It finds me immediately, as if she knew where I stood all along.
I go still, and for a moment, I forget the men behind me, forget my duty, forget why I am here at all. I meet her gaze, and something tightens in my chest.
I give her a short, controlled smile and force myself to turn away.
The crowd has thinned, but those that are left are very interested.
It doesn’t look like any of them are going to do anything silly, though.
I relax a fraction and think about what I’ll do when the women return to their caves and another tribesman takes over watching the stairs. Perhaps I’ll go outside the gate and see if the men from other tribes that have set up camp there have some new foods to try, or maybe there’s someone I can play krok with. I’ve beaten everyone in this tribe, so nobody wants to play. But at the same time, I must keep my distance. Those men aren’t there for fun. They know we have women, and they’re just waiting for a chance to abduct and marry one.
I turn back around and enjoy the sight of the women walking over to the new ‘windmill’ that will be used for some mysterious purpose. Well, those men—they won’t succeed?—
There’s movement off to the side. Young Vort’iz is walking towards the women with determined steps and his gaze fixed on them.
I walk fast to intercept him before he can get that far. He’s an impulsive and reckless young man, just four years beyond his Stripening. Whatever he has in mind now, I want to be close.
Sprisk notices too late.
Vort’iz reaches out and touches the dark-haired one. “Morgan, your hair,” he says in a hoarse voice. “Is it really?—”
I’m close enough to pounce, and I seize his wrist, pulling his hand away from her.
“We don’t touch,” I say quietly.
The yard goes silent.
Vort’iz bares his teeth in anger, yanking his arm out of my grip. “They are women. Aliens!”
I place myself between him and the women. “We still don’t touch. The chief has ordered it.”
He glares at me. “The chief is married,” he spits. “Who will get to marry these two new ones? If we are always kept away? Yes, I know you want it, Nator’ax, the blue-striped outtriber! But we all want it! And we are real Borok tribesmen!”
“Indeed you are,” I say soothingly, conscious that the women are watching. “But the women will decide who to marry, if they ever will marry at all. It’s their choice. The chief says so.”
He glares. “Their choice?! But they are two small women! We are a full tribe of big men! They should decide nothing!”
Sprisk leads the group further away, back towards the steps. “We’re done with the tour, I think.”
The woman who must be Riley gives me a long look and a little smile that lights up my mind.
“If you disagree with the chief’s decision, tell him,” I suggest mildly to Vort’iz. “But I have promised him that I will protect the women and that I will not try to abduct any of them. Would you make me break my word?”
“I wasn’t going to abduct her,” he mutters. “Just touch her and feel her softness. Smell her.”
“Well, don’t. Come, I will show you an interesting trick in krok…”
“Keep your stupid game, blue-striper.” He stalks away, rubbing his wrist and muttering to himself.
Around us, the tribesmen begin to move again, their voices low and uneasy.
The women are already climbing the stairs back to the Red Mountain, Sprisk urging them along. The pale-eyed Riley glances back once before she disappears among the rocks.
I tell myself that I am only watching because it is my duty to make sure they reach the stairs safely. But as the murmurs spread through the village like wind through dry grass, I cannot shake the feeling that I was more right than I thought about things changing. The whole tribe has changed. And it’s too soon to say if it’s a good change or one that will tear everything apart.
2
- Riley-
