I stand there in my leather tunic, a little amused at how much work it takes for them to bundle up. Not even the humans are this bad. Chahm-pee nudges my hand, eager to go outside. I do not blame him—he is hungry and did not care for the food on the ship. I did not, either. He has eaten all the roots in my bag, but I do have more back at the village. If nothing else, I can pry a few from Stay-see, who keeps a well-stocked hut full of extra foods for her strange cooking projects. “Soon,” I tell him. “Be patient.”
He bleats at me.
I look over at Mardok, still handsome despite his strange cold-weather leathers. He finishes buckling on his gloves and glances up at me. Our eyes meet, and my khui begins to sing, and his ears darken with a hint of embarrassment, his focus suddenly going back to his buckles. I find it charming. He is so like—and yet so different—from the males in my tribe. He looks up at me again, and the heated look he sends my way makes my pulse flutter.
Not so different from any other male in resonance, after all.Wait until you get a khui, I think.Then you will know.This? This is nothing.
They are finally ready, and the wall of the ship opens up, letting in a blast of refreshing, crisp air. I suck in a deep breath, pleased. It feels as if I have been trapped in the steamy, heated fruit cave for far too long, and the chill feels bracing. I nudge Chahm-pee to follow me and head down the ramp.The others trail behind me, and I scan the horizon.
The herds that wander near the upper valley are nowhere to be found, of course. The roar of the ship will have chased them far away. It is utterly still, and after being on the ship, it seems almost too quiet.
“What the kef is that?” Mardok snarls, and I look around, pulling out my bone knife. The others will be slow moving in their strange leathers, so I must protect them like any good hunter.
But I see nothing—no scythe-beak, no snow-cat, no sky-claw, no metlak. I turn back to him, a question in my voice. It dies when I realize he is not looking around him, but staring hard at Trakan and Cap-tan.
“Look,” Trakan says, patting something belted at his hip. “Just a little precaution, that’s all. We don’t know that they’re friendlies.”
“They are mesakkah, just like us.”
“And wars have been fought by mesakkah against other mesakkah. Just having blue skin doesn’t make you a pal. You should know that.”
Curious, I watch as Mardok’s face grows cold. His expression is so awful and bleak that my heart hurts for him. What has happened? But he speaks again. “You’re not shooting anyone. This is a friendly visit.”
“And it’s wise to be prepared,” Cap-tan says, and gestures at me. “Even she is armed.”
Mardok looks over at me again, his gaze on my knife. His eyes are slits, and I cannot tell what he is thinking, but it is clear to me that he is not happy. He glares at the others in his party and then moves to my side, protectively. “Lead on, Farli.”
“Is all well?” I whisper to him.
“All is well,” he tells me, and there’s grim determination inhis voice. “No one will ever harm you while I am breathing.”
I chuckle, because he sounds so very determined. I love it. I open my mouth to speak, but I see something in the distance that makes me pause. It is a row of my people. They are too far away to make out most of them, but I see Pashov’s one lone horn, and Raahosh’s crooked ones. I see Aehako’s hulking form and the tall, proud stance of my chief. They carry spears.
All hunters. All males. No one else. And they are not approaching to greet us.
Oh no.
I can imagine the panic going through their minds. The last time a ship came, it tried to take away the humans. I scan the line of them again, and I do not see the fierce Leezh next to Raahosh, which means she has been told to wait below. I bet she did not like that much. “I should go talk to them.”
“Why?” Mardok asks, moving to my side. “Is everything all right?”
“They think you are the enemy. They are ready to protect their mates.” I turn and put my hands on Mardok’s shoulders. “Let me go and speak to my chief and reassure him that you are not here to bother us.”
“I’ll go with you. To protect you.”
I give him a curious look, pleased that he is so protective but puzzled as to why I need protecting from my own people. “Why?”
“To show that I am not the enemy.”
Because he is my mate? Thoughtful but unnecessary. “Let me ease their fears. Wait here. I will speak to them.” I turn to leave, and he grabs my hand. I look back at him, surprised, and there is torment on his face.
“I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other,” he says, voice low.
My khui begins to sing wildly, and I smile at him. “It will not be.” I squeeze his hand and then reluctantly let it go, our fingers dragging as we pull away, as if our skin is reluctant to let us part. I am relieved that he remains behind, though the look on his face is clearly mutinous. He does not want me to go. It fills me with warmth that he is feeling this despite not having a khui of his own.
Soon enough, I decide. A sa-kohtsk hunt must be done very soon.
I move forward to the line of my tribesmates, guarding the entrance to the gorge where the pulley and the rope ladder are. No one comes forward to meet me, which means they are more worried than I thought. “All is well,” I say when I am close enough. “I promise. They are not here to hurt us.”
