitude, and was even now helping him return home.
Could it be that Vesarius – having dwelled among his human crewmates – had somehow been tempered by them? Become himself too ‘human’? In the years since his exile, had Vesarius lost his identity, betrayed his heritage as a Vesar warrior?
No. He could have easily killed Dorinda last night. His Vesar Fury had been genuine, but he had controlled it. Vesarius had grown more disciplined than his kin, what Coty called ‘impassioned’. Unlike his brethren, Vesarius had chosen not to kill.
Someone touched his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Vesarius glanced up from the sandy shoreline. “I think it’s safe to leave now,” Dorinda said straightening.
Vesarius rose. The camouflage, button-down shirt settled across his chest, concealing the blood-pulsing crest beneath. It throbbed warmly, sensuously at the sight of her. Even with the hindrance of eyeglasses, the woman was beautiful, Vesarius contended. He watched Dorinda in the golden sunlight.
As she bent to pat Casey on the rump, Dorinda gave one last tuck of her jeans into her heavy-socked hiking boots. Then, standing to her full height of five-nine, she adjusted the plastic water bottle at her hip and withdrew from her denim jacket a silver-bladed object. “Here. You might want this back.”
Vesarius considered the antler-handled survival knife Dorinda presented. He bowed his head in gratitude. “I am indebted to you for your trust, Green Eyes.” He took the weapon from her slender hand. “This is one of my most honored possessions.” Without hesitation, Vesarius slid the knife back into its boot sheath and straightened, ready for the trail.
“This way.” Stoically Dorinda led him out along the lake’s edge unconscious of the Vesar’s dark, tracking gaze. Soon they were treading among the shaded evergreens and dotted maples and birches of the Adirondacks. They steered around the ferns, l
ichen and gray-white rocks strewn along the deer-tracked trail.
Walking behind Dorinda, Vesarius purposely kept his pace even with hers. In his growing eagerness, the Vesar could have easily outdistanced the woman with his longer legs and greater stride. Silent for many minutes, Vesarius was unsure of Dorinda’s mood. So this is what it is like relating to a woman.
Unlike his professional dealings with the female crew of the Pompeii, this was a constant battle to read body language and contradictions. Aboard ship, Vesarius had relied on Coty’s help to translate his crew’s perceptions regarding his social failings.
Now, perhaps Vesarius was mistaken about Dorinda liking him. Perhaps she had only laughed at his foolishness, a savage Vesar attempting to make friends and promote trust. The heat of that sudden ire rushed to the warrior’s face. Vesarius felt his fingernails dig into his palms. He had only been trying to ease her fears, to show Dorinda he could be ... ‘human’.
But he was a Vesar warrior. He was an alien. Why should he deny his heritage so that others would accept him? Vesarius gulped a decisive, sobering breath. Years ago he had chosen his destiny. In the greater scheme of the universe, the Galactic Alliance still suspected the Vesar were a violent, primitive people. But Vesarius was trying ... trying to break the mold ... attempting to calm his millennia-old, Fury-controlled brutality.
Like him, the Vesar were now a civilized people. In joining the Alliance they had chosen not to kill, not to destroy ... His people had decided; peace with the humans and Tloni was the only path to survival. The Vesar were no longer savages intent on bloodshed, on endurance at any cost. In that light Vesarius, himself, had chosen to trust his human allies. He would trust his instincts with this one as well.
Vesarius’ feet froze under him. Dorinda stopped, too, to regard him with a questioning glare. “What’s wrong?”
What should I tell her? “You must return to the cottage. I will find the place alone.”
“But why? Is there danger?”
Thinking fast, Vesarius nodded. “Yes. The Orthops may be there.” His hands kneaded in self-annoyance. His eyes found the object holstered inside Dorinda’s denim jacket when she slid the garment aside. “You are armed.”
“Yes. This was Michael’s gun. He taught me how to use it before he died.” Dorinda shrugged. “It’s funny. Part of me thinks he knew he’d be leaving me alone, knew I’d need this someday.” Dorinda recovered the pistol, her challenging brow expectant of further protest.
Now it was Vesarius who came to her defense. “You cannot kill them with that. An Orthop stands three meters tall and is covered in organic armor. They are hard to destroy.”
In response, Dorinda plopped her hands onto her hips. “Then I guess you’re better equipped to take them on.” Huffing she swung an accusing hand. “Even unarmed, I suppose Vesar warriors are indestructible.”
Dorinda was making this hard for him. Vesarius avoided her cold stare. “I … do not want you to get hurt,” he started. But when she rolled her eyes and laughed harshly, Vesarius continued with solemnity. “Green Eyes, I owe you my life. But my presence here has caused you enough anguish. I must return to my world and leave you to yours ... untouched.”
Dorinda objected. “But you’ve-”
Vesarius did not let her finish. Stepping before her he elucidated. “I will wait at the place, alone, for Coty to call through the Arch. Then I will walk through and be home.”
Dorinda’s face shouted with the same uncertainty he had seen in her before. A hint of her true feelings was revealed when she blurted, “But ... I’ll never see you again.”
Vesarius’ wide lips beamed in confirmation. Deeply he proclaimed, “You do like me, Green Eyes.”
“All right, I’ll admit it. I like you. I’ll even miss your humor. I just ... don’t want you to go. Not this way.”
“Would you rather I step out in front of a rushing hovercar?”
Dorinda chuckled through her frustration. “No, of course not. But can’t I walk with you, wait with you? There’s still so much I don’t know about you and your world. You just got here.”
Vesarius shook his head sternly. “There is a danger that the Orthops will return. I know Coty. If he is onto something – a way to return me to my own time – he will stretch the rules and wait to destroy the Arch.” Vesarius laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I thank you for my life.” Then, reaching down with his other hand, Vesarius withdrew his jewel-embedded survival knife from its concealing boot sheath.
Dori flinched at the shiny blade, but said nothing as Vesarius reached behind himself to pull his long braid forward. Drawing the weapon through the coils the Vesar severed a fifteen-centimeter long lock and laid it across his outstretched arm. “I am indebted to you, Green Eyes, three times over.”
Hesitantly, she gathered the ebony shock and stared at it through glazed eyes. “Thank you.”
“It is the longest I have ever cut. My heart honors you.” In salute Vesarius laid his folded left palm upon his shoulder-enshrouded heart.
“Vesarius ...” Dorinda started, her voice soft, her head low.
“Please, Green Eyes.” He slid the knife back into his boot. “Take the braid as a gesture of friendship as well, and return to your home.” Vesarius lifted her chin in his mahogany fingers, witnessed the tear stripe her cheek and brushed it aside with his thumb. “I do not belong here.”
Suddenly she was against him, her arms just reaching around his heaving rib cage. Dorinda’s head bumped against his central crest. Vesarius blinked back the stab of pain, breath catching. Recovering, he brushed aside Dorinda’s loosely braided hair to briefly return the embrace. Then with a murmured, “Forgive me,” Vesarius squeezed the pressure point at the nape of her neck. Dorinda collapsed in his arms. Smoothly he laid her limp form out on the cool forest ground.
The collie whimpered and came to sniff its owner. Vesarius rose to his booted feet. “Stay, Casey,” he commanded. “She will be all right.” With a last pat to the dog’s head, the mahogany man turned to stride farther into the woods and closer to his only way home.
* * *
Groaning, Dorinda rolled her head to sense a furry body beside her. Casey rose to her paws. The collie shook the leaves from her coat, then snuffled Dori’s cheek, tail wagging. “Casey, did I fall asleep?” When the dog licked her, Dorinda widened her eyes. She was in the woods, lying on her back. She raised her hand to rub her face clear of sleep. A swatch of black hair came with it. Startled, Dorinda dropped the hair then remembered: “Vesarius.”
Her disorientation quickly changed to frustration. Clambering to her feet, Dorinda shook back the dizziness and checked her bearings. The sun was tall in the cloudless sky. “It must be past noon,” she blurted. “Damn him. He knew I wouldn’t let him go alone.” Dorinda puffed as she brushed the forest detritus from her pant legs. “Brave woman indeed.”
Sucking a decisive breath, Dorinda ordered her dog to action. “Casey, track. Find Vesarius. Track, Casey.” Tapping the collie on the nose, Dorinda then bent to tap the fallen raven braid as well. After allowing the dog a deep sniff, she then waved Casey forward in the right direction. “Track.” A tiny jingle bell attached to Casey’s collar told Dorinda just where the collie was as she bounded in through the underbrush.
“Find Vesarius.” Dori snatched up the braid for safe-keeping. Swiftly she jogged off after her dog. The holstered pistol patted Dorinda’s ribs as she dodged the many obstacles and flying bugs of the Adirondack wilderness.
* * *
Hearing voices up ahead, Vesarius stalled his trek to listen. The woods were rich with the damp smells of growing and decaying vegetation, of skunk musk and deer spore, and the acrid scent of burning tobacco. His nostrils flaring at the odor, Vesarius acknowledged, it wasn’t Coty’s brand. The captain’s pipe tobacco exuded a spicy nut aroma from the Tloni jarrowroot he dried, pounded, and blended in himself. No. This smell was of old Earth tobacco. Someone was smoking a cigarette.
“It’s blood all right, Sheriff,” a female voice announced. “Have a look at this.”
Vesarius crept closer, pausing anytime his boots cracked a branch or snapped a twig. Loose hair veiled his eyes; Vesarius swiped the strands away. There was no time to re-braid his locks now. Through the trees up ahead he spied movement. White-clad bodies were ambling about in a circular area – stooping, examining, retrieving objects, standing, and moving on to another spot. Slowly Vesarius drew near enough to see clearly that the investigation was in full swing.
A brown-jacketed man skirted the perimeter with a small flashing box. A brunette-haired woman in a white coat displayed a rather familiar, darkened sapling for inspection. She stood talking to an older, paunched gentleman wearing a navy uniform and hat. At his belt dangled a holstered revolver and black nightstick. Vesarius recognized the outfit as belonging to a police officer. The Vesar watched other officers bring him blood-stained items and pause to ask him questions. This must be Cooper. Crouching low behind a double-trunked swamp maple, the Vesar listened in on the conversations and grew concerned.
“Looks like the blood trail just stops here,” a familiar voice affirmed. Deputy Dan Hawthorne. The man knelt at a slight depression in the soft forest floor. “I mean starts here.”
The woman in the lab coat nodded at a colleague then confirmed the latter. “We followed the trail in from where Mrs. Tanner’s skid marks were left in the dirt. Broken branches and footprints consistently face toward the Uncas Road.” The female took several plastic bags from another assistant. “I can’t tell you much more, Sheriff Cooper, until I get these samples in to the lab for analysis. This person was large, fairly heavy, and walked with a severe limp, probably caused from that bloody sapling I just showed you.”
“But, Dr. Henry, that’s not human blood,” Dan Hawthorne argued coming to join his sheriff. “It’s too orange. From experience-”
“Experience, deputy?” Dr. Henry ducked her pointed chin at the officer. “As medical examiner of Hamilton County, I have seen a few blood samples in my day.”
