by Ruby Dixon
If we have any hope of getting back to the ship, he can’t sleep.
After what feels like an eternity, Rokan is finally out of the hole. He rolls onto his back and sprawls on the snow, exhausted. I crawl over to his side and brush my fingers gently over his scalp, looking for the wound while he rests. It’s not hard to find - there’s an enormous lump on the very top of his head, and when I touch it, my fingers come away bloody.
My poor Rokan.
He reaches up and touches my cheek, then gestures. You okay?
I want to cry. I’m fine, I sign back. Can you walk?
I…try. His hand flops back down to the ground, as if he’s too tired to say any more than that. It’s like a dagger in my heart, and I hold my breath as he struggles to sit up.
After a few moments of this, it’s clear to me that he’s not going to be able to stand without help. I move to his side and loop his arm over my shoulder and try to help him stand; it’s like trying to lift a dozen sandbags at once. My back and legs protest at the strain, but I refuse to give up. With a lot of wobbling and effort, I’m able to finally help Rokan to his feet. He hangs on to my shoulders and nearly drags me to the ground.
This isn’t going to work, either. It has to, though. “Come on,” I whisper aloud. “We’re going to get you home.”
We take two steps, and then Rokan topples forward, slumping back to the ground and spilling me with him.
I roll away, wiping snow off my face and turn back toward him, frantic. “Rokan!”
You okay? He asks me with a slow hand sign.
I want to scream in frustration. He’s the one that’s hurt, not me, and the awful, wonderful man is worried about me and only me. Even now, he’s trying to protect me.
I need a new plan. I pull off one of my outer layers of warm furs and wrap his head to stop any bleeding. “You’re going to be fine,” I tell him aloud. “Let’s wrap up your head and get you comfortable, and then I’m going to go look for something to help us out, okay? Maybe a nice sled or something.” Oh sure, because sleds just grow on trees. I don’t know what else to do, though.
I can’t carry him. I can’t leave him here.
I won’t leave him here.
He grips my hand in his and pulls my fingers to his mouth for a kiss. You’re cold, he signs sleepily, his eyes closing.
The hot tears I’ve been fighting come rushing forward. I sob into the air and stroke a hand down his cheek. Right now? In this moment? I could care less if it’s the khui making me have feelings for him or if it’s the real deal. All I know is that I love him and he’s in serious danger right now.
I love you, I sign, but his eyes are closed; he won’t see it. I love you and I’m going to fix this, I promise. “Then, I’m going to be your mate,” I whisper. I lean in and kiss his mouth, swiping at my icy tears. He’s falling asleep again, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave him here alone and defenseless.
I’m not going to give up, though.
I get to my feet and grab the shoulders of his tunic. All right. We’re not more than a few miles from the ship. Hopefully. I’ll just have to drag him to safety. I hold on tight and tug with all my might.
Rokan moves an inch. Maybe two.
“Come on,” I snarl. “Move!”
But it’s impossible. I try again, and again, but his shoulders only lift. I can’t move the rest of him; he’s too heavy. He probably has at least two hundred pounds on me and I’m not exactly a power lifter.
I can’t move him. I want to, but I can’t.
Desperate, I look around the valley. Maybe there’s bushes or trees or something I can cut down to act as a sled. But all I see around me is a blanket of white. There are a few trees at the far end of the valley, but then I’d have to somehow make it all the way there with him to chop them down, and I can’t even move him three feet.
I won’t leave his side, either. Not with him unconscious and bleeding. I picture the big birds swooping from the sky and shudder. “I’m not leaving you,” I whisper, fitting my body against his side. “You’re mine and I’m staying here until we can walk out together.”
I press my head against his chest, feeling the low, gentle purr of his khui to mine. They say there’re no atheists in foxholes and I can relate to that. Right now? I’d give anything to have Rokan healthy and smiling at me. I don’t care if the khui is manipulating me or my emotions - all I know is that I love the guy and I want what we had before I pushed him away. I’ll take manipulated love, if that’s what it takes to give me Rokan.
He’s everything I want. I’ll take him any way I can have him.
I don’t know how long we lie there in the snow. It’s silent, and my world consists of feeling his chest rise up and down with slow, steady breaths. In a way, I suppose it’s good that the weather’s nice, because at least it’s not snowing on us. Instead, the suns are cheerfully warm, almost hatefully so.
All I can think about is how he didn’t want to go out today.
Know that you have my heart.
I wipe my tears off my cheeks before they can hit his tunic, because I don’t want to leave an icy spot. Oh, Rokan. Wake up and let’s go home and I can show you how much you mean to me.
The gentle rise and fall of his chest is my only answer.
I run my hand over his breast, and as I do, a shadow falls over us. Before I can process this, I smell it. Wet dog.
I sit up, gasping as a yeti gazes down at us. It’s a tall adult male, and as it squats next to Rokan, the stink grows worse. It gazes down at him, and then looks over at me.
The face is scarred, one of the eyes missing.
It’s the same one-eyed yeti from before.
17
LILA
I hold my breath as the creature looks down at Rokan’s unconscious body. My hand goes to my belt, where my knife is sheathed. If he so much as makes one wrong move…
The yeti looks at me and makes a hand sign. It’s a small, subtle movement, one that might not be noticed by anyone…except for someone that has learned to talk with her hands.
Oh. He’s asking me something.
He makes the hand-sign again, and it jars a memory. It’s a sign that I recognize - one that he did before, when he handed me the intestines and tried to feed me. I don’t know what it means, though.
The yeti leans over Rokan, sniffs hard, and then looks at me. He shuffles closer to Rokan’s head, then leans in and sniffs again, his nostrils flaring. Maybe he smells the blood? I bite my lip, worried.
He smacks a big hand on Rokan’s chest, and then makes the signal again.
Is he asking if Rokan is mine?
I nod, then I realize he might not understand what that means. So I make the sign back to him, trying to repeat the subtle finger movements.
It grunts at me, and then gets to its feet. I rise also, uneasy. What now?
To my surprise, he reaches over and grabs Rokan by one arm, slinging him over his hairy shoulder as if my big blue alien weighs nothing. I follow behind as he starts to walk away. I don’t know where he’s going, but even a cave full of these things might be safer than leaving him bleeding out in the open.
Then I remember the length of intestine this one tried to feed me, and I shudder. Maybe not.
I keep my knife ready as I struggle to follow behind the yeti. My snowshoes are gone, lost in the avalanche, so I stumble through the heavy, soft snow more than I walk, but I’m determined to stay with them. This thing seems to know where it is going, and he’s got my man. Falling behind is not an option.
The yeti goes to the far end of the valley and heads for one of the rocky walls. I squint up, worried, as he begins to climb, Rokan still unconscious and slung over the thing’s shoulders. Where is he going? The valley walls are steep, almost sheer, and at the top there’s nothing except more snow.
As I watch, though, he gets about halfway up and then disappears behind a rock.
I gasp and climb after them, terrified. Where did they go?
I get a few feet up when the yeti’s head appears from within the rock and he makes a beckoning gesture. It takes me a few minutes to climb after them, my legs and arms screaming a protest, but when I get closer, I see there’s a human-sized fissure in the rock wall. It’s practically invisible to the naked eye, and hidden behind another rocky outcropping. The yeti makes another ‘come’ gesture, and disappears inside it again.
It’s a cave.
Cautious, I pull my knife out and follow the creature inside. My heart is hammering, but I have no choice - he has Rokan, and I won’t leave him behind. The entrance to the cave is narrow and not much taller than I am, which makes me worry that the rest of the cave is not much bigger. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle close quarters with the stink of the yeti. Claustrophobia at the tight squeeze threatens to overwhelm me, but I clench my knife and force myself to ignore it.
Rokan is my focus. Only him.
For a weird moment, it feels as if the cave is getting hotter. I step forward into the darkness, the feeling of isolation growing. If there’s something dangerous in here, I can’t hear it. I can’t smell anything but the wet-dog scent of the yeti, and I can’t see anything.
I’m going in on faith alone.
A wave of moist, damp heat hits me, and then I see light. Strange, flickering whitish-gray lights. It’s not fire, or the heart of a volcano. I don’t know what it is, actually. The yeti appears again and gestures me forward, and I follow.
The small cave passage opens up, and then I’m in wonderland.
I suck in a breath, in awe at the sight before me.
It’s a massive cave. Well, sort of. It’s more like a hollowed-out beehive, with ridges and layers along the edges of the cave but not much in the way of flooring. It looks like a fissure in the rock that has broken open.
I gaze up, because there’re plants crawling all up the walls of this strange, hot cave. Tier after tier of rock is laden with bright green leaves, blue splashes of color, and red berries that drip from thick vines. The cave ceiling climbs high, and at the top, the bright lights flicker and flutter, but remain constant. The lights are coming from a piece of the alien ship, broken and wedged into the rock so high above that I’d never be able to reach it. I don’t know what it’s doing here, but there are lit up panels in varying colors, and chunks of debris are scattered on the cliffs amongst the plants, giving them light.
I look down, and at the bottom of the cave there’s a bubbling, bright blue spring, the edges of the pool striated with color. This must be where the heat and the moisture are coming from. I step forward, awed.
This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Everywhere, there’s bright color - greens and blues mix with reds, and it’s all plant life. This isn’t the washed-out pink of the trees outside, or the endless white. This is an explosion of greenery that’s somehow found a toe-hold on this frozen planet, and I am amazed. Somehow this little piece of the ship in this perfect spot has created an enormous cave greenhouse full of blooming plants. Light floral scents mix with the wet-dog scent, and I look around for the yeti - and for Rokan.
My man’s laid out on a rocky ledge off to one side, and I move closer to him, kneeling. He’s breathing evenly. I search for the yeti, but there’s so much to see that I’m overwhelmed. There, in the leaves at the edges of the hive, the yeti is climbing the thick vines. He grabs a few bright red fruits and shoves a handful of the gleaming green leaves into his mouth, chewing hard. Okay, so he’s having himself dinner. I guess I can’t blame him. This place is as safe as any, I guess.
I touch Rokan’s cheek, but he’s still unconscious. Should I try to move him somewhere safer? I worry if he rolls over, he’ll fall off the ledge. Not that there’s a lot of room to move him, of course. The plants are hogging all the space, growing riotous in every possible inch.
The yeti lands on the ledge next to me, making me jerk back in surprise. He shoves the red fruits at me, and I grab at them before they can roll off the edge. Each one is the size of a cantaloupe, the rind hard. I make a gesture at myself, asking if he wants me to eat them. God, they look amazing. My mouth waters at the thought of melon. It’s been so long since I ate anything but meat.
He continues to chew, his mouth open and showing me glances of the green double-mouthful he has. Gross. Then, he makes the same signal he always does, looking at me expectantly.
The gift of the fruit suddenly has a double-edged meaning. What if I take it and he thinks we’re now mates? That I’m choosing him over Rokan? Even if they smell incredible, I can’t eat them. I put them aside and point at Rokan, and make the signal over him.
If yeti can look disappointed, this one does. He tilts his head and makes a face - or a sound - with his mouth and then continues chewing.
I remain silent, one hand tight on the knife, and the other on Rokan’s sleeve.
The yeti watches me for a moment longer, still chewing. Then it turns to Rokan and pulls the bandage off his head, sniffing. I watch, not sure what else to do. It doesn’t act like it’s going to hurt him…but I remember how unpredictable they are.
He sniffs again at the spot on Rokan’s head where he’s wounded. I can see the blood crusting in Rokan’s thick hair, and my heart aches. This is all my fault.
I’m so lost in that thought that I almost miss the part where the yeti spits out the mouthful of greens he’s got in his cheeks and slaps them directly onto Rokan’s wound. Oh. Oh my God. I make a gagging noise, and the creature looks over at me, a bit of chewed greenery still dribbling from his mouth. I put a hand over my lips. Silence is probably best. I think this might be the yeti version of healing. In a way, it’s kind of sweet.
The yeti pulls the last of the greens from his mouth and pats them over the wound, then crawls back out along the vines to get another mouthful. He returns a few moments later without fruit for me, and spits another round of the disgusting poultice onto poor Rokan’s head.
Then, he looks at me expectantly.
Er. I’m not sure what he wants. I put the leather wrap back on Rokan’s head, careful not to disturb the wound. I’d thank him, but I don’t know the yeti signal for it.
It seems my yeti friend is a one-trick pony, though. He makes the ‘mate’ (at least, I’m pretty sure it’s mate) symbol again and watches me.
Yeah, I’m not changing my mind. I pat Rokan’s shoulder. This one’s my mate. I almost feel bad for turning him down - not that I want to be a yeti-bride, but he’s been so sweet and helpful.
In response, the yeti bares his teeth, and I feel a rush of hot, fetid breath hit my face as he screams at me. He snatches the big fruits and hops away, climbing up the vines. I watch him go, shocked. A few moments later, he disappears out of the cave, and then it’s just me and Rokan.
Okay, that was a little scary. So much for feeling sorry for the darn thing.
I clutch my knife close, ready to defend my mate. All is quiet, though, and after a few minutes, I begin to wonder if the creature is truly gone. I’m still surprised he showed up after all this time. Maybe he’s been following me, waiting for the right moment to try and convince me to be his mate?
Great, I have a yeti stalker. Totally what every girl dreams of.
When more time passes, though, and the yeti doesn’t come back, I relax. My stomach growls and I eye all the greenery near me. Maybe I should try eating something. I get to my feet and move along the ledge, looking for fruit that’s in reach. There’s a big yellowish-orange fruit overhead nearby, so heavy that the vines are bowing with the weight of it. I carefully pull it free and sniff it. It smells like peaches, but the rind is smooth and hard. I return to my spot next to Rokan, brushing my fingers over his hand as I do so. I just want to touch him, to know he’s there.
It takes a little time to peel the fruit, and the interior has a hard, springy white rind that’s at least two fingers thick, and tastes bitter and awful. I cut all the way down to the pit, only to find that it’s not a pit at all, but a soft, smooth center that reminds me
of avocado. It tastes like a cross between spinach and watermelon, which is a weird flavor, but it’s so fresh and light that I eat every bite of it and lick the rinds.
Then, there’s nothing to do but sit back and wait for Rokan to wake up, or the yeti to return. I take his big hand and place it in my lap. His tail is so still, and that bothers me, so I reach over and gently drape it over my legs, running my fingers lightly along the length of it.
It makes me feel better just to touch him. Less alone.
Please wake up.
ROKAN
My head throbs and aches behind my eyes. It is worse than the time that I, as a kit, stole my father’s fermented sah sah and drank it all by myself. I am a little sore all over, my mouth dry, but it is my head that pains me the worst. I open my eyes, squinting, but all I see is a mixture of blinding color. I close them again, rubbing a hand over my eyes. It is very warm, and my entire body feels damp with sweat and uncomfortable.
As I do, I realize there are soft, gentle hands petting my tail. “Li-lah?” Then I feel stupid for speaking aloud, because she will not hear me. I force myself to open my eyes again and peer over at her.
Her face is blurry but I can tell she is smiling. Her fingers touch my face, stroking it. How do you feel? She signs. Are you okay?
Hurts, I sign back. My limbs feel heavy and tired. I want to close my eyes because the colors are making my head ache even more, but then I cannot see my sweet mate. Where are we?
Cave, she signs. Rest. Have some water.
She pushes something against my mouth - her water-skin. I take several sips and then lie back again. My memories of how we got here are fuzzy; I do not recall walking back to a cave after the rumbling avalanche. I do not recall all these strange colors, either. I cover my eyes, because they are hurting me.
“Rest, Rokan,” Li-lah says in that sweet, soft voice of hers. “We are safe. There is food and water, and I’ll watch over you. We’re fine.” Her hands clasp one of mine before I can start signing a response. A moment later, I feel her mouth press against my knuckles, and my khui reacts, humming loudly.
