THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

inside gave with a spurt of stinking gray-blue ooze that spewed out.
    The croggle thrashed hard, tossing me like a leaf, high and far, in an arc through the air.
    I slammed on my back, knocking the breath out of me. My lungs begged for oxygen. After a few seconds I sucked in air, head ringing and the rest of me feeling like a flattened bug. My body complained from head to toe, but I pushed up on my elbows in time to see the monster spasm again, glow bright then explode into blue flames.
    The high-pitched squeal of an animal in agony rolled on and on until the thing shuddered once more and collapsed on the ground with so much force I felt the blast in my chest.
    Scales curled back in the intense heat that blew away from the monster and rushed across the flattened grasses, scorching my skin just like the desert had earlier.
    That seemed years ago.
    Young voices started shouting in anger then a deep male voice boomed orders to back away and said something else I couldn’t hear.
    Probably the leader.
    But the monster was dead. A croggle, whatever that was. Within seconds, the thing turned into a bubbling mass of scorched skin and scales.
    I’d never get that acrid smell out of my nose. My head spun from the effort of pushing myself up. I let my aching head thud back to the ground, unable to force my body to move another inch.     
    Gabby started yelling and chaos erupted.
    I should move. Get to Gabby and Tony .
    Can’t breathe yet. Wheeze, pain, wheeze.
    Who were these people, all kids, and that older boy? A guy, I corrected myself. Anyone that powerfully built was no boy.
    But why did everyone sound so angry? The threat was dead .
    Thoughts skittered through my head. I coughed and pulled in air, breathing in short gasps, staring up during brief snatches of lucidity.
    Purple sky. Single red moon.
    No green streaks now.
    I closed my eyes, hearing a groan. Mine. I hoped Gabby and Tony were safe now that the croggle was dead.
    Quiet. Then footsteps marching toward me. That same deep voice I’d been hearing ordered, “Stand up.” 
    I opened my eyes. The violet-skinned leader’s face suddenly shifted into view. Hair, more gold than brown now, fell to his shoulders. Were my eyes playing games with me? His hair changed to multi-colored browns, grays, and burnt orange, all muted colors. Interesting.
    Different, but interesting.
    Brown and black straps that looked like leather crisscrossed his chest, if such a thing as leather existed here. Loops on the straps held dagger-type knives and flat metallic discs with jagged hooks. Throwing blades. He wore woven links of the leathery material around his waist like a belt that drooped over a short groin covering created out of a plum-colored tanned hide. A longer blade hung at his hip. Bold aqua and deep-blue designs slashed along legs of roped muscle that stopped at short, dark-gray boots with orange and green fur.
    Strange didn’t end there.
    His eyes were unusual, too. Almost too light to be human and they were first aqua then hazel...now reddish-brown and glowing with fury. I noted several of the kids with similar skin, but theirs changed as if shifting from camouflage colors to one shade of violet.
    Maybe I’d hit my head too hard. Again.
    The dark markings, graphics actually, on the leader’s skin remained fixed in place. I had a feeling that meant something significant about him.
    He repeated, “Stand. Up.”  But with more force.
    Hopefully, I could reason with him since I’d helped slay their monster. I forced myself to roll over onto my stomach and pushed to my knees then my feet. When I stood I had to bend my neck to look up at him.
    He studied me from the ground up, much like someone would observe a new species. Had he not seen a girl before?
    An idea came to me.
    Back when I first met Gabby, I’d thought shaking hands was a form of friendship. I dug through my brain for any help. I believed it was a sign of not being hostile so I took the risk of extending my hand.
    He ignored me, his eyes burning like hot coals when his nostrils flared in anger.
    I’d been sure that shaking was some universal sign of non-enemy, but maybe not.
    “Two hands,” the leader demanded, voice as grim as his face.
    I didn’t think I was familiar with this greeting . Then again, I don’t know what I do and don’t know . It wasn’t as though I could remember ever being taught protocols any more than I knew where I’d learned how to fight. And I definitely didn’t remember