ELE

Ele had known no prison more dreadful than their home. They gazed through the pristine glass of their bedroom window at the village outside. There, The People moved about metal structures crafted into the trees of the Homeworld, as much a part of nature as the animals scurrying alongside them.

As Ele watched, they found themself missing their window’s bars, which was, of course, nonsense. It was not captivity they missed. It was the sense of routine, of kinship, and of familiarity. Even the clothes they wore felt foreign to them. A childhood spent in nakedness made even the lightest of fabrics feel weighted and rough against their fur. By societal expectation alone, they donned a simple robe, as scarcely decorated as they could find in a world of jewels, beads, and intricate trappings and took solace in knowing it would not be for long.

They checked the comms on the dresser. Night had nearly descended and yet no new messages had arrived. Their stomach twisted and turned, but they had faith their companion in orbit would do her part. She could not fail. That night may be the only chance for Ele to get off-word. It must work. By the Stars, it must! They could not take another day of perfumes, shallow words of pity, or the pain of loneliness. If by a cruel turn of fate the plan went south, they would sooner die than stay.

The servants arrived with an evening meal, red fruit and a salad of fresh greens. Servants! Whoever would have imagined being treated like royalty after a life of filth and deprivation? It was to be expected, Ele supposed, part and parcel of the reception of a “hero.” Never before had one of The People been stolen by an outsider, imprisoned, and found their way home against all odds. Ele’s story had won the hearts and minds of the world, the story of a lost child returned home.

Yes, the word “hero” had been slung about from the lips of sympathizers and well-wishers like bullets from the guns of zealous soldiers. Yet Ele had found themself already growing rather exasperated with the mantle. A desire for attention was the mark of an insecure heart.

Ele accepted the food despite not feeling hungry. Their appetite had always been the first to go when apprehension struck.

“I should like to take a walk this evening,” Ele sang in the melodious language of The People. In doing so, they took the first step in a chain that would lead them down a path of no return. “The forest calls me.”

“There is a cool breeze in the trees,” a servant sang. “May we suggest some warmer wear?”

Ele nodded.

The servants wrapped a thick cloak of red across Ele’s shoulders and draped a beaded string from their fully-grown antlers, a tradition meant to bestow luck. Let them drape all the lucky beads in the world on their head. They would need it for what they were about to do.

“This cloak is quite heavy,” Ele sang. “If it is really so cold, I should like a tea as I walk. Prepare a cup for Aloo as well. They will be joining me no doubt.”

Ele waited patiently for the tea to brew and the servants to pour it into a pair of tall wooden cups. In addition to offering a pleasant smell and sweet taste, the heat from the tea leached into the wood and warmed the hands. Ele found the ritual charming. It was one of the few rituals they had enjoyed since coming to the Homeworld.

Ele flavored the tea to their liking, took a cup in each hand, and headed down the curled steps cut from the tree’s trunk to the front door. Word among servants traveled fast, and Ele’s aide, Aloo, waited in a lush burgundy cloak in the foyer. Their brown eyes sparkled in the dim lamplight and their golden mane had been tied in braids around their antlers.

Many times it had been suggested Ele wear their hair in such braids, but they lacked the skill to do it themself, and being touched by others was no more appealing than having their fingers pried off by a dull blade. The human healers called it a symptom of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A secondary symptom was that Ele’s hair was free to fall where it may.

“Could you not tell me you planned to walk before I turned in for the night?” Aloo sang.

“I am perfectly capable of walking alone,” Ele replied. “It would not offend me if you returned to your bed.”

“And risk a scolding from the Chief, not to mention Healer Ae? An hour of sleep lost is worth avoiding the unpleasantness.” They sighed. “That aside, I suppose I could use the fresh air.”

“So I suspected.” Ele smiled and handed Aloo the second cup. “Come. I promise not to put you out for long.”

Streams of setting sunlight shone through the canopy and cast a glow over the village. Over the pungent scent of tea, Ele smelled the floral scene of the forest.They embraced the chilly wind on their ears and the evening quiet. Most of The People had returned to their homes for the night. Ele could see the lights of their windows glowing from the curved shells of treehouses as they ate their evening meals or turned into bed.

The public house in which Ele lived stood out as the largest, the main portion of the house built into the ground while the rooms sat on the branches of a mighty tree. Any of The People who wished to stay there would be welcome. Homelessness did not exist on the Homeworld, nor poverty, nor want for anything—except perhaps freedom. The village shield protected The People from outsiders, but it also kept them contained within. No one, save those traveling with permits on official business, could pass in or out. Although most would never care to challenge this. The Homeworld, after all, was a paradise.

As a group of children ran past on their way home—their antlers short and stubby and their voices high and giggly—and Ele wondered if they would want to escape if their life had gone another way. But their life had gone the way it had, and Ele did not belong there, not anymore.

“I mean to leave this place, Aloo,” they admitted.

“I know you mean to,” Aloo sang. They had heard this talk before. Their flat tone made it clear they placed no stock in the claim. They continued to sip their tea, and Ele noted they had nearly emptied their cup.

“Tonight, Aloo,” Ele insisted.

Aloo stopped and their nostrils flared. “If that is meant to be a joke, it is not funny.”

“I have spent too much of my life held captive.”

“I wish you would stop saying those things! You are not captive here.”

“Aren’t I?” Ele locked onto Aloo’s eyes. “My every move is carefully planned and scheduled, my meals delivered to me by tray. I cannot leave. Everything I do is supervised. I cannot even take an evening stroll without a chaperone.”

“How many times must I remind you that this is a temporary measure?” Aloo looked away and sipped. “These are not rules meant to punish you. They are orders from the best Healer in the village. You are not well. You need time to recover from your ordeal. How have your sessions been with Healer Ae? Better? They speak very highly of you.”

“They have been generous with my sedative dosage. For that, I am grateful.”

“Oh? Have you slept well?”

“Yes.” Ele swirled the tea in their cup. “Last night particularly, I found tripling the recommended amount put me down within minutes.”

“Ele! Are you trying to raise my fur?” Aloo choked on their last swig. “Telling me you mean to leave tonight and that you have been toying with the dosage of your medication? You know I must report these things!”

Ele leaned in and sang in a whisper, “I am telling you so when you begin to feel dizzy and tired you understand why it is happening and do not feel afraid.”

“What?” Aloo’s attention fell to the moist bottom of their cup. Their hands recoiled and it fell to the ground. “Ele, no! Tell me you did not—!”

“No apology I could ever extend would be enough, Aloo. You have shown me nothing but kindness. Now, please sit.” Without touching Aloo, Ele extended a hand to guide them to a bench in the shadow of a nearby tree. “If you do not, you will fall, and I do not wish for you to be hurt.”

As if by Ele’s word, Aloo stumbled. Their eyes drooped. Ele detected a whisper and thought they might be singing some not-very-kind things under their breath, although was certain they were not. It might as well have been impossible for The People to ever not be kind.

Ele ensured they were safely situated on the bench with their cloak wrapped snugly around them before sneaking away. It would not be long before someone would spot them sleeping there and come to investigate, but in the meantime, let it not be said Ele left them to suffer in the cold.

The forest path to the shield generator spanned miles, but Ele made it before the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. The canopy had been cleared away to allow a blue beam sprouting from within a metal cage to feed the shield above. It had no walls, and the guards stood in the open, the blowguns on their belts loaded with tranquilizer darts. They would have personal shields, too. Ele had known the generator would be guarded but did not know how many there would be until they arrived. Two seemed manageable.

Ele closed their eyes and felt the gentle breeze in their mane. It came from the west. Staying within the trees, they edged their way around  until the air’s current tugged them toward the guards. Their fur stood on end. Ele spent their life avoiding being upwind at all costs, for they were most susceptible to monster attack in that position. They took a slow deep breath and reassured themself there were no monsters within the shield. At least none that would be drawn by their scent. The noses of The People were not as keen as other beasts, and they would not smell Ele on the wind.

On the other hand, they possessed unparalleled hearing, so Ele did their best to remain silent. They collected a patch of dry leaves and piled them on the ground in a pyramid.

Footsteps. Ele’s ears twitched and they shot to their feet, both of their hearts giving consecutive jolts.

The Chief, clad in a brilliant maze of green and gold and flanked by no less than five armed attendants, burst through the trees.

“Ele!” the Chief bellowed. “Stop this at once!”

“How did you know I would be here?” Ele offered their hands, palms-out, so they could see they carried no weapons. In human culture, the sign was one of surrender. Among The People, it was a common gesture of friendly intent.

“I know everything.” The Chief tilted their head forward to display their massive antlers. “Why Ele? For days I have given you the benefit of the doubt. I told my attendants time and time again that despite any messages exchanged between you and the humans, you would not go through with it. I had faith that in your heart you were still one of The People, but you have proven me wrong this night.”

Ele’s limbs grew cold. “You have been reading my personal messages.”

“Of course we have! You are not well. You could not be allowed private correspondences with those who might take advantage. Clearly, we should have put a stop to it much sooner.”

Ele eyed the sky for any sign of the shuttle sent to rescue them. “My friend—”

“Is not coming. I spoke with the human personally and have seen to it that the whole endeavor has been shut down. No one is coming to take you away again, Ele. You are home. You must learn to accept this. What have you done with Aloo? If you have committed an act of violence—”

Ele did not stay to hear more. They ran, and if there was one thing Ele excelled at, it was running. The plan had failed, but Ele was not without hope. One place remained to go, one more thing to do. They stayed low and quiet, creeping with hunter’s skill through the dirt paths and through trees until they came to a dark building on the farthest side of the forest.

It sat elevated in the tree’s branches. A solitary guard stood at its base. The plan to remove the guards from the generator would do just as well here. Ele found the direction of the air’s pull and positioned themself upwind. After building their pyramid of brush, they produced a laser lighter from within their robes and used it to set a small flame.

Forest fires presented a significant danger to The People. When the wind carried the smell of smoke to the guard, they would have no choice. They would have to look into its source. To do otherwise would risk the destruction of the village—a risk Ele took by starting the fire in the first place, but it could not be helped.

The good guard obliged. At least something had gone right.

While they were distracted, Ele snuck around the backside of the tree. Millions of years of living in trees made The People adept climbers and it took no time at all to reach the building at the top-most branches.

The door did not lock from the outside. The People would never dare venture here. An outsider, the very thing The People fear from beyond the shield, lay chained to the floor within. He’d seen his arrest and imprisonment the moment he set foot on the Homeworld, not for anything he had done, but for what he was. A monster. His fangs and claws suggested his species had evolved out of a need for violence, and violence could never be tolerated.

His head dangled with the weight of its horns and the black human-made suit he wore was a shade lighter than his skin. He perked up the moment the light from outside illuminated his silver-on-black eyes.

“It is only me,” Ele sang.

He stood as straight as the chains allowed. Ele knew the beast did not understand their words, but they did not hesitate to approach and take his face in their hands. His skin felt hotter than The People’s sweet tea. The People said he had the blood of a demon running through his veins, like fire, but Ele did not believe such things.

“I am afraid I have not secured passage off-world, but I can still get you out of here.” Ele ran their fingers through the jet-black hair on the beast’s head. “Just like old times, my dearest friend.”