crate, shivering in a thin white shift that barely covered her.
The monk quickly shrugged off his robe and handed it to me. I wrapped the oversized garment around her, then helped her step out of the shipping container she’d been locked in for God knew how long.
She was staring at the monk, and perhaps he was worth a stare. He wore a simple shirt with no sleeves and breeches that tied at the knees, but it was the swirls of darker and lighter grays in his fur that commanded attention. The eddying shades of charcoal and ash and cream created the subtle suggestion of broken stripes around his arms, legs, and shoulders. Even his face seemed to be striped without having obvious bands.
“Who are you?” she asked. Her voice was deeper than I expected, a dulcet tone that would likely mature into something smoky.
The monk bowed his head. “I am Eighth Tiger Xian.”
Tiger is the highest rank among the Felis monks, Paige told me. Her projected self didn’t move at all as she spoke inside my mind. There’s only ever twenty of them at a time. If this guy’s the eighth, you’re lucky to be alive.
“Thank you, Xian,” she said, hugging his robe tighter around herself. “And Link?” I nodded confirmation, and she turned to Paige. They were the same height, but I suspected Paige had done that on purpose. “You’re an AI?”
“I am. I’m Paige. What’s your name, sweetie?” How she managed to say those last four words without sounding condescending, I’ll never know. Had I said them, it would have come out like I was talking to a toddler.
“Alexa,” she whispered. Her large, indigo-hued eyes had just fallen on the mangled bodies of the men who had been there to take her. Take her where, and to whom, I very much wanted to know. Alexa’s gaze went to Xian’s hands, which were crusted in drying, dull-red blood.
“They will not hurt you anymore,” the big monk rumbled.