Sabrina
Darolus comes back deepinto the night, long after I’ve fallen into a fitful, hungry sleep next to the gross pile of dead bugs I can’t bring myself to stomach yet.
I may still get there… I don’t want to die here. I just can’t bear it yet.
It’s pitch black when the sound of his return wakes me, and I immediately freeze, only to slowly relax as he moves the boulders. He’s not going to do anything to me. If he wanted to do something, he would’ve by now, and he hasn’t. The past few days have proven what I originally suspected: he doesn’t want to hurt me.
I snuggle deeper into the tattered hide on the floor, wishing I’d gone ahead and stolen one from his bed earlier. But as much as I long for more cushion between my aching body and the cold, hard floor, I couldn’t muster the courage to do so. I’m afraid of taking anything I haven’t been given,lest his passive mood change toward me. He really didn't like the idea of being taken from.
But he told me I should tell him what I need…
He’s trying.
When I asked him about becoming friends, I’d done it to plead with him for real food, better food—anything other than the bugs—but after I said it, I realized… I think I meant it.
After all, I’ve had worse friends. And right now I need to survive.
Settling back into my blanket-mattress, I close my eyes, secure in the decision to stop fighting him. Hopefully there will be meat in my belly in the morning, and perhaps more for all the meals afterward. Anything,anythingexcept the black beetles.
Shuddering against the buried memories of my starving past, I fall back asleep with the phantom sensation of crunching those beetles between my teeth.
I wake up to the smell of blood and sunlight in my eyes. Squinting around, I notice several small cuts of raw meat lying on a new, flat rock nearby.
And next to them…. one of my knives.
Rolling up onto my knees, I snatch it to me and hug it to my chest. Darolus must have found it and brought it back… no,givenit back to me.
I feel so much safer, having it back. But I can’t tell if that makes me trust him more… or less.
Either way, I stick one of the meat slabs with the tip and bring it to my nose. It smells coppery and fresh—fresh enough for me to take the chance.
Glancing toward the beetles, I find them gone.
He must’ve gotten rid of them.
Dammit.I’ve lost my only other option.
I’m also completely alone again. Wondering where he went, I set the meat back down and get to work setting a small fire with some rocks, dirty hide, tattered cloth, and some metal piping I found. I eventually get a small flame going, and blow on it gently to fan it higher. Adding more cloth to the embers, it catches quickly, and I throw the chunks of meat in it. I don’t have much fuel, but I keep the flames going as long as I can and manage to sear the outermost portion of the meat.
Without wanting to throw any more of Darolus’s bedding into the embers for fear he’ll miss something, I let the fire die and the meat cool down, willing it to cook through in the residual heat. Lifting one of the pieces with my knife again, I bring it to my mouth and slowly chew off a bite of where it’s seared. Wincing through the nearly raw bits in the center, I slowly swallow it down, trying my best not to gag. By the time I’m through the third piece, I’m barely holding in the contents of my stomach. Shit, I hope I don’t get sick.
But I keep it down and I didn’t have to do it in front of the naga.
I’ll have to ask him for wood and tinder. Maybe a pot of some kind. With that, I can set up a small firepit from loose stones and use water to boil the meat in the future. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve cobbled together an ad hoc stove.
Then again… maybe today will be the day my crew comes to my rescue.
Shaking my head, I try to immediately temper down the hopeful thoughts before they get out of hand.
No one’s coming for me. Only Blat ever has, and that’s because it was his job as my partner.I haven’t been around twenty-nine cycles without gaining some common senseand rationality. At the end of the day, except for a lucky few with a lot of love and money, everyone is out for themselves.
Weston and the crew will be searching for me, sure, but only as they continue searching for something to trade with Mr. Whicker. When they don’t find any trace of me, they’ll leave. They’ll have to. It’s not likeThe Wreckhas enough supplies to begin with. If I’m hungry, they will soon be hungry too.
Three days. That’s how long I would look for a missing crewmate. It’s already been three days.
I rub my face wearily. My best chance now is making it out of here and getting to the forest where the rest of the ships have landed. Then trading my services for a spot on someone else’s crew. However long that takes…
With renewed energy and a plan in mind, feeling proud of myself for keeping the slimy meat down, I go about keeping busy.
