by Ruby Dixon
“Are they bringing more slaves?” I press. Maybe the people running the ship have decided to turn over a new leaf as good Samaritans and brought more humans to come hang out here? Even as the thought rolls through my head, though, I don’t buy it. They were kind of an unfriendly crew. I doubt they’d do anything that didn’t benefit them, and it was clear they didn’t like slaves—or humans. Why bring more? I keep watching Warrek, hoping he has answers.
He gazes down at the big, dark ship in the valley and then slowly shakes his head again. Then, miracle of miracles, he speaks. “I...do not think they should be here.”
Great. The only words he's said in two days are scary ones. I fight the gnawing fear in my stomach at the thought.
WARREK
The little human female’s distracting chatter has quieted. I do not know if I like that she’s gone silent or if it worries me. The endless stream of conversation she feels the need to expel like puffs of air has come to an end, and now I do not know what she is thinking. When her hand steals to my belt and she holds on to it, I feel a protective surge.
She is frightened.
As the only male here in the cave with her, it is my duty to reassure her. But unlike her, I cannot think of the right things to say. All the clever thoughts that move through my head in quiet moments are gone, and I can only stare blankly at the sky, then down at her. Suh-mer wants answers, and I have none. Nor am I good at reassuring a female. I have never had a mate, nor a pleasure-mate in my furs. I do not know how to rid her of the worry in her gaze. I know how to fish, how to hunt, how to skin. I do not know how to talk to a female.
But I must do something. So I place my hand atop her head, like I would a kit, and give her a pat. “All will be well.”
She reacts as if I have hissed at her, jerking back and slapping my hand away. “What the fuck? I’m not a child, thank you very much! Don’t give me one of your patronizing little pats on the head, you dweeb!”
I blink at her. I did not grasp half of what she just spat at me, but it is clear she is upset.
“Sheesh!” she exclaims, crossing her arms under her breasts, giving me another indignant look, and then storming down the path toward the valley. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t need you to answer me. You can sit here by yourself and be quiet. I’m going to go see what’s up.”
I watch her as she marches down the icy slope, back stiff. Even as I stare in surprise, I can see her dark, smooth hair icing over. It is hot inside the fruit cave, and damp, and she is going to be frosted over within a matter of moments. She will need warm furs to clothe herself in, and a weapon, just to be safe. As I watch her walk, she slides on the pathway, her shoes skidding.
And new boots, I think. And perhaps a walking stick.
I head back inside the cave and grab things quickly—my spear, several fur wraps, and the pack of supplies I always keep ready and at hand. I race down after Suh-mer, who is just now getting to the bottom of the cliff, and she gives a startled little scream when I appear at her side.
“Why are you so damn quiet? It’s not cool to sneak up on people, you know. In fact, it’s frowned upon in most cultures, but I guess that doesn’t matter to you, right? But god, you scared the life out of me.” She clutches at her chest, shaking her head. Her hair is now stiff with ice and looks frosty. “Not that I suppose you’re going to apologize, because that would involve opening your mouth and saying words, right? And heaven forbid you talk to someone like me. But I guess you think I have enough words for both of us, right?” She gives me an exasperated look.
Should I apologize? I did not mean to frighten her. But I also worry that talking about it will just encourage her to say more, when it is clear she is cold. Still, I should say something. I think, and the knot forms in my throat. My father would know what to say. He would laugh at my inability to speak to such a female…but he is gone these last few seasons.
So I say nothing, simply pull out one of the furs and wrap it around her shoulders. I will let my actions explain themselves.
Suh-mer looks startled as I do, and she starts to slap my hands away again when she realizes I am simply draping a cloak about her small human shoulders. “Thank you,” she manages. “I guess I should have thought about that when I left, but I’m not used to going from a warm place to a cold one. This entire planet feels like one big meat locker, and you forget that there can be warm places here, though I guess I shouldn’t, since it’s obvious that there’s a lot of geothermal activity, right? So it would stand to reason that the heat is going to vent somewhere.” She adjusts the furs around her shoulders and gives a little shiver. “But I guess I am rambling.”
Does she…want a response? “Yes,” I manage. That seems appropriate.
Her strange, smooth human face scrunches up as if I have insulted her again. “I think I liked you better when you were silent,” she mutters to herself and turns her back. “Are you coming to say hello to the ship with me?”
I am not leaving her, that is for certain. Not when she is more helpless than many of the kits in the tribe when it comes to taking care of herself out in the wild. I watch as her boots slip on the ice again, and wordlessly offer her my spear as a walking stick.
“No, thank you,” she says. “I don’t want to hunt. I’m going to go visit the others. Visit,” she emphasizes, slowing the word down. Then she sighs. “I don’t know why I just did that. You’re not hard of hearing, you’re just ignoring me. Or being silent like Elly. Either way, it just means I’m going to keep rambling like a crazy person.” She shoots me another look, and this one is almost amused. “You’ve been warned.”
I…am not entirely certain of what she warns me of. Of her speaking? I like her voice, even if I do not know what to say to her. That is one reason why I listen so much when I am around her. It encourages her to say more, and I like hearing it. “Thank you,” I tell her.
That appears to be the wrong answer, as well. Suh-mer makes another frustrated noise and wraps the furs tighter around her, marching forward across the snow. I remain at her side, slowing my steps to match her smaller, angrier ones. Of all the new humans that have arrived, I understand Suh-mer the least. Shail is motherly and kind, like No-rah or old Sevvah. Buh-brukh is flirty and craves attention, like Asha. Kate reminds me of Leezh with her strength, but she is sweeter of personality, like Li-lah. Ell-ee is quiet and skittish, like a wild creature. I even understand that.
But Suh-mer? Her, I do not understand. She is almost as tiny as Shail, but she looks wildly different. Shail’s mane is bouncy and full of tight curls, and she keeps it cropped short to her head. Suh-mer has a thick, smooth mane like the sa-khui, dark black, but I brushed my fingers against it when I put the furs around her and found it was softer than a snow-cat’s fur. Already I itch to touch it again. The humans all have wildly different features, but Suh-mer has a hide that is more golden than the florid pink and white that most of the humans are, and too light to be the lovely brown of Tee-fah-ni and Shail. She has a pointy little chin and fascinating hooded eyes framed with dark, dark lashes. Out of all the humans, I find her appearance the most pleasing. It is not that I do not understand, though.
It is that she talks.
A lot.
As a hunter—and now as a teacher of hunters—I must by necessity be quiet. Even the most foolish of game animals will be chased off by lips that cannot stay together. Suh-mer does not understand this. She talks. And talks. And talks.
But the things she says are fascinating. It is as if her mind cannot stop on one subject, so she must discuss all of them.
I actually do not mind it. Most assume that my silence is because I do not wish for company and often leave me alone. Suh-mer seems to chatter on in the hopes that my silence will break and a dam of words will pour forth. So she continues to talk at me, and I listen in fascination. I do not wish to interrupt because I want to see where her mind is going.
Unfortunately, I think my listening has caused her to assume that I do not like her. Ev
en now, she marches ahead of me with her back stiff and her shoulders straight, as if offended. I bite back the sigh rising in my throat—no doubt it will be offensive, too—and keep pace with her.
We are a long ways off from the ship itself—probably several hours’ walk, with Suh-mer’s much smaller strides, and there are many ridges to cross before we enter the valley proper. We are at the top of one crest when I decide I should tell her to pace herself. I try to think of the right thing to say when I notice that the ship in the distance moves, just a little.
Alert, I put a hand on Suh-mer’s shoulder.
“What is it?” She blinks up at me, trying to shrug off my grip. “If you think I can’t walk in this, you’re wrong. I mean, it’s not my favorite, but a little snow never killed anyone—”
I put a finger to my lips, indicating quiet, and then gesture at the ship off on the horizon. When she goes silent, I take a few steps forward, watching. We are fairly high up here and able to see for a long distance. Even so, I cannot make out the faces of those that descend the ramp of the ship. A small cluster of people have emerged from the Elders’ Cave, blue figures that move toward the ramp.
Someone comes down the ramp, and I see a flash of orange. Odd. I do not recall any of the strangers having orange hides. I thought they were blue like us.
An uneasy feeling uncurls in my gut. “Suh-mer, get behind me,” I murmur. I put a protective hand in front of her, holding her back before she can continue on the path that will lead her down the cliff and into the valley.
“What? What do you mean?” But she doesn’t push forward. She just looks up at me.
I cannot explain. Right now I am too busy watching what is unfolding in the valley, where the other ship has arrived in front of the Elders’ Cave. Something is wrong. It feels…off. I was not here the last time that the ship arrived, so perhaps I am mistaken, but even from this vantage point, I do not like the stance of those that come down the ramp. It reminds me of…predators, and how they slink when they are waiting to pounce.
But perhaps Suh-mer’s vulnerable presence has me thinking too protectively. She is not mate, she is not kit, but she is a female and vulnerable. I feel the urge to protect her. I step in front of her, shielding her smaller body with mine. Just in case.
“Warrek,” she says with an annoyed sound in her voice. Her hand moves to my side, as if she can push me out of the way. “I can’t see, you big doof. Why….” Her voice dies. “What are they doing?”
My throat goes dry as one of the newcomers from the ship raises something to his shoulder. As I watch, the others that have rushed out to greet him scatter. Something flashes, and one of the blue figures that had come out to greet him drops to the ground.
Suh-mer gasps. “They shot him! Who—who was that?” Her hand grips at my leathers. “Warrek, what’s going on?”
I do not have these answers. I desperately wish I did. I watch in horror as another comes down the ramp of the ship, and yet another blue figure—one of our people—is felled. The others are scattering, only to fall to the ground as well.
Suh-mer makes a sound of horror and buries her face against my side. “I can’t watch.”
I know the feeling. I wish I could turn away. I do not, though. I must watch and learn everything I can of what is unfolding below. I wrap my arms around Suh-mer and put a hand to her mane, holding her close to comfort her. I can feel her body shake with silent weeping, but there are no tears left inside me.
I am empty inside as I watch my people slaughtered below. I count, instead. Three blue forms are on the ground. No, now four. A fifth one stands in front of the scattered females, and I see a flash of bright pink mane. That must be Buh-brukh standing behind him. They pause for a long moment, and I wait for them to be slaughtered, a cold pit in my stomach.
But they are not. The newcomers wave their long, pointed shoulder spears that shoot light, and then the small group goes up the ramp, disappearing into the ship. One of the others splits off and heads into the Elders’ Cave and a moment later appears with Har-loh, who is heavily pregnant, and her small son. They guide them toward the ramp, but she falls to the ground next to one of the blue figures.
Rukh, then.
The captors make her get up and half-drag her into the ship. As I watch, another pair emerge—that makes four that I have seen, total—and drag the bodies of the fallen up the ramp. As they do, one suddenly jumps to life and begins attacking, and they shoot the light at him again until he slumps to the ground once more.
Not dead, then. My heart thuds heavily in my chest. Not dead.
“Captives,” I murmur, and stroke Suh-mer’s soft, soft mane as she weeps against my chest.
“W-what?” She looks up, lovely eyes wet with tears.
“They have taken them captive,” I tell her. “They made the sa-khui drop to the ground, and when they began to drag them inside, one woke up and fought until they used the lights on him again.”
“Used the lights…?” Her brow furrows. “Oh, you mean their guns. It flashes light.”
I nod slowly. “I do not think they are dead. They gathered the females and brought them into the ship.”
She sucks in a breath. “They’re enslaving them. But why would the crew of the Tranquil Lady do that?”
I shake my head. “I do not think they were sa-khui peoples. Their skin was orange.”
“Then something happened to the old crew,” Suh-mer says, worry on her face. “They were blue like you, and they definitely said they weren’t coming back.”
“Somehow, hunters have taken their ship and followed their star-trail back here to us.”
“They’re not hunters. They’re slavers,” she says bitterly. After a moment, she reaches out and slaps at my chest with both hands, ineffectively.
I stare at her in surprise as she does—is she meant to be hurting me? I am twice her size and her slaps are no more than playful taps against my skin. “What are you doing?”
“Motherfucker, you haven’t said a word in days and now you choose to be chatty? I’m pissed at you!”
I frown down at her. I know from the one Leezh that “fucker” means something about mating, and in an unpleasant way. But why would my mother be brought in? “My mother is long dead. I do not see why—”
“Argh!” She throws her hands up in the air. “Why am I stuck with the most impossible alien ever? Forget all that, Warrek. Just tell me what we’re going to do to rescue the others!”
2
SUMMER
Okay, so calling Warrek “motherfucker” was not my proudest moment. He’s not, really. Well, at least, I’m pretty sure none of the sa-khui tribe have anything to do with their moms. And I don’t normally have a salty mouth like Liz or Maddie or even Brooke. I’m just so frustrated and scared…and I took it out on him.
Now I’m staring at him, shoulders heaving, mind racing, and I’m ashamed that I lashed out. The apology I want to give is sticking in my throat, because I know it’ll turn into a long, rambling explanation of why I called him that and probably why I decided to use a cuss word, and then I’ll launch into etymology, and we don’t have time for that shit. So, for once, I shut my mouth.
Warrek doesn’t get pissed, though. He just gives me another one of those thoughtful, uncomprehending looks and then puts a hand on my back. “We are not rescuing anyone yet. We are going back to the fruit cave to wait for nightfall.”
Wait, what? I stare up at him like he’s crazy. Maybe he is. Maybe seeing what happened below snapped his mind. “We can’t wait for nightfall! That ship’s going to take off with our people inside it!”
“If it does,” he says slowly, calmly, “there is nothing that you or I can do about it. If we march down there in the bright daylight, they will greet us with their light-spears and take us as slaves with the others.”
I close my gaping mouth, because he’s…not wrong. We can’t just waltz up to them, indignant, and demand that they let the others go. Still, the thought of leaving them behind
feels like…the worst possible thing to do. Like I’m the biggest, most selfish jerk in the world for even thinking it. “We really have to leave?” I ask, my voice dropping to a whisper at the thought. It hurts me physically just to imagine turning and walking away.
I know what it’s like to be enslaved. I know that terror all too well. My hell started when I woke up to hear my college roommate screaming in the middle of the night. I sat up in bed and looked over to find someone—an alien someone with green skin, a thin body, and big eyes—standing over her bed. I gasped, and their attention turned to me. After that, all I remember is a flash of light and waking up in a dirty cell on a spaceship, my clothing gone. My roommate was nowhere to be found—I don’t even know if she’s still alive, and I guess I’ll never know.
I was in a cell with Brooke, and we were waiting to be bought. It seems that humans are grabbed and sold on the black market like…gosh, I don’t know. Like Chihuahuas. Except I think the people buying humans want them for far more nefarious reasons than people want a pet dog. I expected the worst.
I got dumped on the ice planet instead.
And, okay, it’s not so bad here. The people are nice, and even if the weather sucks, it beats being in a slave hold. Anything does. I shudder, remembering the filthy straw in the small cell I shared with Brooke, the stink of our unwashed bodies, the buyers that would come in and give us lascivious looks, feeling our arms or hair, and one even looked at my teeth. It was horrible.
I can’t imagine what Brooke must be thinking right now. She must be frantic at the thought of being enslaved again. And poor, pregnant Harlow with a mate and a young son—what’s going to happen to them?
I stare up at Warrek, but he only reaches out and pulls the furs tighter around my body then gestures back at the way we came.
I know he’s right. I know that he’s not saying we’re giving up. We’re retreating to figure out a course of action. But I can’t help but feel a little hysterical at the thought. I manage to hold it together—all of it—inside me as we head back to the cave. I’m silent. I’m actually proud of how quiet I am.
