Centauri Serenade

by Theresa Jenner Garrido

  Setting her mind on this resolve, Annie resumed her hike. She’d taken only half a dozen steps when she skidded to a stop. A snapping sound—a twig breaking behind her somewhere! Frozen in place, with heart pounding, she strained to hear the sound again. She didn’t have long to wait. A distinct rustling came from the tall grass to her left.

  Turning, she stared at the grass that swayed and whispered around her. It had taken on the appearance of a giant undulating sea, and Annie had the ominous sensation of a tired swimmer about to drown in its rolling waves. What kind of wildlife did they have on Ahrmoira? Was she being incredibly stupid or was she just letting her imagination get the better of her?

  It’s probably nothing. Don’t lose it now, you ninny. You made it this far. Keep going. Nothing’s going to jump out at you.

  She continued her trek—ears tuned to any strange and eerie noises around her. When she got to the edge of the thick woods, she again hesitated. It’d been bad enough walking in an open meadow. What would the dark woods be like? The answer didn’t bear thinking about, so, with a determined straightening of her shoulders, she entered the thick shadows—her eyes riveted on the path in front of her. Nowhere else.

  Then she heard the footsteps.

  Without a doubt, someone or something followed her. Annie studied the trees looming up on all sides. Their trunks were either too thick or had no low branches to climb. She didn’t know what to do. Should she be brazen and call out, to show the someone sneaking up on her that she knew he was there? But if it was an animal, calling out would do no good. Annie held her breath and counted to ten.

  “Who’s there.” she shouted, her voice cracking on the last syllable. “I know you’re there so come out and show yourself.” No answer. She hadn’t expected one.

  Annie ran.

  And whatever it was that followed, ran too.

  She could hear the soft thump-thump of its footsteps—not that far behind. She willed her legs to pump faster. Her breaths were choking gasps and perspiration drooled down her face, neck, and back. Then the path ended—abruptly. A sheer, rock wall rose up to block her way. Trapped!

  Annie whirled around, desperate for a hiding place. There was none. Only the too-tall trees and the sheer rock face in front of her. You have to climb. She screamed to herself. You have to climb now.

  Forgetting that she was afraid of heights, forgetting that the last time she’d tried to climb higher than a kitchen stool she’d gotten dizzy, Annie reached up and grabbed the first protrusion she could see on the steep rock wall. With strength she didn’t know she had, she pulled herself up with a grunt. As sheer and smooth as the wall first had appeared, there were plenty of cracks and bumps on which to cling and find footing. Annie climbed until she was high enough to see past the woods to the large meadow with its tall, quivering grass…and the sea beyond.

  Jeez…don’t look down. Oh, God…oh, God…I hate this…

  The three full moons had reached their zenith and their light illuminated the scene like an impressionistic painting. Although Annie could see everything, the details blurred. It was both exquisite and frightening.

  Black spots danced and gyrated in her peripheral vision.

  And her fingers were getting numb. Annie knew she couldn’t hang on forever to the side of this steep rock wall. She had to keep going. Surveying the area beneath, she searched for the thing that had made the footsteps. At first, she could only see trees and more trees, bushes and shrubs. And then, she saw an almost imperceptible movement in the bushes on the left…and then…on the right.

  Oh, God…oh, God…what is it…what is it…

  As she watched in horrified silence, two, four—no, seven—animals minced out of the shadows and into the moonlight. From her height, Annie could tell that these animals were big. They looked bigger, even, than Mrs. Larson’s German shepherd back in Atlanta. They resembled a dog in body, but possessed a cat’s flatter face. Their eyes were large and round, and when they stared up at Annie, clinging to a precarious section of rock, their eyes shone an eerie green in the reflected moonlight.

  “Go away.” Annie shouted. “Shoo. Go away. Go away.”

  Instead of shying away in fright, the seven large animals circled and sniffed and pawed the area where Annie had been standing. Hoarse growls turned into snarls. Snarls erupted into deep-throated, hacking barks. Several of the “cat-dogs” leaped up in frustrated attempts to reach their cornered prey. Annie closed her eyes and prayed like she’d never prayed before.

  The barking, snarling, snapping didn’t abate. In fact, it grew in fervor. Annie knew she couldn’t hold onto her narrow crack much longer. Her hands ached and the fingertips had lost all feeling. Her body trembled as her feet balanced on the uncertain ledge. Even with her eyes tightly shut, she felt even dizzier. She had to do something, and had to do it now or she’d fall. She’d be out of it before the savage things below even had a chance.

  Annie kept climbing.

  Twice she slipped and almost lost her balance. Once, the knob of rock she grabbed crumbled in her hand. If she hadn’t been holding on with the other hand, she would’ve been dinner for the wild creatures below.

  Just when Annie thought she couldn’t go an inch farther, she made it to the top. With her last ounce of strength, she hauled herself up and onto the flat surface of the rock’s crown. Her hands were scratched and scraped and bloody, but she’d made it. She peered over the edge, but pulled back when a wave of vertigo nearly overcame her.

  Lying on her back, she stared up at the sky; at the three round balls that looked pretty enough to be Christmas ornaments on Nana’s perfectly decorated tree. Annie stared up into the night sky, letting her mind block out all images that terrified. She concentrated on the three impossible moons; wondered what their names were. She didn’t remember anyone ever telling her. They were so wonderful that they deserved really grand names.

  “You should be called Troy, Sparta, Athens…or Big Blue and…”

  A noise chased the absurd thought into oblivion, and Annie sucked in a cutting breath. What was it now? Another wild animal to deal with? Did those below find a way up the cliff? Were there more up here? She lay still—hardly daring to breathe. Then she heard it again. Not the thump-thump of the cat-dogs below, but a definite plodding—like something very heavy stomping through the woods.

  Something not afraid of the cat-dogs.

  For several minutes, Annie lay immobile, listening to the steady approach of the bigger, heavier “thing”. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the cat-dogs let out a sharp howl then dashed into the thickest part of the forest. Their frantic growls grew fainter as they put more and more distance between them and the newcomer. Annie felt sick to her stomach. The seven cat-dogs had been bad enough. Whatever had chased them away had to be a thousand times worse.

  Inching her way on her belly, Annie crawled to the edge of the cliff and looked down. It wasn’t as bad as looking over while sitting up. She felt more secure lying prone with the solidity of rock beneath her extended body. She waited for the Thing to show itself, praying it wouldn’t be so horrible that she’d faint. Praying it couldn’t sense her up on the top of the embankment. Praying…

  What emerged from the tangled growth surprised her so that Annie forgot caution and gasped out loud.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Annie sucked in air and blew out her cheeks as the animal stepped into the clearing beneath the cliff. It was huge. It was as big as a polar bear and just as white but walked upright. Long, fringe-like fur covered its immense body, and Annie had to stifle another exclamation as she stared in awe at its rare beauty…and massive size…and large, curved incisors.

  It resembled a bear…yet looked like a unicorn. Annie didn’t know how to describe it. It was unique. A huge, furry polar bear-like thing—with a single horn jutting from its forehead. It had large, almond-shaped eyes, a long, pointed snout, and ears which stuck up—like a bear’s, but not quite. And walking upright on two legs gave it human qualities.
She wondered whether it could climb.

  It could.

  With one fluid motion, it shinnied up the steep, rock wall topping it before Annie had even gotten to her feet. She squatted in a half-crouch when its huge head appeared beside her. Its appearance was so sudden, she couldn’t utter a sound—couldn’t scream, couldn’t even gasp. All she could do was meet the creature, eye-to-eye.

  It scrambled up and over and then rose to stand over six feet tall. Doc was 6’2” and Annie knew this thing was taller than her grandfather. It didn’t growl or make any threatening moves—just stood there looking down at her, as though trying to figure out what she was.

  Annie stood up. She breathed hard and her heart thudded so violently that she figured the “thing” could see it. She felt like fainting—or throwing up. She didn’t know whether she should keep silent, say something soothing, or shout at the top of her lungs. She kept her mouth shut.

  The creature, however, opened its mouth and made a hoarse hacking noise. Annie’s skin crawled. Her heart did a somersault when the beast took two steps closer. She screwed up her face and held her breath, not daring to move even a fraction; not wanting to annoy or startle the thing. Her eyes buttoned closed, she stood rigid while it nosed her. She felt its hot breath on her face, smelled the sourness of it, fought the urge to gag and retch. The animal circled her twice, its long snout rubbing up and down her body. It was all she could do to remain standing against this invasion. Her instincts told her to hunker down, throw her arms up over her head, and scream her lungs out. But she didn’t. Annie posed like a mannequin and let the beast examine her.

  A lifetime later, the thing stopped sniffing and stepped back. Annie opened her eyes and let her pent-up breath out in tiny spurts that made soft whistling sounds. The bear-creature stood less than a yard away, shaggy head cocked, almond eyes focused on her in an un-blinking stare that made Annie itch all over. The beast sized her up, and by the way saliva dripped from the corners of its mouth, and the narrowing of the slanted eyes, she had the feeling it wasn’t real thrilled to meet her.

  Okay…this thing is a wild animal…a big wild animal…what do I do? She remembered an episode of The Dog Whisperer on The National Geographic Channel. He’d talked about how a dog picked up on a human’s feelings of worry or fear; how the energy the human projected internally is picked up by the dog, causing him to act accordingly.

  He also said something about dogs having a great sense of smell…experiencing the world through their noses…I wonder…does this bear-thing have a good sense of smell? He sure wanted to sniff me all over. Didn’t the Dog Whisperer say something about aromatherapy working on dogs as well as humans?

  Annie kept her eyes on the beast and slipped her hand into her pocket. One small mahji fruit remained, rather pulpy and squishy, but intact, and she pulled it out, trying hard not to make any sudden movements.

  “Here, boy…something yummy…do you smell it? Mahji, fella…sweet and juicy…you can have it…”

  Annie stretched out her arm and held her breath as the creature sniffed her cupped palm. When he opened his drooling mouth and displayed two rows of sharp teeth, Annie winced but didn’t falter. She willed her hand to remain steady and waited while the brute sniffed and licked and finally sucked up the little fruit in one gulp.

  Then, as though it had seen enough, bored with this strange alien before him, the beast yawned, turned, and ambled into the woods. Within seconds, it disappeared. She stared at the trees, which had swallowed the creature, for several minutes. She couldn’t believe she’d come through that without so much as a hair out of place. “I wonder what the Draehls would say about this little get-together. What was that thing?”

  Wiping the stickiness left on her hand down her jeans, Annie surveyed her surroundings.

  How far did these woods extend? Would there be another cliff to descend or ascend? Was she on a plateau or would the land remain flat for an appreciable distance? She didn’t want to exhaust herself for nothing.

  Annie flopped down and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God…what am I going to do?” It had been a foolish, impulsive, childish thing to do. She knew that now. All she’d accomplished was to aggravate the Draehls and make it more difficult for them. She’d risked her life, and had only postponed the inevitable. They were bringing her back to Earth, whether she wanted to go, or not. Not a single thing she could do to prevent it.

  She lay back on the smooth ground, drew her knees up in a fetal position, and closed her eyes. She was tired. It didn’t matter if the beast returned or the cat-dogs snarled. Nothing mattered anymore.

  * * * *

  Annie awoke the next morning, disoriented. Bounding to her feet, she whirled around in a few seconds of sheer panic. And then she remembered. She’d “borrowed” the twins’ boat, run away like a silly kid, and was now alone on what seemed to be a deserted island. Way to go, Annie. Any more tricks up your sleeve?

  Stepping to the edge of the precipice, Annie looked down and assessed her options. Returning to the beach seemed the best bet, but she wasn’t sure she could climb down. Climbing up had taken a miracle—climbing down would take two. But what alternative was there? She had to. No point in prolonging the inevitable. Turning around, she got down onto her stomach and let her legs dangle off the cliff. Her foot found a protrusion that held her weight. She began the descent.

  She’d made it two-thirds of the way down without mishap and was just about to let out a huge sigh of triumph and relief, when the rock she clung to with her right hand crumbled. It threw her off balance. The next thing she knew, she lay flat on her back on the hard ground below.

  The wind had been knocked out of her, and she lay gasping and coughing for air. For one frightening moment, she thought she was dying, and then, in great gulping hiccups, she took in oxygen. Sitting up on one elbow, she examined her right hand and found it bloody from countless cuts and abrasions. Her left elbow was scraped raw, and her tailbone hurt. Other than that, she seemed to have managed her abrupt landing in one piece.

  Annie clambered to her feet, looked around to see whether the cat-dogs were anywhere near, and then retraced the route she’d taken the night before. By the time she made it to the beach, she dripped with sweat. Her hand stung and her lower back ached. The little boat sat where she’d left it, but she hadn’t enough strength to push it out to sea.

  Choosing a hollowed out, natural seat between two gigantic rocks, Annie eased herself down and stretched her legs out in front of her. The sun was climbing and it was warm out. The wahshhahi lapped at the shore, a slight breeze stirred the air, and the combination of sounds and scents intoxicated her. Annie closed her eyes and dozed.

  A droning sound forced its way into her dream. She’d been playing her violin in a cascade of colored moonbeams with smiling faces all around. Then, an obnoxious engine noise took dominion over her lovely berceuse—her lullaby to the moons.

  Annie opened her eyes and blinked in bewilderment. A hoverlight landed on the beach in front of her. Too late to hide. Whoever piloted the craft had already seen her. She stood up, both fists clenched, as a lone figure climbed out and stared at her. A man stared at her as though she were some unexpected mythical creature. For several minutes he stayed by his small craft, wearing a slight frown. About Craddohk’s age, he didn’t appear to be a threat, but Annie didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Who are you?” she yelled, as though he trespassed on her property. “What do you want?”

  “Greetings. I was wondering whether you had a voice.”

  “Yes, I have a voice, thank you all the same,” Annie said. “Now, who are you and what do you want?”

  “My name is Giahn Zha Dohr. I am what you would call a police officer on your planet. I am a good friend of Captain Draehl. You are young Annie Wren from Earth, I presume. Am I correct?”

  “Yes…that’s correct. So…are you here looking for me or what?”

  At this he ran a long-fingered hand through his dark blue hair. �
�Yes, I certainly am looking for you. You have caused quite a commotion back at Ter Draeh Hahi. The Draehls are very concerned about your safety. Shall we relieve them of this anxiety?”

  Annie grimaced. “I didn’t want to worry them, but…I had to show them how serious I was about staying here.”

  Giahn shook his head. “That is most unfortunate but we cannot discuss that here. Let us be off.”

  Annie looked around agitatedly. “But what about the boat? I can’t leave it. It belongs to Haelee and Halig. It’s their pride and joy and I’m not sure I should lea…” She hiccupped.

  Giahn took a step forward and extended his hand. “Come with me, Annie. Please. I will bring you safely back to Ter Draeh Hahi. You can trust me, Annie.”

  With a resigned shrug, Annie allowed the man to guide her into his hoverlight and strap her in. Then he got in and started the motor. In seconds, they lifted off and skimmed across the purple waves toward the Draehl’s island home.

  The policeman glanced at her scratched hand. “How did you hurt yourself?”

  “Fell while climbing down a steep rock,” Annie said in a monotone.

  “What possessed you to climb it in the first place?”

  “Some cat-dog-like animals were after me. They weren’t nice.”

  Giahn chuckled in amazement. “If they were tahls, they certainly were not ‘nice’. Tahls are extremely vicious animals. You were lucky.”

  “Hmm, well, another, bigger, animal scared them away. It looked like what we call a bear—only with a horn on its forehead.”

  Now he laughed outright. “You do not say. That sounds like a tohpadh. Incredible. Two of our, shall we say, least friendly beings, and you with only a scratch to boast of the encounter.”