A WAR AMONGST THE STARS

CHAPTER EIGHT

We walk together, the gentle alien patiently guiding me along with a hand pressed against my lower back.

As we make our way down the long hall, my tired legs move, my cold, bare feet taking slow, shaky steps, yet despite my struggle, there he remains, willing to lend me his arm so that I may hold.

Fortunate enough for me, I detect bits and pieces of his delicate words as they're spoken. "You __ this, __ one," his soft, encouraging voice speaks. There are a few missing words in which I am unable to understand, but somehow, I hear them within my mind, that soft, sweet voice echoing like the soothing sound it is. "You got this, little one," I hear him say. And I do. I do have this because I have you. To catch me if I fall. Every single time.

I stop to lean over.

With one hand rested on my knee, I attempt to capture my breath.

How out of shape must I be, to be panting after walking less than a mile? Even with our daily walks down our private hall, I have yet to gain back the endurance I once held and that bothers me, because at one point in time, I could outrun even the fastest of my brothers. I could outrun the guards chasing me after my escape from the last cell I was held captive in on earth.

"We will get there, soon,"she tiredly speaks within.

"I know. Just rest. Don't overdo it,"I encourage her.

"You, too."

"__ one? Are you __?" he asks. Heavily panting, I rise and stare up at him. His hand reaches out, caressing my cheek. "You __ good. I __ proud of you."

A smile of mine emerges. "Thank you," I speak within, a part of me wanting to tell him out loud, but too hesitant to do so. I know how to say it in his language. Long have I've been practicing his words beneath my breath when he wasn't paying attention. Icanspeak his language yet refuse to. Why don't I? What is stopping me? Is it fear?What could I possibly have to fear from him?

I realize that it is not him that I fear, but the questions he will ask. He will want to know me. He will ask about my life, where I come from, who I am, and what I have done to have gotten myself here. Questions that I do not want to answer, because after I do, I know he will regret ever taking me in. The villain who deserved to die back in that dark, cold cell.

He lifts me high, cradling me in his warm, loving arms. "I __ you, __ one," he assures.

"Don't ever let me go,"I want to tell him, yet I bite my tongue, holding off until I know for sure, that what we have is real, unfazed by what I am and what I have done.

Ahead walks the same three from before, and then him. The one with the horns that resemble a crown of thorns.

His hair... as he grows nearer, I'm able to see the true shade of his dark, shoulder length locks.

As the light from above shines down upon his long, straight black strands, a metallic purple glimmer is revealed, and it is beautiful. So mesmerizingly so that I am drawn to touch it, to feel its silky locks slip between my fingers.

Strangely, I am reminded of the color of the cold river back home and of the dancing, glowing purple and pink Northern Lights that reflected off the glassy running stream.

As a kid, after running away in the dead of night, I'd often find myself at the river, gazing upon my reflection. I'd be there for hours, never wanting to leave, never wanting to return home. And it was there where I would find peace away from my family. It was there where I would find the comfort I often felt so neglected of.

Seeing my face surrounded by the star's reflection in the water, well, it always gave me a sense that I was not alone. That even during the darkest of times, I had them. I had the stars and the night to make me feel strong. To make me feel connected and not so alone in the world.