"The Last Human Child" @ Beneath Ceaseless Skies

Dahlia loved Brawnstone as much as she hated him.

He protected her. Provided for her. Cared for her like she was a glass flower. But it was her fault all those people had died.

Creatures. Whatever they were. Like Brawnstone, they were difficult to classify. Spliced, the humans called them. One had the shaggy golden face of a lion and the body of a large muscular man. Arsalean was his name, chief among the Elders.

Now as dead as the rest of them, thanks to her.

Brawnstone had taken her from her own people. Tasked with her capture and delivery to his masters, he had broken into the human compound like it was made of chalk. Smashed right through the wall, a stone monster breaking through reinforced concrete. Chunks of the stuff hit the floor, and dust enshrouded his features as he stomped toward her cot.

He had taken her away in her nightgown, tucking her under the enormous trench coat he wore, shielding her from the toxic rain.

It had not been a rescue.   

> Read "The Last Human Child" in the latest issue of Beneath Ceaseless Skies