She comes out of the ship. “Kenz’ox? Are you all right?”
I don’t turn. If I look at her, something inside me might snap. Instead, I crouch by Aker’iz’s crib and lightly run a hand over her head. The motion steadies me. “You want to leave.”
“I want to find Callie. And Dex may be the only way.” Her voice is brittle.
“And so you will go to the Borok tribe,” I say as I slowly turn around. “And then to my worthless old tribe. I thought you wanted to stay here until the Plood ship worked.” My voice is steady, but only because I’m holding every word by the throat.
“I thought I could. I tried to be at peace with staying. I was happy here. With you. I still am. I don’twantto leave. But if Callie’s alive, I have to try.”
“You want me and Aker’iz to come,” I say. “So you feel safer? Or so you don’t have to meet strangers alone?”
“That’s not it.” Her voice cracks. “I want you with me because I don’t want to be without you.”
I shake my head, jaw tightening. “You want me to join a tribe again.”
“I want you tolook. To just… see if it could work. The Borok aren’t like the others. I told you. They’re fair. They’re decent. They’re brave. And there are women. Other little girls, too. For Aker’iz to play with. To grow up with.”
“They have achief,” I cut in. “The one you can’t stop talking about. Chief oftwotribes, no less. They have ashaman. They have men who obey without thinking, who let others decide their lives. Men who would set a small baby girl out in the jungle because she’s not like them. I have lived like that. I’ve had to kill because of that. I won’t do it again. Not even for you.”
Her face drops a little at the last words. “I wasn’t asking you to join them forever. I wasn’t asking you to… to bow to anyone.”
“You want me to move my baby into a strange tribe.” I gesture sharply with my chin. “But Aker’iz is safe here. With me. Withno oneto command us. No one to take her away in the night to kill her. No chief who decides if she is to live or die. No shaman who demands it. Here, she is free.”
“And what aboutme?” she whispers. “What if I have to walk to that tribe alone? What if something goes wrong?”
The wind whips her hair across her cheek. She doesn’t brush it away.
“You have your spear,” I point out. “I feel sorry for any Big that tries to attack you.”
“That’s not the same as you coming with me.”
I look past her, at the jungle and the bushes, at the slivers of sky above. Anywhere but her eyes.
“My place is with Aker’iz,” I say. “And her place is not in a tribe.”
There’s a long, aching silence. Aker’iz’s eyes blink open, then close again as I put my hand on her head and gently caress her, the way she likes.
Dorie closes her eyes. One stray tear escapes, sliding down her cheek. She wipes it away with an impatient move.
“All right,” she says hoarsely. “Then… then I’ll go alone.”
The words hit like a spear. I take a step toward her before I can stop myself. “Dorie?—”
“I have to,” she says, backing up a step. “Callie could be dying right now. Or trapped. Or… worse. I can’t live with myself if I don’t try to talk to Dex. Maybe he can’t help. But that won’t make things worse than they already are.”
A knot forms in my throat. I swallow hard. The words burn coming out. “Dorie… Callie is dead.”
She goes very still, eyes widening.
I force myself to continue. “I found her tracks. On the beach. The day after we arrived here. She was taken by a man. Aloneman. Not a tribesman. An outcast.”
Her face drains of color. “What?”
“Outcasts don’t take people to help them,” I say quietly. “They take them to kill them, and sometimes eat them. And finding awoman… I don’t want to imagine what they might have done. They are criminals driven from their tribes. Murderers. The worst kind of men, unfit to live with others.”
Her breath stutters. Then her expression hardens, twisting into something hot and sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I look down on her. “Because you were… broken. For days. You were so sad you could barely breathe. I didn’t want to take away the one hope you had left.” I drag a hand through my hair. “Maybe it was wrong. I don’t know. But I couldn’t do it. Not then.”
