She gives me a glance with a little glint in it. “I think you’re right, Aker’iz. He does his best.”
“Hm,” I growl in mock anger. “It sounds like you girls are talking about me behind my… well, my front, I suppose.”
“Maybe we are,” Dorie quips. “We’re talking behind your front. But it’s all nice things.” She puts her hand on top of mine.
“We’ll be here as long as you stay,” I tell her while my heart goes warm. “When you leave, perhaps we’ll leave too. Until then, we’re all safe here.”
“Thank you,” she says softly.
I let out a slow breath. I’m still holding Aker’iz with one arm and Dorie with the other, and for a moment the three of us breathe together while the ocean hisses.
Then Dorie’s breath wavers. Just a tremble, but enough. She presses her lips together and looks away, blinking too fast.
“You’re tired,” I murmur. “And the day has been long.”
She shakes her head. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can do with the ship. Every day I try. And every day I feel farther away.”
I shift Aker’iz against my shoulder and step a little closer. “That ship is stubborn like a wild rekh. You’ll tame it when the time is right.”
She gives a small, dry laugh. “Is it possible to tame rekh?”
“Nobody’s ever done it,” I admit. “But one must be the first. And I notice you have tamed a griket.”
She doesn’t pull her hand away from mine. She squeezes it instead.
Aker’iz lets out a soft chirp and nuzzles against my neck, half-asleep.
Dorie wipes her face. “We must put her inside while you cook. It getting cold.”
“Yes,” I agree, though the fire is warm and I’d carry both of them forever if I could. “She should sleep where she’s safe.”
We walk together toward the saucer. Dorie opens the door with a tired movement of her wrist. When I carry Aker’iz inside, the light changes from sharp to soft and there’s a gentle hum coming from the walls.
I place the baby in her pack and put her in the best place, surrounded by soft leather sheets and small furs.
“Kenz’ox,” she says quietly, “I’m sorry. I won’t talk more about the Borok tribe. I not even know if they are good.”
“We’re here,” I say. “We’re not going anywhere.”
I expect her to pull back. She doesn’t. She rests her forehead lightly against my chest. A small, tired sound escapes her, a sigh that speaks of many things that are hard to say.
Carefully, I put my arms around her.
She melts into me like a spront seeking fire.
For a long moment we just stand there, outside the ship, breathing each other in. Her fingers clutch lightly at my side.
“Kenz’ox,” she whispers. I sense the need in her, and it matches my own.
I brush my hand up her back, slow enough for her to stop me if she wants. She doesn’t. She leans into it. Her cheek turns into my chest; her lips graze my skin through the fur.
“I’m here,” I murmur again, my voice rough with everything I’m trying to hold back.
She tilts her face up toward mine.
I don’t move.
She does.
