Seventy-six suns have passed since… I was starting to give up on the possibility of there being life outside of this cavern; then she appeared.
I barely noticed her at first: I wasn’t expecting this furry creature to suddenly hobble into the cavern in the dead of night. Though, as she made her way over to me, the rapping of her nails against the slick rubble left this impossible reality undeniable.
Crawling over to me, her tattered brown fur shook violently with each of her shivering steps. She was… is the complete opposite to how humans were described back on Ganymede.
I wasn’t sure what to do at first, I don’t even think she really knew how to react to me either, at least, that’s what I can assume from her tilted head and angled ears.
When she finally reached me she pressed her wet nose against my scales and broke the silence with an odd, low noise.
She rotated a few times and laid down next to me, resting her snout on my lap. Nudging my palm repeatedly she forced her head under my hand, I ran my hands through her thick locks. I hadn’t felt the warmth of another being since…
It’s almost like encountering a snyx for the first time, this human certainly seems to like eating Tomovakay as much as they do. She wasn’t very fond of it at first but, after a while she seemingly adjusted to its grainy texture and the phosphorus gelatine chunks. Now she just can’t get enough, I just hope she doesn’t figure out that it’s snyx food.
That was the start of many nights spent together eating Tamovokay and watching the wall of rushing liquid enclose the cavern.
Of course the lack of a shared language became an issue but, thankfully, we soon created our own form of communication composed exclusively of hand gestures and unique verbal cues.
Our relationship isn’t based solely on survival either; it has developed into one of love and respect as well. She is nicer than any human I was ever told about on the ship: she’s loyal, understanding and even comforting. She’s so comforting that I’ve taken to cuddling her on particularly cold nights.
She’s the best companion I could have ever asked for. Well… second best to you of course… That’s the real reasoning behind my growing desire to provide her with all that she could possibly want.
Everything is perfect: we do absolutely anything for one another. It’s symbiotic bliss.
It was symbiotic bliss.
Things have deteriorated since our last hunting trip: she has developed a disinterest in playing games, she rarely responds to my calls, and has stopped eating entirely.
I don’t think she has even opened her eyes in the last three suns.
I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong. I’ve been trying to reason but… she won’t even make those odd noises anymore…
What… what did I do?
I don’t want to… I can’t to be alone again.