ELE

Ele shut off the room’s power, releasing the black creature from its energized shackles. They hurried to embrace him. Although certain he must be angry over his incarceration, they sensed only shared excitement in his sinewy arms. His touch felt as familiar as that of their own flesh, as if the two of them had become a single being all those years ago in the throes of the Collector’s Exhibit—one the thinking mind the other the beating heart.

They shared not a word of vocal language between them but had developed a series of hand signals necessary for their survival.

“Sorry,” Ele signaled.

“No sorry,” he signaled back. “We go now.”

“Yes,” and Ele let out a sing-song lyric sounding phonetically similar to “Taroo.” It was the name they had given him. It meant “four-fingered” in the language of The People.

He used those four fingers to signal for instructions.

“You go,” Ele signaled. “No kill. Wait for signal.”

He made a face. So forgiving when it came to Ele, not so forgiving when it came to The People. Yet Ele did not fear his intentions. As set as he may be on vengeance, he would not disobey. Absolute trust filled in where language for discussion was lacking.

He slipped through the door, and Ele sat where he had spent days chained, alone, treated as a beast. They felt his anger, his loneliness, his fear, and remembered those early days in the Exhibit. Never again would either of them know one without the other, Ele promised. The Homeworld’s lush jungles were deep and revered. The People respected their world and there were pockets still unexplored, allowed to live on, unmarred, untouched. That was where Ele would go with Taroo. Together they would finally live in freedom, away from Exhibits, and Sanctuaries, and villages of The People.

A guard burst through the entrance first. They held their blowgun to their mouth and scanned the room for signs of Taroo. Finding it safe, they stepped aside and allowed the Chief inside, their antlers only just clearing the doorway. Their armed attendants remained outside.

“Ele!” the Chief bellowed. “What have you done?”

“He is free,” Ele sang.

“Wake the warriors,” they commanded the guard. “Take my attendants. Wake the entire village if you must. Tell the civilians to climb to the highest branches and wait this out. We must recapture him before anyone is hurt.”

“With the village shield up, he will have nowhere to go,” Ele warned. “He will head straight for The People.”

They blew a gust of angered air from their nostrils. “What are your intentions?”

“Lower the shield. Let me take him into the woods. I will lead him far away and you will never hear from either of us again.”

“By the Stars, Ele! Can you not see what you have become? Manipulation, trickery, threats? These are not the ways of The People. You may not draw blood but you no less commit violence. You are lost. Let us help you find your way again.”

“Lower the shield,” Ele sang again. “Let me pass. If you do not allow us to leave, this will not be the end. It will never be the end, not as long as I, as he, draws breath. You gain nothing by keeping us here.”

“Gain? Gain? You sound like a human! We care not about what we may gain by keeping you. We keep you because you are one of us. One of The People. We care for your safety and wellbeing. In this age of unprecedented access to the outside, we must strive to remain together. To remain as one pure whole, free of the influences of those who would cause us harm and destruction, like the very creature you have unleashed upon us.”

“Chief, please hear me when I sing—”

“No! Enough! I cannot bear to hear another note. You are not well, Ele. You need help.” Having sent the guard away, they turned to the communicator dangling from their wrist. “Lower the village shield,” they sang. “See if you can lure the monster into the woods, then raise the shield once it is clear. Let the forest have its way with it. Send a team to escort Ele back to the public house. Place a guard at the door and confiscate all of their technology. See to it they cannot leave. Chain them to their bedside if you must.” Ele stood and the Chief spread themselves across the door. “You shall not escape again,” they declared.

“I am sorry it has come to this,” Ele replied. “I tried to leave peacefully.”

Even before the age of technology, The People were capable of communication over great distances. Their voices and hearing evolved so that they might belt their melodious calls into the ears of a recipient miles away. Ele opened their throat and sang loud and clear. No matter how far Taroo had traveled, he would hear the sound of his name.

He moved silently. Silently enough that even the ears of The People could not detect him. His blackness melted into the dark of night. Neither Ele nor the Chief knew when, where, or how he would appear until the Chief crashed into the floor. The top-most prongs of their antlers snapped clean off and the air was forced out of their lungs. The massive body of Taroo towered over them, drool dripping off his fangs and onto their cheeks. Taroo could end their life in a single bite, but Ele held him back.

“No kill,” they signaled. “Come.”

Taroo pulled back his lips and a growl rumbled in his throat. “Hungry,” he signaled.

“I know, my friend. There are plenty of animals in the woods,” Ele sang but could not convey such detail to Taroo. Instead, they signaled, “Eat,” and pointed to the door.

Despite the meaninglessness of that gesture, Taroo backed down.

Ele slipped the communicator off of the Chief’s wrist and set out. As ordered by the Chief, the blue shimmer of the  shield evaporated from the sky. It would not be long before someone would try to contact the Chief, fail, and come looking. Ele and Taroo had until then to make their way out of the village.

It did not matter which way they went. The forest surrounded the village on all sides. Once the barrier went up, they could escape in any direction. Ele headed west to the closest village border, running at bounding speed. Taroo preferred to travel slowly, slinking about in the dark, untraceable. He could not keep up with Ele but would track their scent and follow close behind.

A bare patch of dirt where the  shield normally met the ground passed underfoot, and Ele kept running, kept pushing, deeper and deeper into the forest. Their ears focused on the sound of treading feet and singing voices.

Ele kicked off their shoes and felt the tickle of the Homeworld’s blue grass under their toes. The seven moons above cast a silver glow, and creatures small and large ran beside them in solidarity. All the while, the treading and singing continued. Through brush, across streams, over rocks and cliff faces, Ele ran and listened, waiting for the sound to thin and eventually vanish, but The People kept on.

Their commands resonated over the communicator. Keep going. They sang. They have to stop sometime. Keep an eye out for the monster. The Chief’s voice took up the call. Even Healer Ae chimed in, speaking directly to Ele, pleading for them to turn back and come home. Soon, Ele no longer needed the communicator to hear them. Their song filled the forest as if the trees themselves had become a choir.

Then, a new sound joined the ensemble, distant at first, then closer. The low hum tickled Ele’s sensitive auditory nerves but also quickened the beat of their hearts. They recognized the clumsy rumble of human tech. They turned their head to the sky and saw tell-tale lights of shuttle flying low overhead. The Stars shined upon them that night! The humans had come through for them after all.

They changed course, spreading their arms to rub their fur against the passing foliage and make tracking easier for Taroo. The ship came down through the thick canopy and landed in a small clearing. Ele ran straight for the back doors as they opened, ready to buckle in and wait for Taroo.

When the light from the shuttle struck their eyes, it cast the single human occupant in shadow. Ele slammed their feet into the grass, nearly breaking their own kneecaps in the effort to stop dead. The human silhouette of the human standing before them did not have the small curving shape of their female friend, but the box-like stature of a male.

“Velvet! Over here!” the male’s voice called out to them in human language. “Velvet” was the harsh-sounding word they used instead of Ele’s name. “Ele,” described the soft layer of fluff on the outside of The People’s antlers, and this word was the human equivalent. It was easier for a human mouth to articulate than the delicate and subtle pitch change involved in saying “Ele” in the way of The People.

Ele’s eyes adjusted to the new light and the identity of the male waving to them became clear.

Dr. Sachse?

“Where is Ohra?” Ele sang. They always pronounced their friend’s name wrong. Nevertheless, they gave their best effort, as they did not like to be called “Velvet” and did not want to impose their own name on her. They would have done the same for Taroo’s name, had they known it.

He held out a finger as if to say “wait” and placed a little pipe by his lips. “She coming no.” Squeak. “Me came.” Squawk. “Me, you, go.”

“I don’t understand.” Ele sang. “Why are you here?”

He continued his nearly indecipherable butchering of The People’s language. “No time.” Squeak. Squawk. “Need leave now.”

Not even Ele knew Taroo had arrived. A low growl gave him away. He sat atop the human shuttle, nothing but a dark patch on the star-covered night sky. He had stripped off his clothes and was as naked as the day they first met.

“Hello, Four-fingers,” Sachse said in human along with a few other friendly-sounding things Ele did not understand.

Taroo’s lips retracted and a set of fangs sparkled in the light of the ship. His hands came off the roof and formed quick signals. Ele had to squint to make out what he had to say. “Go,” he signed. “Go. Now.”

“We go?” Ele signaled back and pointed to Sachse.

“No,” Taroo signaled. “We go.” And pointed to the woods.

The sound of The People grew nearer.

Sachse yelled something in human, replaced the pipe, and played, “Need leave now. Need leave now. Need leave now. Need leave now.”

Getting off-world would save them from a life of hiding in the wilderness. If they could escape onto a transport, they could go anywhere they wanted. Perhaps they could even make a life for themselves on the diverse world of Earth. Going with Sachse seemed the best and logical choice. But Taroo did not want to.

So, they would not.

“Sorry,” Ele sang. “Tell Ohra we miss her and give her our best.”

“Shit,” he hissed. Ele knew that human word.

From his belt, he pulled a gun. Ele flinched, but when the shot rang out, they did not feel pressure, nor pain. They felt nothing. They had not been hit. Nevertheless, their limbs fell cold, and their eyes went wide. Although they had not been hurt, Taroo had fallen from the top of the shuttle to the ground.

“No!” they cried.

Their legs threw them forward in a tremendous burst of energy and their body collided with Sachse. In all the years Ele had been alive, through all the adversity, all the pain, all the fear they had ever faced, they had always remained a true member of The People. They had never, not once, committed an act of violence or deliberately drew the living blood of another.

Until that moment.

Ele’s flat herbivore teeth crushed the bones of Sachse’s wrist and exploded his tight pale skin. Blood dripped down Ele’s chin and tasted of poison. The man’s screams cut through the songs of The People, painful in Ele’s ears, even deafening. He clawed at Ele’s face and kicked at his legs, but Ele’s hands latched onto his neck and squeezed. They squeezed until the screaming stopped, until the struggling stopped. His teeth dug farther and farther into flesh until, after what was only a confusing flash of anger in Ele’s mind, the gun dropped.

Ele let him go. He coughed, sputtered, and fell to his knees. They reached for the weapon but could not bring themselves to touch it. Instead, they kicked it well out of reach.

“Taroo,” Ele sang and hurried to his side.

They found him sitting up, holding a hand to his ribcage. Blood dripped through his fingers, but not nearly the amount Ele feared. Taroo moved his hand for Ele to see. Burns carved shallow welts into his skin and formed five blackened spots in the shape of a flower. Ele knew the pattern well. It was the mark left behind by a Collector weapon, a sedation shot. If not for Taroo’s sheer size, he would be unconscious on the ground.

“Danger,” Taroo signaled and pointed.

Inside the shuttle were two boxes, small metal bins only just big enough to fit Ele in one and Taroo in the other. Ele had seen such boxes before, in the Collectors Exhibit.

Sachse barked about something. Ele recognized the words “I want my money,” “those damn animals,” and “fuckers.”

“I eat,” Taroo signaled and pointed to him.

Ele might have allowed it, but their ears tuned into the sound of The People. They could hear not just the sound of their voices but their footsteps again. Through the trees, the sparkling of lanterns shone like the glowing eyes of predators.

“Run,” Ele signaled back. “Run!”

This time, Ele did not sprint ahead of Taroo. The shot may not have knocked him out, but the pain dragged him down and his run turned to a stumble. Ele attached themself to his side, never letting him out of their sight for fear, if they did, they would never see him again.

They had wasted too much time with Sachse, and Taroo’s injuries prevented them from making up ground. The People closed in on their position, and the occasional shot from a sedation weapon told them Sachse had joined in the chase.

They pushed into the woods until two of the planet’s moons had disappeared beyond the horizon and the early morning hours approached. The heat of Taroo’s body, so near to Ele, brought them to a pant. They abandoned their cloak even in the bitter cold. The uphill path they had chosen wore down the muscles in Ele’s legs and strained their lungs. They reached the peak of a small mountain ridge, and the trees vanished and gave way to high stones and jagged rocks. From the top-most point, Ele could see for miles. The People approached from all directions.

Whether Ele and Taroo were struck by Sachse’s gun or by the blow darts of warriors, they would be struck soon. There could be no escape. Taroo knew it, too. He leaned and pulled Ele into his arms as if to say, “I will not let them have you.”

Ele pressed their nose into his hot skin and held him close. Over his shoulder, the blond head of Sachse appeared. Behind, they could hear The People.

They had to make a choice.