She confuses me.
“I had never seen a sunrise until we landed.” She huffs out a breath. “I’d seen photos, but it’s different. Photos don’t capture the feeling.”
“Photos?” I’m not sure of the word. The whisperer in my ear translates most of what she says, but not all. I reach under the blanket and hold her hand. “Think it.”
“Think it how?”
“Tell me about a photo of a sunrise without speaking aloud.”
Skin to skin, I can feel her confusion, uncertainty, and curiosity. And beneath that, something darker that I can’t quiet reach, a secret she doesn’t want me to see.
Like a drawing or painting but taken with a camera, so it is an exact copy.
I see the device in her hand and see the image be captured.
An actual sunrise is prettier, and there’s something about it that offers hope. It’s a new day.
Not all new days bring hope.A bleak thought, but also the truth.I have seen some that I was sure I would not survive. Have you ever tasted death?
“I was trying to be nice in joining you for the sunrise.”
“And I’m trying to learn about you.” I lower my head and inhale against her skin.
“When the screamers attacked, I thought I was going to die, and then again when I realized I’d been captured by aliens.” She is silent for a couple of heartbeats, and I feel another thought rising. “The life support on the ship failed on the voyage. We were freezing and running out of air. We had to seal part of the ship.” She closes her eyes. “Some people, Sabine’s parents, and other people’s parents, sacrificed themselves so that we had longer to find a solution. With fewer people breathing, there was more oxygen.”
Some of her words I don’t know the meaning of, but I understand what she is saying. Her tribe made sacrifices, and it was those who wanted their children to have a chance that made that choice. Her family didn’t.
“That was the first time I realized how easy it is to die.”
“My tribe was raided by banished when I was ten. There were only four of them, and they were dressed in rags and desperate for food. Instead of giving them food, they were killed. I swore then that wouldn’t be me.”
“Why didn’t your tribe feed them?”
“Because they take food, then they take weapons, and then they take women. The banished are dangerous.”
“If they take women, doesn’t that stop them from choosing?”
“They are taken to the banished warrior’s tribe. She may not choose him, but he can return because he has bought his place. Or she may choose another of the banished and go to his tribe.”
“And what if she wants to go home? What if she had a mate?”
“We don’t take mated women.”
“How can you tell?”
“Their markings.” I lift my free hand so she can see mine. They don’t appear to glow in daylight.
One hand slides out of the blanket to touch the markings and trace the line and curls. “So these aren’t natural? You aren’t born with them?”
“No, they are made. They tell of my tribe, my family, my siblings on one arm.” I turn my arm so she can see all the marks. “This arm is about me, starting with my birth order. I am marked as fourth son for all to see. But it also notes my skills as a warrior and a hunter. If I was a third born, it would show my other skills like metal work or ship builder. I never got to learn because the banished don’t need to contribute to a tribe’s prosperity. The mark on my hand is my banishment.”
She runs her fingers over it. “How are they made? Is it like a tattoo where ink is pushed into the skin with a needle?”
“They are burned in and covered with copper dust. They help conduct the charge.”
Mia nods. “That’s got to hurt.”
“It does.”
