Once Sammy, the doctor, stuck him with the needle, he felt a sharp pain in his hip once more.
He cried out in pain and clenched the sides of the bed he was in.
Sammy gave him a sympathetic look.
She was striking.
At first, it was her height that caught him off guard—easily 6’9”, she towered over him, her movements smooth and controlled despite her size.
A white medical coat draped over her frame, hiding most of her build, though it still clung just enough to suggest a powerful muscuture underneath—built not for show, but for survival.
Her strength was subtle, almost hidden by the professional calm she carried.
What truly caught his eye, though, were the features that marked her as something other than human.
Her skin was a pale gray, soft and luminous under the sterile lights, like mist on stone.
Perched atop her head were a pair of cat-like ears, twitching slightly as she moved—alert, listening.
They were covered in short, soft-looking fur, the same hue as the long feathery tail that swayed gently behind her, its movements instinctive, graceful, and strangely calming.
Her vender hair shimmered faintly, pulled into a high ponytail that swung behind her as she reached up into a shelf.
A few strands had escaped and framed her face, which was focused and intelligent.
She wore thin circle gsses that sat comfortably on the bridge of her nose, catching a glint of light every time she tilted her head.
There was strength in the way she carried herself, but it wasn’t threatening.
It was purposeful. She moved like someone who had seen danger but didn’t flinch from it.
Her expression remained unreadable, calm, eyes flicking between bels with medical precision.
There was a kind of gentle authority in her—like a storm wrapped in silence.
And Adam realized, as she pulled out a clipboard and turned slightly in his direction, that she hadn’t even really looked at him yet—hadn’t judged him, or feared him.
She was just… doing her job.
Focused. Professional. Strong.
And despite the pain radiating through his limbs, Adam found himself quietly studying her, caught off guard by how alien—and yet oddly comforting—she felt.
Elvis seemed to like her, so he trusted his cat.
Sammy then said, “Yamate uwesu shukibe nebe fajine den ern cupu nof minubun’s, yama curo pukili yamate satant’s oup noshiwu”.
He looked at her in confusion and couldn’t understand her.
Sammy realized it and said, “Antano war.” She then made a motion to pull up his pants, pointed to his hip, held a thumbs up, pointed to the clock, and made a small motion.
He got the gist and nodded.
He sat up a little bit and pulled up his pants, also petting Elvis, who was purring.
Sammy seemed like she wanted to pet him, so he said, “Go ahead, you can pet him.” he got a confused look and ughed.
They both forgot that they couldn’t understand each other.
He picked up his cat and held him out to her.
Sammy almost jumped up and grabbed Elvis, saying, “ Sushino ern katawi iketumon ihrwashiho osu!”.
She put him on her shoulder and started to pet him, saying “Erit’s seduu yasokat”.
Sammy’s eyes were all sparkly while she petted Elvis. She did seem to like him, and it was fun to watch as Sammy pyed with him.
Since he was so occupied by the pain and the situation, he forgot about what he was supposed to do.
He wanted Yazmina back so he could ask more questions, but did not know how to convey to Sammy that he needed Yazmina.
He made a noise to get her attention.
She picked up Elvis and approached him, he pointed to his mouth and said, “Hey”.
He then pointed to the door and kept talking.
She crouched slightly, her feathery tail flicking once behind her as she carefully pced the small bck creature—Elvis—down beside the cabinet.
Her sharp vender eyes scanned Adam’s injured form with silent curiosity, then flicked toward the doorway as if sensing something beyond it.
Her ears perked, rotating slightly like radar dishes picking up an unfamiliar signal.
Then, with a low, melodic tone, she muttered something in her native tongue:
“Nanati sudo yama washiho?” The phrase meant nothing to him, but the way her brow furrowed slightly, and how her gaze darted between the door and him, suggested she was thinking—perhaps questioning what to do next.
She straightened and adjusted the sleeves of her white coat with practiced ease, then suddenly snapped her fingers and tilted her head, her ears standing upright.
A spark of realization lit in her vender eyes.
“Ohhh yama shiliwi ern toyakuto, um ihr into shiliwi taruto yama into Yazmina,” she said aloud with a nod to herself, her voice full of a soft confidence.
Adam caught the sound of "Yazmina" and instinctively nodded, though he had no idea what the rest meant. Still, the tone was reassuring.
Then, without warning, she stepped toward him, and before he could ask anything, she reached down and—effortlessly—scooped him into her arms.
Like a princess.
His eyes widened, and a sharp blush bloomed across his cheeks. Her arms, surprisingly gentle, wrapped securely around his smaller frame.
He had always known he was on the leaner side, but in her grip, he felt utterly weightless—like a doll in the hands of a warrior.
The motion was smooth, unhesitant, and deeply disarming.
She turned, tail swaying gracefully behind her, and nudged open the heavy metal door with her shoulder. The hallway beyond was bright, and just outside stood a uniformed guard, stern and alert.
The guard's gaze flicked from Sammy’s face to the human-like form in her arms, his expression tightening.
“Yohi! Noh churosen’s dater into tamopen kanim kohere,” the guard barked, his words clipped and stern.
Sammy responded with a bright smile, her ears twitching with amusement rather than concern.
Her voice was cheerful, almost teasing, as she replied,
“Oh, kudarai kan’s ansazen towith mun. Ihr deeminaned kanim muhaleness.”
The security guard seemed to ponder for a moment, then said hesitantly, “Um, wiyo isece yamata ern ishado ihr shiliwi sate kotche suraid, becashi moshi kan gera’s sotu. Erit was non yama”.
Sammy breathed out as if relieved and said, “Tarigano! Soan ihr yakumisen shiwa shiliwi nai nebe kigota logasan”.
He was amazed by the nguage; it reminded him of how japanese was pronounced.
The security guard stepped aside and closed the door for them.
He had Elvis in his p as Sammy carried him; he was fascinated by the corridors and colors of the pce.
“Quite colorful,” he mumbled.
They then turned down a more crowded hallway, and he started to get strange looks and heard “Wa soche noh arian” and “doyoha wikoyod”.
Adam could feel the weight of the stares as they moved down the hallway.
It wasn’t the kind of gaze you get from curiosity—it was heavier, ced with judgment and wonder, fear and fascination.
Even if he didn’t understand their words, their eyes spoke volumes.
He was the anomaly here, an outsider caught in the wrong pce at the wrong time.
Sammy seemed unfazed, walking confidently with him still in her arms, her long tail brushing against the walls with every step, and her coat billowing slightly with her graceful but powerful strides.
They turned a corner, and she gently pushed open a set of frosted gss double doors into a quiet office space.
The lighting was warmer here, softer, and the sterile scent of medical chemicals faded into something more herbal, maybe floral—comforting, almost like incense.
Behind a simple desk sat Yazmina, her nose in a stack of digital reports projected in midair. She didn’t look up right away, and her voice was low and firm as she greeted without gncing over:
“Coru Den.”
Sammy let out a small breath, shifted her arms, and carefully set Adam down so he could lean against the wall.
His legs were shaky, and he gritted his teeth as he adjusted to standing again.
The moment Sammy turned back and shut the door, Yazmina finally lifted her head—and her eyes widened.
She let out a gasp, her chair sliding slightly as she stood halfway.
“Yama batu! Kan shiliwi sotepou into tastaru sokohe!”
Her voice was sharp with arm, perhaps scolding or surprised.
The tone made Adam flinch slightly, not from fear, but the way she looked at him was like someone had just walked in
wearing a ticking bomb.
Sammy rolled her eyes with the weariness only siblings could express and waved a dismissive hand.
“Ugh, wiyo yama dater nai sokohe, ihr curo nai sehapensu English soan kan washihoned ern toyakutor.”
Yazmina sighed, then gnced at Adam with a sharper gaze and switched tongues—
“What can I transte for you? Since my sister decided to risk your life coming out here.”
The way she spoke made Adam feel instantly put on the spot. His brain scrambled for the right words, suddenly hyper-aware of how small and strange he must look to them.
“Umm… well… I?” he started, his voice trailing like a confused echo in the room.
Yazmina raised a brow, unimpressed. “Well? What is it?”
He straightened up slightly, the edge of pain still pressing into his side, but he forced himself to sound clearer.
“I wanted to ask some questions. Like… why did you capture me and not anyone else? Also—”
he paused and looked at Sammy, who was now fiddling curiously with a puzzle cube from Yazmina’s desk—
“please thank Sammy for helping me. And… what were those snake-like dragons I saw flying when I was brought here?”
Yazmina blinked, absorbing his words. She then turned to Sammy and said smoothly,
“Kan luya’s tarigano.”
Sammy answered without looking up from the toy, “Oshiell kanim ern shitte yamata welishhemasu.”
Yazmina turned back to Adam, her tone more rexed.
“She says you’re welcome. As for your other questions… I don’t know why it was just you. What happened to the rest of your group? And the creatures you saw are called Sorhebi. They are life long companions."
Adam’s expression softened. That word, lifelong companions, tugged at something in his chest. It reminded him of Elvis.
He nodded slowly.
“Some of my group escaped. Some didn’t… make it. Do you have search parties? I mean, for the ones that got away?”
He wasn’t just asking to ease his mind. Every answer gave him insight into how Bishingo’s systems worked—how they responded to threats, how quickly they moved.
He needed this knowledge, whether these people would cooperate or not. Yazmina pursed her lips and tapped her pen against her pad. “I wouldn’t know myself. But I can ask my boss if you want to know.”
Then, with a tilt of her head,
“Anything else?”
Before Adam could speak again, Sammy suddenly stopped fiddling with the cube and stood up straighter. Her ears twitched as though picking up a sound no one else heard.
She looked at Yazmina and said with a strange alertness:
“Sudo yama kenth Landon shiliwi site mun mishu kanim soanoden.”
Adam’s ears caught it—yama, again. He’d been hearing that word a lot. Yama… and yamate.
Maybe it meant “you”? Or “your”? He wasn’t sure, but he was paying attention.
Every phrase, every twitch of their ears or flick of their tails added yers to his growing understanding of this pce—and the people in it.
Yazmina seemed to become sarcastic as she said,
“Holltoy? mohette funoshi akining kan soche qishimon. Sudo yama holltoy kenth kan’s golkuning into sate Adam waruku mawand”.
He perked up when they said his name, becoming more interested in why they were talking about him.
Elvis, who was lying besides him, got up and went to Sammy again. Sammy picked him up and said,
“ Owa, owa katen amaite hatalk kanim, shiwa allum noshiwa doyohu okumu kan liniken’s yama”.
Yazmina began to get defensive and said
“Nanati! Soche’s kurice, kan was antano bosu, nanwatever Ihr shiliwe giku kitsu oshass norta yama”.
She then went to grab her phone, fascinating him, he mumbled, “Interesting, I did not know you all had phones. I wonder how advanced your technology is”.
Yazmina went out of the room and called somebody. He looked at Sammy, who was pying with Elvis, and then, out of curiosity, he said, “Yama?” pointing to Sammy.
She said back to him, “Mun,” pointing to herself, then pointing back at him, saying, “Yama”.
He felt like a little kid did when they got ice cream; it was quite exciting to learn a new word.
Yazmina shortly came back in and said to Adam, “Well, Sammy here wants to show you around, so I will be transting for her while we do this”.
She seemed annoyed, but he paid no attention to it; he did not mind being shown around.
His legs were feeling better, but he preferred to be carried; he just liked it, which was weird, but he then told Yazmina,“ Yeah, my legs still hurt. I was wondering if Sammy could carry me?”.
Yazmina gave an amused look and said to Sammy, “Kan washiho into nebe hacarbened, kan sitta kanis ashile kizuhut”.
Sammy looked confused and said
“ Wikyod, noh medkusu shukibe nof hawaked, demoni, oshiell kan Ihr shiliwi”.
Yazmina gave a small nod, the kind that carried a quiet sort of finality.
“She said Sure. Other than that, I can carry the cat,” she added casually, walking over to Elvis and scooping him up with practiced ease.
Sammy, still standing by the desk, tilted her head slightly with a pyful smirk aimed atAdam.
Her vender hair shimmered in the soft office lights as she bent down with surprising gentleness.
Elvis was on Yazmina's shoulders.
Sammy’s sage eyes flicked back to Adam with a knowing gleam.
Adam had a sinking feeling that she could see right through him—through his nervousness, his comfort, maybe even his thoughts.
She didn’t say anything, but the amused little quirk of her lips said enough. He swallowed the lump in his throat and lowered his gaze, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.
She reached out and, without hesitation, lifted him again—her long, strong arms cradling him easily against her chest like he weighed nothing.
The contrast between the warmth of her coat and the cool clinical air of the office sent a shiver down his skin.
Her hands were firm, steady, and rge enough that his entire side could rest against just one of her arms.
As he adjusted and got comfortable, Adam risked a gnce upward.
Sammy was looking down at him, her soft vender bangs falling slightly over her forehead.
Her sharp, feline pupils seemed to narrow slightly with amusement, the long coat she wore fring as she went besides the door waiting on Yazmina, and her plump, feathery tail swayed in rhythm behind her.
He gave a small, nervous chuckle, trying to break the tension he felt in his chest.
She didn't ugh, but her smile widened just a bit.
Yazmina, meanwhile, walked over to her desk, securing her files with a flick of her fingers across a glowing interface. She gave a short nod toward the door and stepped out first, keying the lock behind her. The door sealed with a gentle hum, and the hallway lights outside flickered slightly.
Yazmina turned to him as they walked side by side down the corridor.
“First, we’re gonna go—” she started to say, but her voice was suddenly swallowed by a rising wave of static in his ear.
Adam blinked, confused. A low, crackling sound began to scratch at the edge of his hearing, almost like distant wind hitting an old radio.
Then, beneath the static, came a voice—fragmented and distorted.
“Hel…lo… Ca…na…da… Hello? A…Adam, are y-you there?”He froze. That voice—he knew that voice.
Annaliese.
His heart stuttered, a cold shiver trailing down his spine that no amount of warmth from Sammy’s arms could soften.
His mouth went dry as the implications hit him like a truck.
The earpiece—they must’ve activated it before deployment. It was still working. It had picked up her signal.
Annaliese was calling him.
His pulse roared in his ears, louder than the static. If she’s calling… she knows something’s wrong. And once she finds out what happened…His mind spiraled.
The crash.
The loss of personnel.
His silence.
There were protocols, yes—but none of them accounted for this.
Annaliese was not a passive leader.
She was a woman of precision and force. If she knew he had been taken—or worse, if she assumed he had been killed—then it wouldn’t matter if Bishingo was peaceful or not.
She would respond. And it wouldn’t be with diplomacy.
War.
His stomach twisted. She’ll wage war on Bishingo. Sammy seemed to notice his shift.
Her brows furrowed slightly, ears twitching again as she looked down at him. He didn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t. Everything around him blurred—the white lights, the cool metal of the walls, even Yazmina’s voice, which sounded like it was underwater now.
That one transmission had just changed everything.
The world around him faded. The hum of hallway lights, the faint shuffle of Yazmina’s boots ahead, even the rhythmic sway of Sammy’s footsteps—all of it drowned beneath the low buzz of static still crackling in his ear.
It felt as if a bnket of silence had dropped over his senses, muffling the sounds of Bishingo and isoting him in this single moment.
Then her voice came through, clearer this time.
“Adam,”
Annaliese said, her tone sharp and controlled, “we’ve tracked your signal. Listen—I'm sending a message to the Base they are keeping you at. They’ll receive it within the hour.”
Adam blinked slowly. He replied with a hushed voice,"good", indicating he’d heard her.
“We’re unching a decoy shuttle,”
she continued. “It’ll appear to be a recovery team. But our real retrieval unit will be deployed with infiltration protocols.
They’ll nd outside sensor range, infiltrate the facility, extract you, and gather intel. Hold your position. Don’t draw attention.”
A chill settled in his chest .
He swallowed, suddenly aware of the soft sound his breath made and the steady beat of his heart. Sammy shifted him gently in her arms, and his body tensed.
Her fingers had curled slightly around his side—strong but gentle, the curve of her palm just beneath his ribs, the heat of her body warming his back. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing and the subtle tickle of her feathery tail brushing against his leg as she walked.
It made him hyper aware—painfully so. He shifted a bit, trying not to squirm as he pressed his lips close to the inside of his wrist, pretending to adjust his position.
In truth, he was whispering.
“They captured me during the nding,” he murmured so softly only the mic would pick it up. “No signs of aggression so far. I’ve been treated well. Injuries are minor—sprained wrist, bruises. One doctor—Sammy—is very strong. Yazmina is the transtor.”
Annaliese’s voice returned, a little crackle behind each word.
“What’s their structure like? Security? Technology?”.
“Security seems tight. Automated doors, personal IDs. They speak a native nguage like you said—but Yazmina knows English. Some kind of military hierarchy. They kept my cat with me, so... not hostile. But they’re organized.”
He gnced at Yazmina’s back ahead of them—her dark hair bouncing slightly with each step, hands tucked in her uniform pockets.
He had to be careful. He tucked his chin slightly, breath ghosting across his fingers. “I don’t think they know the shuttle was a recon unit. Don’t think they suspect me yet.”
“Good,”
Annaliese replied. “Keep gathering info. When the decoy nds, stall if needed. We’ll pull you out quietly. Stay in character.”
Yazmina had been fair.
Sammy had carried him.
And yet here he was… preparing to betray their trust.
He exhaled slowly. Then, Sammy shifted again, one of her fingers brushing too close to his waist. He let out a tiny, involuntary gasp, and her ear twitched at the sound.
She gnced down at him with a confused look. He turned red instantly and quickly looked away, flustered.
Was she teasing him?
Did she know?
It felt like she did.
He tried to refocus, but the combination of the voice in his ear and the warmth of Sammy’s grip around him made it almost impossible.
Annaliese’s voice came again, quieter now, almost an echo.
“Stay smart, Adam. And stay alive.”
The static fizzled out. Silence returned. And he was once again just a small human, curled in the arms of a towering alien doctor with a feathery tail and unreadable eyes.
His thoughts raced.
Authors Note
Every chapter from here on out will be posted once a week on Wednesdays. Every other week there will also be a bonus chapter expining some of the world buidling and lore behind this.
(There are TONS)
Expect the first bonus chapter this weekend (02/14/2026) About the nguage the Kenos speak.Called Shanese
