Surviving Skarr

“They are not excited about resonance,” the splice says, a smirk on his face. “They have been avoiding me all day.”

They have? Good. I had worried that the males would be having to fend off the pleasure-hungry females at all times and I would return to find them all resonating to one another. I want to be the first, and it sounds like there is still opportunity for it. “Do all have their khui?”

“Most. Kyth needs a new one. He killed his.”

“Kyth?”

“Moden.”

“Ah.” They are rather large. Even the moden here is a splice and the breadth of him is still twice as large as the human male. I eye the splice. “You?”

He taps his chest. “Silence.”

I nod. “Anyone at all?”

“Not yet. Perhaps the resonance is waiting for something.” He shrugs. “They say it is best that way, to give the females time to accustom themselves to the idea. I say, best for who?”

I step closer to the fire, my hands now warm, and turn sideways so my heavy tail can benefit from the heat of the flame. As I do so, I think. I eye the splice. “You are…Chath?”

“Chalath,” he corrects. “Skarr, yes?” He studies me. “Ssethri and mesakkah?”

I nod. It’s a mix that allows me to excel…unless the entire keffing planet is ice, that is. “Did you spar with anyone today, Chalath?”

He shakes his head. “I hunted some, but we have been told over and over not to spar. Not to battle one another. That it is not wanted here.”

“And we have been told it is good that the females do not resonate yet, yes?” I stroke my chin, the puzzle pieces of the day teasing themselves together. “What if the two are tied? What if a good, fierce battle to show our skills will cause us to resonate?”

Chalath perks, his triangular ears flicking. “What’s that now?”

“I am simply thinking.” I prowl around the fire, circling to make sure that the bossy human female Flor and her strange not-mesakkah mate are not around, since they seem to be in charge. “How will the females’ khuis know if we are excellent warriors if we do not display our skills?”

He frowns suspiciously. “You have a point. They told us not to battle one another, and we have not. And at the same time, no one has resonated.”

“Exactly my thought. If the two are co

The splice gets to his feet and crosses his arms. “I want what is best for my female, too—”

“Hsst!” I cut him off before he can argue more. “You think this is not good for the females? Were we not told resonance is good? That we will all enjoy it? Why would we deprive them of such a thing?”

“You…may have a point.”

“I know I do.” I tap the side of my temple viciously. “They think they can outsmart me, but I am smart. I am clever. I hear what they are not saying to me, and I tell you this. I want a female of my own. I want this resonance.” I cut a hand through the air. “I do not want to wait until it is right for them. I want it to be right for me.”

Chalath’s newly blue eyes flare with excitement. “And you think if we spar this will be the answer?”

I spread my arms wide. “How else do you show a female you are the strongest? The best? By sitting here by the fire with your claw up your keffing rear?”

His expression darkens and I can see his jaw clench with anger. Good.

I pound my chest again. “Fight me. Let us test our new khuis that should help with healing. Let our blood heat with battle. Let us show these females what strong, fierce mates we will make.” I give him a determined look. “They will all resonate to us.”

Chalath grins with excitement, showing wickedly sharp teeth. “Pick the place, then. Let us fight.”

I cast a look around the encampment, trying to determine the best place to have our battle. Not near the fire— much as I enjoy its warmth, I have suffered burns in the past—I think—and it is a painful recovery. I would prefer to avoid that. Too far away from the camp, though, and no one will get to see our display. As I watch, two females start to set up another one of the strange tents a short distance away. There is a clear spot next to them, large enough that we can brawl.

And both nosy Flor and her mate are on the very far side of the encampment. Good.

A light snow is falling, and the mossy carpet has been covered with a thin layer of white powder. I gesture for Chalath to follow me and we move near the females. The two women give us uneasy looks but continue with their task, ignoring us.

They will not ignore us for long. I drag the leather heel of my new boot on the ground, marking a circle. “We will fight inside this circle,” I whisper to Chalath. “Whoever steps out of the circle first loses, or whoever draws first blood. Nothing lethal—just enough to display to the females our skills.”

He nods slowly. “I like this. You are wise.”

“I know.” I step inside the circle and pull my new heavy tunic off. It is warm and feels good against my scales, but it is also bulky and lined with fur and will not help in battle. I will need quick movements, fast movements, because splices are deadly and their reflexes are enhanced. I am a splice, too, but Chalath could have abilities I am unaware of because he could be any mixture of things. Best to be cautious at first.

Not that I need caution. I will win.

He pulls off his tunic, casting it at the feet of one of the women. They look over at us, and one female gives us a puzzled look. “You guys feverish or something?”

“Or something,” Chalath calls out, and then raises his fists to his chest, assuming a protective stance. He flicks a finger at me, indicating I should come at him.

With a feral snarl, I lunge.

The females scream, scrambling away as Chalath and I begin to spar. Immediately I am comfortable once more. This is what I am born to do. I grapple his arms, ignoring his claws as they dig into my scales. I can see the same crazy excitement in Chalath’s gaze as I feel—for the first time in days I feel alive. He shoves his weight at me, forcing me backward, and I swerve, ducking as he rakes his claws through the air. Within a few quick moves, I know what kind of fighter he is. He is all brute force, not sly intelligence or dexterity.

Unfortunately for him, I am all three.

I kick at him, turning and lashing him with my tail when he tries to roll away. I turn, keeping the upper hand, and lunge at him, trying to grapple. Back and forth we go, swiping at each other and circling, and I land a fist in his face when he tries to duck my swinging tail. He grunts and shakes it off, then tackles me and flings me to the ground.

“Stop it!” a female shrieks. “Where are Flor and I’rec? They’re fighting! Someone make them stop! Kyth! Stop them!”

The big moden splice just grunts, standing nearby to watch, and I know he will not stop us. He might want to fight me next, and I welcome the challenge. Gri

Then I am being grabbed and dragged backward, even as Chalath has a stranger’s arm locked around his neck. It is I’rec, a look of fury on his face as he pulls Chalath away from me. I struggle to break free from my new attacker, and when both my arms are quickly pi

Blood sprays and I laugh with delight. I have won. “Good match,” I call out as we are dragged to separate ends of the camp.

“Idiot,” the praxiian—Valmir—growls in my ear. “Rules are made to be followed.”

Bah. I ignore him. I shake off his grasp and fling my arms in the air, reveling in the looks of shock the females send my way and the sour looks the males do. They are just jealous they did not think of it first. My blood is roaring in my ears, and I feel good.