Azdrei’in wondered what purpose Artemis had in keeping the bunny if it wasn’t meant to be food. He assumed she was planning to use it for something, since she had bothered to catch it and bring it into her home. As he held it in his hand, the small creature began to squirm, so he set it back down in its container. He was curious to find out what it tasted like even though she didn’t see it as a food source. Having lived his entire life on a spaceship, he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to hunt for himself. He and the rest of the Lunvalgan people had been living off supplemental meals that had been created by nutrition scientists to replace the meat they would have eaten on Ashad’te. The instinct to kill and consume his own prey still existed inside of him though, and he was eager to eat fresh meat rather than bland, artificial stuff from a lab.

When the human said something about food, he turned away from the bunny and watched as she removed a few slabs of meat from another large container. They looked like they had been stored from a creature that had been killed in advance, probably a cow since she had told him that was an animal her kind ate. Whatever it was, the sight captured his attention, and his mouth watered as she placed the cuts of meat on the table.

He understood the concept of freezing something to preserve it, so while a few of the words Artemis used didn’t register, he knew she was explaining to him that she had frozen the food so it wouldn’t spoil. It was her next explanation that was more difficult for him to grasp. He stared at her as she said something about the bunny and then proceeded to show him a video of her with a hairy, four-legged animal like the one he had seen near the pile of bags in the ruins. The only common word between the two phrases she spoke was ‘pet,’ but he couldn’t tell exactly what it meant based on the context alone.

Perhaps she had seen the blankness of his stare, because he didn’t have to ask her before she went on to explain herself more in depth. He found it interesting that humans ate more than just meat. It answered the question he’d had about the dulled shape of their teeth. They didn’t just have to rip and tear into their food; they also had to grind plants like herbivores did. Their diets were obviously more diverse than that of his own people, who dined exclusively on other animals to survive, and as she told him that she ate vegetables most of the time, he wrinkled his nose with distaste.

“I don’t eat vegetables,” he spoke the last word slowly, finding it harder to pronounce than the others. “Vegetables… are bad. I eat meat.” He was unsure if he was using every word properly, but he felt like he’d strung enough of them together to get his point across. Besides, she had probably already guessed his palate of preference since she knew his kind hunted their food. He had just wanted to make sure she understood the dietary difference between them and practice her language again.

Her explanation that she didn’t kill her food either baffled him. From what his elders had told him, meat tasted the best when it was fresh and the animal was young. If one waited for an old creature to die before eating it, it would be a bland, stringy meal. Only scavengers did that. Lacking the word to say so, he substituted with “Human are not predator” and presented her with a vision of an aged beast on Ashad’te collapsing into the grass, where it was surrounded by a pack of lenphe: small, six-legged creatures with leathery blue skin and jagged teeth that scavenged the carcasses of dead animals.

When Artemis introduced the word ‘friend,’ Azdrei’in finally grasped the meaning of ‘pet’ as well. It seemed like humans formed bonds with other humans as well as with other creatures, differentiating the connections with two separate terms. The bunny was an animal she had become attached to. He looked at it again, mildly disappointed with the realization that she wouldn’t be happy if he turned her pet into his dinner. It was probably for the best though. He wanted his first hunt to be a challenge, so scooping a tiny animal out of a box would be too easy.

Then she brought up the fact that he hadn’t killed her, and he turned back to her somewhat cagily. [i]Only because I did not have the chance,[/i] he corrected her silently. It was true that she didn’t kill—and that she was generally less violent than he’d expected a human to be—but he hadn’t let her live because he was planning to spare her. The smile on her face made him concerned that she had gotten the wrong idea since he hadn’t finished her off the instant he’d woken up.

At her question, he hesitated. While he was enjoying learning about her species, the fact remained that he was still under orders to kill every human he came across. His leaders hadn’t made any exceptions for humans who didn’t seem to have been affected by Strizin. Although, on the other hand, they may not have even been aware that there was at least one Earthling who was possibly immune to the virus. Absently, he touched the spot on his belt where he had kept his communication device. He would have informed the other Lunvalgans of his discovery if he’d still had it with him, but he had no idea where Artemis had put it. Until he got it back, he couldn’t tell anyone that he’d found a human who was still in good health and who didn’t act as savagely as they’d predicted.

“Human kill Lunvalgan,” he stated, stepping toward her slowly. He hadn’t wanted to tell her that he was still going to follow his orders so soon, but now that the subject had been brought up, he had to address it. “We are not too many,” he continued, attempting to describe their waning population on the ship, which was the reason why they were so careful to protect themselves. To clear up the point, he showed her a mental image of a large, nearly empty room with only a few of his people inside of it. “I kill human; human don’t kill Lunvalgan. Earth home.”

Stopping in front of her, he touched his finger to the side of her neck, tracing the tip of his claw against her fragile skin. He didn’t know enough of her language to continue discussing the topic, but he made up for the deficit by projecting feelings of distrust and urgency. He wanted her to understand that he didn’t think that he could let her live without repercussions. It was his duty to make sure that the rest of his people were safe on this new planet, and if anyone got hurt because he spared one human’s life, he would never forgive himself.

“You talk friend,” he said in a low tone, narrowing his eyes at her warily. “I don’t know not lie.” As he spoke, he held his hand against her throat and hovered warningly. The gesture was meant to intimidate, so she would know he hadn’t abandoned the thought of killing her, but a part of him was also curious to see how she would react. With his claws poised to dig into her flesh, he wanted to know if she would cower, become violent, or otherwise react to the confrontation.