Chapter 54: A storm.
GLANCING COVERTLY OVER his shoulder, Nigel eyed Pete. The alien reclined on his back, stacking two tentacles behind his head, appearing unbothered. The other four limbs crossed over his body, relaxed. Pete’s sense tentacle tapped his upper thigh, a soft, rhythmic thrum, as if listening to an inaudible song.
Rain, heavy and relentless, pelted the treehouse roof, a drumming crescendo. More degrees dropped, and Nigel wondered if he could see his breath, a wispy cloud in the cold air. He had to figure out how to make sure he didn’t get so cold that his teeth clacked. Dagerstanteens didn’t have teeth. Also, it had been a long time since he’d been able to regulate his body temperature.
Covertly, Nigel wrapped four of his tentacles around his torso, pulling them tight, then glanced at Pete again. The bloke looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, a serene picture of comfort.