Hunting Wolfe

Camp

As I trail behind the pair, I break the silence, "So, who are you? I mentioned my name, but you didn't really introduce yourselves."

"I apologize. My name is Jelsa." The femlander responds, her voice soft yet firm. She gestures towards the tall, enigmatic figure next to her, "And that, over there, is Meleke." Her finger points directly at the Martian beside her.

My curiosity piqued, I press on, "How dangerous is this place? I mean, for ten million credits, it must be pretty terrible. Am I right?"

"It's extremely perilous," Meleke replies without hesitation. "In the first hour alone, ten people lost their lives."

My thoughts whirl, grappling with the gravity of that statistic. "The first hour?" I echo, struggling to process the enormity of the danger.

Jelsa's tone turns serious as she continues, "This is not somewhere you want to be alone. That's why we came to find you when we heard you calling out. Thought you were one of the missing individuals."

"Oh, sorry," I say, my voice trailing off into the ambient forest chatter. We continue walking, each footstep crunching softly on the carpet of leaves, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth. Tall, ancient trees stretch endlessly around us, their gnarled branches intertwining like old friends locked in silent conversation. It's as if we are moving through a living cathedral of green and brown, each rough barked trunk a silent sentinel of time and nature. Suddenly, the burbling whisper of running water reaches my ears, its serene song a stark contrast to our silent journey.

Ahead, flickers of orange catch my eye. We draw closer, the scene unfolding like a carefully painted canvas. A great fire crackles in a circle of smooth, grey stones, a charred creature spinning slowly on a spit above it, the scent of roasting meat mingling with the forest's natural perfume. Two hammocks swing gently between the trees, constructed from woven vines, their earthy green strands blending seamlessly with the surroundings. To the side, a small hut stands, its walls an intricate tapestry of branches and interwoven grasses, a hand-wrought haven amidst the wilderness.

"Here it is... our home base for the next couple of months or so," Jelsa's voice breaks through the tranquil picture, grounding me back to the reality of our mission.

A short, dark-skinned man emerges from the hut, his gaze piercing as he strides towards us with purpose. There's no mistaking his human features, his keen eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Who is this?" he demands, his tone edged with disapproval. "Why have you brought her here?"

"Her ship was shot down. She needs help to find her friends," Jelsa replies, her words steady and resolute.

"And you thought it wise to bring her here? What if she's lying to you?" His skepticism is palpable, cutting through the air.

"That's what I said," Meleke chimes in, his agreement almost a whisper compared to the tension in the air.

"Relax, Keplan. We saw the escape pod," Jelsa reassures with a calm certainty.

Keplan remains unconvinced, his voice rising slightly, "And you feel like that's enough information? How do you know she isn't from a rival team, here to spy on us and report back? How do you know that was her escape pod? What if it belonged to someone else; to someone she killed?"

Jelsa's eyes harden, a cold determination replacing her earlier calm. "If she turns out to be a spy, I'll personally shoot her. Okay?"

Keplan hesitates, then grumbles, "Fine," before retreating back into the shadows of the hut. The tension lingers in the air like an unspoken threat, but the camp around us resumes its quiet, rhythmic pulse.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a Da'bale darting out of the forest to my left. It races towards the lifeless creature turning slowly on the spit over the crackling fire. The Da'bale circles the fire a few times, its movements a blur of energy, before hurtling towards Jelsa. Its voice, a high-pitched trill, breaks the quiet, "Pretty sure the meat is done."

Jelsa looks up, her eyes narrowing as she assesses the roasting beast. "Alright, I'm coming," she calls back. Turning towards me, she adds, "New girl, come with me."

"Rayanna," I correct softly, my name almost drowned by the sounds of the bubbling juices from the meat.

"Yeah, Rayanna," she echoes, with a hint of impatience tinging her voice. "Come help me. This thing's too big to handle alone, and here, if you don't work, you don't eat." Her words are edged with the rough practicality of survival, each one a reminder of how difficult life is out here.

As we slowly draw the charred beast from the crackling flames, the air becomes saturated with an intoxicating aroma, rich and savory, filling our senses completely. I cast a glance toward Jelsa, my eyebrows knitting together in curiosity and bewilderment. The question slips from my lips, imbued with both wonder and hesitation, "What is it?" The creature before us is a marvel of the fire's cruel artistry; its skin is crisp and blackened, bearing the marks of intense heat. A delicate trail of smoke curls upward, teasing my nostrils with its foreign scent.

"A Jentilk," Jelsa responds, her tone casual, as if she's stating the most obvious fact in the universe.

I press further, the name stirring no recognition in my mind. "A what?" My confusion only deepens, the word echoing unfamiliar in my ears.

"A Jentilk," she repeats, her explanation frustratingly brief, leaving me to piece together its meaning.

My frown deepens, the name still a void in my understanding. "That doesn't tell me anything," I admit, frustration seeping into my voice.

From the shadows, a high-pitched voice cuts through the uncertainty. The Da'bale, a small creature with knowing eyes, steps closer, its gaze sharp and inquisitive. "You are from Earth, right?" it asks, its tone probing as it studies me intently.

"Yes," I confirm with a nod, my thoughts racing to grasp the unfolding situation.

A slightly amused smile plays on the Da'bale's lips. "It's similar to an Earth pig," it explains patiently, its voice poised as if waiting for understanding to dawn upon me.

Slowly, the revelation sinks in like a long-lost memory resurfacing. "Oh," I murmur, the realization finally striking me. The Jentilk, now resting on the makeshift spit, appears as a strange yet oddly familiar sight—a curious blend of the known and the alien merging into one entity.

"Let's eat." Jelsa says, "Thenwe will sleep, and in the morning, we can do some searching for your friends."