A cluster of purple shapes passed over its skin. They reminded her of grapes. That triggered a sudden, vivid memory of harvesting grapes in her father’s vineyard. She remembered the dusty sunlight, the rich, winey taste of the fruit. It seemed so far away now, as though it had happened in someone else’s childhood. Juna took another bite of the yellow fruit. Its intense sweetness, so different from the tart tang of remembered grapes, brought her back to the present.

The alien watched Juna intently as she ate. When she was finished it eased forward on the branch, holding out another fruit.

Juna took it from the alien’s fingers and tore off a piece. She held it out to the alien, returning the gift. A complex zigzag pattern flickered across the alien’s chest as it accepted the offer. It ate the fruit, then reached out again, fingers carefully curled, and brushed the backs of its fingers across the knuckles of her outstretched hand. The gesture seemed formal. It waited expectantly.

Hesitantly, Juna reached out and brushed her knuckles across the back of the alien’s hand. Its skin felt cool and moist.

The alien visibly relaxed. Rapid explosions of turquoise and azure flickered across its skin. Juna sighed in relief. She felt as though she had crossed a barrier, gaining the alien’s trust. It was a good beginning.

When Juna finished the second fruit, the alien got up and ambled to the end of the branch, beckoning her to follow. It bounded across a two-meter gap to the next tree. Then it turned and looked at her, flushing purple, its ears lifted.

Juna climbed as far out on the branch as she dared. It bowed under her weight. A wave of sick dizziness overwhelmed her. She looked across the gap at the alien, then down at the distant ground.

“No,” she said. “I can’t do it.” She shook her head and backed away from the end of the branch, her skin blazing orange with fear. What would she do if the alien abandoned her?