A good hour passed before Morgan felt ready to drag herself upright again. “I have questions,” she said, one hand to her still aching head. “So many questions.”

Al tilted his head slightly to the right in a gesture that clearly meant “Go on”. Part of the Yellow Crest’s vocabulary was expressed as body language, including the raising and lowering of specific feathers.

The fact that Morgan now knew this as intimately as someone who had grown up speaking Yellow Crest fluently was… amazing. Or maybe she would feel amazement after her head stopped throbbing.

So, questions. She had a thousand of them and wasn’t sure where to start. What was one supposed to even say to an alien? First contact wasn’t a high school elective.

“This would have been a lot easier if you weren’t a being with a soul,” Al muttered before Morgan could dredge something up. “Then I could have just eaten you and been on my way.”

Not eating someone was a fabulous place to start.

“Being with a soul?” Morgan repeated in her own language, then shook her head as the meaning fell into place. “Do you mean, sentient? Velociraptors don’t eat sentient people?”

“Velociraptor?” Al’s crest of feathers rose in interest at the word. “No, why? Do you monkey-children?”

“I’m not a monkey. I’m a human. And no, we don’t. There aren’t any other sentient creatures on my planet.”

Al visibly relaxed, and Morgan realized he had actually been wary. The creature who could have sprung from a natural history museum—minus the bonus pair of wings—was actually a little scared of her. She bit back a half-hysterical giggle.

And he was staring at her as fascinated as she was at him.

“You look like a monkey,” he said. “I used to have a pet monkey when I was a fledgling, back on our planet. You don’t have the same feathers, though.”

Morgan’s brain briefly stalled out on the idea of a monkey with feathers. Maybe every creature had feathers where Al came from. “Your people aren’t from this planet, either?” She gestured around at the desert on one side, Earth-like meadow on the other. “What is this place?”

“We’re at the border between ranges.” Al lazily scratched at his neck with a hind foot and pointed with his snout toward the desert. “That’s a new range, or it will be, once the Makers fill in this section.”

“The Makers?”

“The ones who made this world, of course.” He looked at her. “Don’t you humans know anything? Or is this your first hunt away from your pack?”

“No, I mean... We were just dropped here. Two months ago I was a high school student on Earth. My planet. Then the—did you call them Makers? They kidnapped us and dropped us off here.”

Al’s crest half-rose—an expression of surprise equivalent to a human raising his eyebrows. “I thought this weird land had a new smell to it. So you don’t know anything?” He sounded disappointed.

“I was looking for other groups of humans.” She leaned forward. “It doesn’t sound like your people brought us here, but do you know how to contact the… uh, Makers? Can we go back home?”

“No one knows anything about the Makers. Only that they reshape the barren patches and drop beings with souls onto them. They added these knowledge transfer devices on the borders so separate species could talk to one another.”

Those quilt-like patches of land she had seen as the dome ship descended... “How many other species are there?”

“More than the teeth you shed in a year, I bet. The Elders in my pride spoke with all kinds. I never heard of monkeys—humans—like you, though. Makes sense if you’re new.”

“You haven’t seen any others like me around?” Morgan pressed. “That’s what I’m doing--I’m trying to find other groups of humans. We’re all a bunch of teenagers back in our village, and we don’t know what we’re doing...” She trailed off as Al’s body language shifted to one of negation.

“I’ve never heard of the Makers setting down more than one group per landmass. Sorry.”

Absurdly, hot tears prickled behind Morgan’s eyes. She had clung to the hope that there had to be other human encampments out there, somewhere. Maybe even one that had her father and sister (the odds were vanishingly tiny, but she couldn’t quash that tiny stubborn hope. If anyone could get onto an alien ship, it was her father.). Morgan looked away, blinking rapidly. “But you don’t know for sure.”

“How can anyone know anything for sure?” was his answer. “Are you male or female?”

“What?” She was briefly taken aback. Then again, why would an alien even assume? “Female. Why? What are you?”

Al’s top lip lifted to show pearly fangs. The equivalent of a smile. “Male, of course. Can’t you see the feathers?” He tilted his head down and Morgan obediently looked, noticing again small blue pin-feathers poking out of the crest of yellow. If those were just growing in then Al might be young, like her.

“What about you?” she asked. “What are you doing in the human’s territory?”

He stilled and all the feathers along his body dropped flat. “I guess I’m on a journey, too. I was looking for guidance from the—“ He made a slightly gurgled growling sound that Morgan’s new knowledge translated as a not-quite Yellow Crest word that roughly meant, “Stone Seekers”.

“Are they another species of alien?”

Al cheeped an affirmative. “They’re fat and they look like they would taste delicious, only they have souls, too,” he said with regret. “The Elders say they were one of the first people here, and have a knowledge of All Things. If you have questions, they have answers. They may not be able to tell you if there are more humans around, since your species is so new to this planet, but they should know if the Makers ever drop more than one group.”

That sounded promising. Maybe these Stone Seekers also knew how to contact the Makers. She could plead their case for getting the hell off this planet and back to Earth. “Do you know how to find the… the Stone Seekers?”

“Their range should be across the new land.” He gestured toward the desert. “What’s where I was going, before I ran into you.”

She hesitated, but this was the best lead she had. “Do you want company?”

* * *

She soon found that Al had a sense of direction every bit as accurate as a goose flying south for the winter.

They were traveling across the border to the direct southwest as soon as the first sun rose the next morning, but not before Al advised Morgan to stock up on some of the “Maker’s gifts”.

“The what?”

“The food that comes out of the machines. We passed one beyond the trees.”

“You mean, those alien cake-things that come out of the cylinders?”

Al bobbed his head. “Grab a few. The gifts are different for every range, see? These came from mine.” He dug into one of his pouches and brought a dry, orange mass that had a preprocessed look to it. “The Makers try their best, but they can’t provide everything that used to be on our old planets. The gifts make up for it. Our healers told us to eat at least one a month.” He tucked his portion away. “The Stone Seekers were the first to figure it out. Before that, people in our pride were dying from bad livers. They weren’t getting all the nutrients they needed.”

If nothing else, Morgan had just learned something valuable she could take back to Lucas and the others.

There was a cake-cylinder in the last meadow, just as Al said. She ate a cake right away--the taste hadn’t improved at all--and loaded up on six more. Good for a half a year’s worth.

I won’t be gone that long, she promised herself.

* * *

The longer Morgan walked along the dry featureless plain of the new range, the more she came to realize this wasn’t a desert. Even deserts back on Earth had life, when you knew what to look for. This ‘new range’ was, truly, like a blank slate waiting to be colored in. No mountains, not the slightest slope, and completely devoid of plants. Just bare packed dirt as far as the eye could see.

“How long will it take to cross this?” she asked.

“Seven days if we were traveling lengthwise, but we are only cutting across one corner. Two days at most. Two days is all I could stand,” Al added. “The water is supposed to taste terrible. When we come across an oasis, you’ll see.”

They reached the first “oasis” a few hours later. It was nothing more than an open, concrete pit. However, this water was filled with tiny popping bubbles as if there were a fish tank aerator on the bottom. Maybe to discourage algae. Absolutely nothing grew on the sides of the pit, like it would on Earth. It looked as sterile and clean as if someone came to scrub it every day.

Morgan stared doubtfully at it. “You’re sure this is safe to drink?”

Al, too, seemed hesitant. “It should be.”

She gave him a look. “Have you actually crossed over a new range before?”

“Well… No.” He didn’t quite look her in the eye. “But I listened to the Elders who have. They only said even the best swimmer would drown if you fell in one of these. So you can drink from it, but carefully.” With that, he crouched on the edge of the pit. His sinuous neck was longer than his shorter forearms. He used those for balance as he dipped his head over the side, the tail straight out for counter-balance.

The edge of the water was just out of reach.

“Al, wait.” Morgan reached for her backpack and pulled out a measuring cup she used as a bowl and a length of fishing line. She quickly tied the line to the handle and dipped it in.

The cup lost about half the fluid as she reeled it back up, but there was enough for a few mouthfuls.

Not taking any chances, she used the straw filter to suck it up. Even through the charcoal filter, the water tasted… flat. Completely void minerals. There was no life in it at all.

Al watched her with a bemused expression. She dipped the cup again and handed it over, hesitating at the straw. She only had one left and Al’s teeth were sharp. “This device filters water and makes it safe. Do you want to use it?”

“Not if it makes the water smell like that thing.” He took the half-full cup in his three-finger hands and tipped his open mouth back, pouring directly in. He made such a disgusted face at the taste of the flat water she had to bite back a laugh.

Still, they made sure to drink their fill before moving on.

As Morgan walked, her thoughts turned back to the human range (or should she be calling it a habitat?). Al said it was new, which meant it probably looked very much like this area not long ago.

The streams that ran through the meadow might be fed by underground pits like this. The water was somehow changed to Earth specifications, then pumped up to the surface.

The Makers had gone through a lot of trouble to make their land comfortable for humans. But why?

“Al, do your Elders know why the Makers brought us all here?”

Al swished his tail in the equivalent of a human head shake. “There used to be a lot of debate. Some thought we were being raised like Tallu for slaughter, or to take the secrets of a nest’s weavings. My dad used to say it was for an experiment, to show the Makers how we lived and managed the land.”

She almost smiled. “We wondered the same thing. It looks like a people-zoo.”

“Zoo?”

“On Earth, we place different animals in exhibits so we can learn about them and see their behaviors and stuff. No sentients,” she hastened to explain, twinging a little at the lie. There was always the question about chimps and dolphins…

“Do you eat these animals?” Al asked.

“No, we just wanted to learn about them.”

“It sounds like you and the Makers have a lot in common.” His tone was unexpectedly bitter.

“Well, what do you think all this is for?”

He was silent for a few moments. “In your zoos, did you let your animals mingle and talk to one another?” He continued when she shook her head. “This planet isn’t a zoo. It’s a battleground.”

She stopped in place, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

His feathers went flat all at once. She was starting to realize he did that when he was uncomfortable. “Let’s keep going. We’re making good time. We should be able to reach the Stone Seekers by tomorrow evening.”

“Al—”

“I don’t want to tell the same story twice.”

* * *

Al seemed to be a raptor on a mission. He walked steadily onward without rest.

However, his answers kept getting shorter and shorter through the heat of the afternoon, his mouth open and panting. His feathers clung to his body as if glued, except for his wings which he kept slightly extended away from the heat of his body.

Thanks to her human sweat glands, Morgan was handling the heat better… though she imagined she smelled terrible.

There was no shade here. Not a tree. Not even a large rock. Just a dry, dusty plain as far as the eye could see.

They made it to the next oasis just as both suns reached their zenith.

Al all but flopped at the edge of the pool, clearly ready to extend his neck down and hope for the best.

“Don’t you dare,” Morgan snapped, then redid her cup-on-a-string trick. She let Al drink first before taking her own sips. The water was disgustingly lukewarm. She made herself drink her fill. Then, pulling up another cupfull, she poured it over her head. That was a lot better. “Here.”

Instead, Al poured his portion on the ground. Then, fluffing up his feathers, he rolled around the wetted dust like a chicken taking a dirt-bath. Well, he knew what worked best for him.

After he was done, he looked at Morgan, head tilted curiously. “Why does the heat make your face red?”

“What?” Morgan put a hand to her cheek and pulled it away when she registered a slight sting. “Oh, damn.” She dug in her first-aid kit for a small tube of sunscreen.

Despite being outside all day, she had never gotten a sunburn in the human habitat. But whatever blocked harmful UV rays there wasn’t in place here.

“Let me guess: You don’t sunburn?” she asked wryly, touching her face and wrinkling her nose at the tight feeling around her nose. Yup. Definitely sunburned, and she didn’t even have a hat to keep the worst off her face.

“The suns burn you?” Al sounded horrified.

“Try running around without feathers. See what that does to your skin.” She added sunscreen to her arms, rolling up the short sleeves of her shirt past her bra strap. She felt his gaze on her and looked up to see him watching with fascination.

“Those are… weavings?”

“What, my clothes? Yeah, I guess. It’s fabric made from cotton. See?” She pulled the edge of her shirt out, surprised when the raptor touched it delicately with the tips of his claws.

He bent in close, the pupils expanding to peer closer. “The weave is so small. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s machine-made.” She flopped on her back, arm across her eyes. “I don’t know what we’re going to do for more fabric when the stuff we have wears out.”

“Hmm. Perhaps the Stone Seekers will have an answer for that, too.”

These Stone Seekers sound like the Wizard of Oz. Not a happy thought, but it was too late to back out now.

Al didn’t seem ready to move on, and Morgan was ready for a rest, too. Would be smarter to take a nap through the heat of the day rather than power through it.

Her drowsy thoughts turned back to the camp. She hoped Lucas was okay, that he wasn’t in pain or sick by now.

Even if these Stone Seekers can’t talk to the Makers, they might have medicine. Advice. Anything.

… She wouldn’t say no to a nice pair of ruby slippers to get her home, either.

* * *

Either they traveled really fast or the new range was narrower than Al thought. They reached the next border early the following morning.

Just like at the human habitat, there was a sharp line separating the two lands. One side was the empty desert, the other was a flat, ugly swamp with round stones poking up out of blackish water.

“This is where the Stone Seekers live?” Morgan asked doubtfully.

“I… think so?”

She gave him a sharp look. “You think so?”

Al shifted from foot to foot. “This is my first hunt outside my range.”

“Great,” she muttered.

No help for it. Morgan took the final step over the boundary.

It was the rough equivalent of stepping on an alien world.

Instantly, the temperature of the air plummeted at least twenty degrees. She took a lungful of pungent air filled with the scent of seaweed and rotting things.

Overhead, the sky was steel gray with threatening rain clouds.

The Makers have weather control systems, too, she realized.

Al stepped forward and visibly checked himself as the, cool, pungent air struck his face.

She almost felt bad for him. If she was smelling all this with her human sense of smell, who knew what he was picking up?

The look they exchanged needed no translation: Yuck.

The rocks that stuck out of the murky water were close enough together that Morgan could walk across them without getting her feet wet. Luckily, they weren’t overly slimy and her backpack was close enough to her body so it didn’t upset her balance.

Small insects, like brine flies—if brine flies had so many legs they literally covered their entire bodies—scuttled away from her shoes.

They’re more afraid of me than I am of them. I hope.

They’d only traveled about fifty feet when Al screeched and leaped straight into the air. Something that looked roughly like a starfish had wrapped itself around one of his toe claws.

His surprise made him fall into the thigh-deep water. He thrashed for a second and struck straight down with his hand claws. A moment later there were two halves of a starfish-thing where there had been one.

“Are you okay?” Morgan asked. She reached a hand down and helped haul him back onto a dry rock. He was surprisingly light. “Did it bite you?”

“It tried.” Al flipped one half of the starfish thing in the air and caught it in his jaws with a crunch. He licked his lips with a forked tongue. “Salty. Do you want the other half?”

“Ugh. Pass.” She had just arrived here and already could taste salt in the back of her throat just by breathing.

This was going to be a long walk.