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It bothered me immensely that I could not read her expression easily, nor could I ask her with words what she was feeling. It seemed wrong. Like I should have been able to comprehend her instinctively somehow, though I did not speak her language. My ears burned slightly, and I rubbed absentmindedly at my right one, as if by simply rubbing it I’d be able to make my own ear translate whatever words she used. Why did it feel like it had once been that way before? Like it had once been that easy?

Nothing’s easy now.

At the very least, I could slice some blasted fish. I crouched, cleaning and cutting the first fish on the rock, preparing raw slices in a way that felt like muscle memory. I could already taste the white flesh even though I could not actively remember eating it before.

“Come. Eat,” I grunted up at the little star. Now that I was growing more and more lucid, it felt a bit odd to keep referring to her as that. I wondered what her people called themselves. I wondered if she had a name, but found I had no way to ask.

When she didn’t move, I tossed a strip of the raw fish into my maw and swallowed, indicating that it was meant to be food. It tasted exactly the way I’d expected it to, which was both comforting and destabilizing. I jerked my snout towards the other pieces from the first fish as I began to clean and cut the other two.

Slowly, as if against her own will, she edged closer, peering at the sliced fish and watching the quick movements of my claws.

She said something. It sounded like a question. My inability to parse the words made my jaw tick.

“Eat,” I said again. I was finished slicing everything now, and I remained crouched and watching her.

She spoke again, and it sounded like the same question as before. But this time, she added hand gestures. She mimed rubbing two objects together, then threw her hands upward like two flying birds. I cocked my head, frowning and not having the faintest clue what she was trying to convey. She blew out a breath between tight lips then tried another gesture. She poked at the air then yanked her hand back, as if burned.

“You want fire?”

She pursed her lips and stared at my mouth as I formed the words. I grunted. We wouldn’t get anywhere trying to describe what fire was to each other. Better to show her and confirm that was what she’d asked for.

I strode back to the grove, peeling away several more sections of bark. The bark was very flexible and naturally followed the curve of the shape of the tree trunk, allowing me to slice and then roll the sections into small tubes of wood. I arranged them in a pyramid on a flat rock near the fish. Something at the back of my skull told me I had no ability to summon or control fire the way I could control water. There was someone out there who could do it, I was sure, but if they had a name I did not know it. Instead, I focused on the tubes of wood, holding my outstretched claws above them and using a small amount of power to make them vibrate against each other. Soon, a wisp of smoke floated upwards, curling into the bright sky. Small flames appeared and then grew larger as the tubes of bark caught.

I added more wood and bark, and soon the fire was crackling and strong.

“There. Is that what you wanted?”

She grinned, showing tiny white teeth, and nodded her head vigorously up and down in such a way that seemed to indicate the affirmative. A small rush went through me, a piercing satisfaction that I’d understood her, at least a little. That I’d made her happy in some small way.

She hurried to the river and rinsed her hands thoroughly in the water before returning and grabbing some of the raw fish and placing it on the flat rock directly beside the base of the fire. Within moments the thin strips began to sizzle.

So, she prefers her fish cooked. I can do that.

I ate more of the fish raw, preferring it that way, then brought the rest over to be cooked, flipping the pieces with my claws, not wanting her hands near the flames. Once the first two pieces had developed a cracked, golden crust, I removed them from the heat and let them cool in my claws before handing them over. The little star paused, glancing from my face to my hands, before taking a piece. Her silken fingertips grazed my palm as she did so, and that tiny touch made every muscle in my body wind tight. I watched her closely as she ate, studying the muscles in her delicate jaw, the way her narrow throat constricted as she swallowed. I could see her pulse there, river help me. Her skin was so thin I could literally observe the trilling rhythm of her heartbeat at the sides and the base of her neck.

By the skies, she’s breakable. It made me nervous.

She seemed to enjoy the fish at least, so that was something. I knew I was capable of feeding her and injecting at least a little strength into that ridiculously tiny body. After eating several helpings, she started touching her throat then pointing to the river.

“It’s water,” I confirmed. “You can drink it.”

Assuming her kind drank water at all, anyway. I went to the river and used my power to raise a spout of water to my snout, taking a long sip. It was clean and good.

Her mouth twisted, and she moved her head back and forth. She pointed to the river again, then to the fire, speaking rapidly.

“The water will put the fire out,” I told her slowly. She seemed to know about fire, but maybe she did not know that water would kill it? She seemed apprehensive about drinking water at all, so maybe there was no water where she came from.

Perhaps she wants me to put the fire out now... But then why touch her own throat and mimic thirst?

She started speaking again, pointing at the river then the fire, over and over again, and then miming cupping her hands above the flames.

Understanding dawned, and I felt like a fool. I’d told her that water would put out the fire, which she undoubtedly already knew.

She was asking for hot water.

“Cold water’s better,” I muttered, but I did not argue further. I drew a large bubble of water from the river then held it suspended above the fire. The little star watched in what seemed to be stunned silence, her eyes fixed to the orb of water above the flames.

I kept waiting for her to tell me the water was hot enough, but she didn’t. It made me uneasy, thinking of water that hot going down her throat. Maybe her skin was more durable than I’d thought.

The water had been bubbling steadily and releasing steam for some time before she finally indicated it was hot enough. I levitated the orb of water away from the fire, but she made no move to touch it. She mimed burning herself again and shook her head.

“What? You’re the one who made me get it this hot!” I said, frowning in confusion. The movement made the scar tissue of my left eye pull, and I grimaced. To speed up the cooling process, I manipulated the orb, making it into a very thin, flat rectangle of water that would release heat more easily. Once it had been suspended for some time and had no doubt grown tepid, the little star finally approached it.

She had no cup, and her hands would do a piss-poor job, I was sure.

“Just open your mouth,” I said softly, twisting my fingers until the water had transformed into a suspended spout, ready to pour into her mouth. She licked her lips, her gaze flickering between me and the water, before she opened her mouth and waited.

She’s thirsty. She just wants water.

I reminded myself of that as my cocks jerked behind my slit. There was something so softly submissive, so erotic about the way she’d opened her mouth to me, waiting for me to pour into it.

I focused all my energy on controlling the flow of the water instead of on the way the hidden place at my groin felt swollen and needy. Even with my intense focus, the flow of water was a little too much for her. Some of it gushed out of her mouth, coursing down her chin, throat, and breasts in shining rivers. The image of myself bent over her and quenching my own thirst by licking water from her skin with my forked tongue slammed through me so hard it felt like something that had come from outside my own mind. I pushed it roughly aside and clenched my jaw, praying to a god whose name I could not recall that she might be done soon.