by Amber Stuart
He lay low against Keela's back and admonished himself for not killing Gerrit when he had the chance.
Hope pulled on the rope that bound her wrists, but it was no use. The alien who had taken her from Cord had the other end of the rope tied to the horn of his mount's saddle. All her yanking accomplished was to slightly alter the animal's course. Dragging her feet had a worse outcome. The alien would encourage his mount to speed up and if Hope wasn't careful she would be dragged through the snow.
She hissed but he either ignored her or barked at her discomfort.
Gerrit nudged his mount, forcing Hope to trudge alongside the scant path and not on it. The rocky terrain was hidden by snow and he enjoyed the sound of the Camo as she tripped and hissed.
"Teach you to make me bleed, bitch," he called over his shoulder at her.
He traced his fingertips gingerly along the cuts under his eye and sneered. Declawing her was first on his agenda, then whatever else took his fancy before Cord caught up. And once he did, his friend was a dead man.
Keela slowed and chuffed the air, tasting it. Cord leaned over to see what had caught her attention. A trail of blood dotted the churned-up snow. For the first time it struck him how similar Camo and human blood looked.
Having no way of knowing whether the blood belonged to Gerrit or Hope, he growled.
"If he's hurt her…" he vowed out loud. Yet another reason to kill the man. First he had taken his wife and son and now he had foolishly taken Hope. Didn't the bastard know she was the only hope they had of coming out of this forsaken winter?
He grunted as realization dawned on him. Cord had finally figured out why the scientist had called her that. Sometimes he was slow but it was usually down to the alcohol, something he hadn't touched—or even thought about—in days.
The thought of losing Hope forever didn't sit well with him, but he wasn't willing to contemplate why. Instead, he urged Keela on. They didn't have far to go.
"This looks like as good a spot as any," Gerrit announced. He stopped his mount and slipped from its back. With a jerk on the rope, Hope was forced to follow.
Gerrit led them off the path and into the snow-covered wasteland, each step more laborious than the last as they sunk up to their knees in the frigid whiteness.
"Awful planet you have," he told her. He didn't care that she wouldn't understand. She was just bait. An object. A thing. But this thing obviously meant something to his friend, making it something he could use to his advantage. And maybe he could have some fun with it too, as he had with Cord's wife.
"C'mon Cord. Come and get it."
Cord found Gerrit's mount snuffling in the snow, looking for ground feed. He ignored it. The beast could fend for itself. They were hardy creatures and more used to the harsh realities of this planet's winter than he was. Keela also gave it no heed, more interested in following the path Gerrit and Hope had eked into the snow.
He raised his hand to shield his eyes and scanned the distance for them. There they were. Slowly they trudged away, one leading the other on a tether. Cord ground his back molars, incensed by what he saw. He jumped from Keela's back and left her, knowing she would be more hindrance than help, and followed in their footsteps.
He walked where they had, making the way easier. It didn't stop the sweat and vapor in his breath from forming icicles around his beard as he trudged forward. The snow dampened his supposedly waterproof leggings, draining his energy with every step. He took comfort in the fact Gerrit would be worse off. Still, what shape would Hope be in when he caught up to them?
When he was within shooting range, he stopped, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled.
He saw Gerrit nonchalantly turn and wave. Cord noted the jerky way he moved his arm and the corner of his lip curled at the memory of Keela trampling the bastard. She had broken Gerrit's preferred gun hand.
"Good girl," he murmured.
Gerrit yanked on the rope, coiling it like a makeshift fishing line as he reeled Hope to him. Not only was she the bait but he knew Gerrit would use her as a shield.
Cord considered shooting through Hope to get to Gerrit, but dismissed the notion. None of them had the energy required for Hope to heal herself. One or all of them would die, hopefully Gerrit, which meant Cord had few options to choose from.
"How about you toss your guns away and I won't kill her?" Gerrit offered.
Cord ran his fingers through his beard, disturbing the ice that clung to it as he pretended to think it over.
"I might," he said, "if I knew you wouldn't kill her."
"Ah, it was worth a shot."
Minutes passed in silence, the lack of noise almost deafening in the cold white desert as the two men regarded each other. Gerrit, never able to take Cord's silence for long, broke first.
"Nice weather we're having this winter. This goddamn long, accursed winter."
"If you let her go, it'll end."
"What? This Camo bitch will stop winter?" Gerrit asked. "If she could do that why the crut hasn't she done it already?"
Cord shrugged.
Gerrit sighed. "Why'd we even come to this shithole?"
Cord didn't reply. He knew Gerrit would rant for ages if he let him and the more worked up the man got, the more likely he was to make a mistake. A mistake Cord could use to his advantage. For that to happen he had to be patient, so he focused his attention on Hope. He needed her to somehow get away from Gerrit so he could end this.
"All they wanted was the Camo," Gerrit continued, saying something that caught Cord's attention. "You're a drunk with nothing left, Cord. You didn't have to do anything. So why'd you have to side with them?"
Gerrit punctuated his question by shoving Hope. Cord whipped his gun out and fired.
Hope hissed.
"Don't worry. You only grazed her," Gerrit helpfully informed him. "She's pretty pissed, though."
Cord winced. Gerrit might be angry and injured, but he still had the presence of mind to keep her between them.
"But seriously, Cord. You ruined everything. Well, you and that asshole governor. Both of you screwed it up. But I don't buy this shit that this Camo is special or that she can end winter. What about science? Shouldn't the planet tilt on its dammed axis? Or doesn't it do that? Ever? What were they thinking when they approved this shithole for colonization?"
They were the questions Cord had asked himself, many times. It had been summer when they first arrived on the planet, so he knew that summer was real. The existence of the Camo proved it. But Hope didn't seem to notice the cold, at least not that Cord could tell. And she was always cold. The Camo were built for winters on this planet. Humans weren't.
Pain had always been a part of Hope's life. Her main purpose was to take pain from others, bury it within herself, and let it go back out into the world. Her other purpose, her destiny, was waiting for her at the top of the mountains, the ones she could see behind Cord. The pull to go to them was strong. The physical hold the alien had on her kept her in place, causing pain of another kind. Longing.
The anger around and within Hope grew as the two males polluted the air with their animosity. She knew this would only be resolved with bloodshed. She knew him well enough by now to know it would come to that. Still, she was not impressed that her blood had been spilled first.
Cord's bullet had burned a searing trail across her cheek, making it sting. He had hit her instead of his intended target. She let her body heal but worried her alien would be effected by the harm he had unintentionally caused. He had to realize though that there were more important things at stake than a graze.
She hoped he could control his emotions long enough to see this through. If he were to falter then all would be lost. Yes, the alien had killed her alien's flesh and blood. Even her people would seek retribution and atonement. Death, however, was not something one came back from. Even someone with her ability couldn't cheat death. But if death was the only way to end this and stop him from
coming after them again, so be it. And if she played a small part in it, then that was her burden to bear.
Time wasn't on their side. So Hope decided to act. She threw her head back, hard, and hissed out her frustration.
Cord's concentration wavered when Hope unleashed such an inhuman noise. Her sudden attack surprised them all, especially Gerrit, who staggered back at the force of the blow to his face. Even Cord heard the cringe-inducing sound of cartilage as it broke. He had been on the receiving end of the back of her head before. It wasn't fun.
A mere quarter of a second passed between the audible crunch and the crack of Cord's second shot.
Gerrit's body jerked. He reached blindly for Hope, who had dropped to her knees the moment he had loosened his grip. She hissed when skin-to-skin contact was made. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gasped in pleasant surprise at the warmth that blossomed from her.
Cord swore. He wouldn't let the bastard siphon the life from her. He didn't have time to savor the moment or to think about avenging his family. Cord's actions were automatic. His time as a soldier came back to him, and he hurled himself forward, into the moment. With his gun in the lead, he emptied the remaining bullets into Gerrit's flailing body.
He hadn't realized he had been yelling, not until his voice went hoarse in the bone-chilling air. He wondered for a moment what he had called out. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. What did matter was getting Hope to safety. Cord grabbed Hope by the shoulders and heaved them both backward, away from Gerrit, who was desperately still clinging to life.
Exhausted, Cord grunted at the impact and closed his eyes. He had little energy left, so he let himself drift away in the cold, for just a moment.
Hope carefully lifted her head. She pushed the pain aside and concentrated on her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was her alien running toward her, death erupting from his weapon. He had also made noises as he ran. She slowed the memory in her mind and while moving her lips to repeat the patterns he had made, recognized the way his mouth said the name his kind had given her.
It perplexed her. Why would he do that?
She looked down at the familiar face. He had pulled them away, breaking the healing connection that had been forced on her. For that, she was grateful. Death was not something she was ready to experience.
He was still unconscious. He hadn't opened his eyes and when his breathing slowed and became shallower, she started to worry. Hope brushed away the icicles and snow from his beard that had fallen while they had been unconscious. He needed to wake up. He had to.
Hope tapped his forehead. No response.
She knew he hadn't been injured, but the cold and exhaustion would claim him if he didn't wake soon. She needed to act.
A puff of warm air tickled Cord's nose. He tried to ignore it. But after the second and third puff, something told him it wouldn't stop. His eyelids fluttered open and found himself nose-to-nose with Hope.
"Crut," he muttered, cross-eyed.
She pushed herself back on her heels.
Cord looked up at her as she sat astride him and he sighed.
"I see you're alive," he said and gestured for her to get up. Once she did, it took him a few tries to get back to his feet. She had knocked the wind out of him when they had landed on his back after he had pulled her away from Gerrit.
He stared down at the body of his former friend. The bastard had been the cause of so much sorrow, yet killing him hadn't relinquished its hold on him. He had always known it wouldn't be as simple as that. After a kick to assure himself he would never be bothered by the man again, he trudged away. There was no point in burying him. The ground was frozen solid and it was better this way. The animals could eat him. If there were any left out here, that was.
Besides, Cord still had one Camo to deliver. And after that? Well, he didn't know.
Having returned to the path, Hope and Cord started their ascent of the Ashula Mountains. Heavy drifts of snow mixed with patches of ice increased the higher they went. The usually sure-footed Keela made her way slowly along the slippery slope. Cord dismounted and led them upward. He picked their way along the treacherous path as the winds buffeted around them. Hope hugged tightly to Keela's hairy hide as they wound their way to the cave located somewhere above.
Cord stepped on a slick spot and his foot skittered out from under him. He flung his arms out and grabbed at the rocky mountain wall. His gloved fingers found purchase in a crag and his sigh of relief puffed through the folds of his scarf.
"Keela halt!" he said but the order was too late.
Cord watched in horror as his longtime companion seemed to flounder in slow motion on the same spot he had. Hope's expression imprinted itself into his mind as she and Keela went over the ledge.
Without thinking Cord hurled himself after them, stumbling and bouncing down the steep incline. He rolled to a stop on a part of the path they had passed a few hours ago. Panting, he crawled to the hairy but still form of his beloved Keela. Warm air snorted from her stubby nose. She was alive. Keela tried to stand. The usually silent animal wailed before flopping back down. The source of her pain was clear. She had two broken legs.
Hope silently appeared at Cord's side, making him jump.
"Crut. You gotta stop doing that," he complained, although he was glad she was alive and unhurt. He watched as a few minor cuts and bruises on her head healed.
Hope used her teeth to pull the glove from her hand and gently brushed a hand over his now-exposed face.
He shuddered and closed his eyes. Warmth blossomed from her fingertips, through his body all the way to his extremities. No matter how many times she healed him, he would never get used to it. He felt a fleeting pang of joy mixed with uneasiness. What else was she doing to him?
Hope smiled and readjusted his scarf before turning to Keela.
Cord blinked and followed her gaze. He unholstered his gun and they stared at it.
"Gonna have to put her out of her misery."
When he raised his weapon, he found Hope standing in the way. "C'mon, Hope. It's the only way."
She shook her head vehemently and he knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to heal Keela.
Cord tried to step around her and do the humane thing, but she surprised him with her light-fingered skill. He wondered if all Camo could pick pockets or if he had been stuck with the only one who had the skill. There they stood, each with one of his guns and at a stalemate.
He didn't think she had it in her to do it. She hadn't been able to shoot the governor's men and they were the ones who had held her captive. How could she think of killing him after saving his life so many times? Of course, she didn't have to kill him, he realized. Just injure him enough to stop him.
"I ain't carrying you while you recover from broken legs," he told her. "Or a gunshot."
She shrugged a shoulder as if she had understood him. Perhaps she wouldn't bother to heal him. Now that she was so close to her destiny, his usefulness to her had run out.
"Hope—"
Hope’s finger twitched and she accidentally fired the weapon. The sound echoed around the mountains, echoing through the chaotic winds.
Cord exhaled. He had seen her squeeze the trigger and had fought his ingrained instinct to fire. He was alive. She hadn't shot him. He was also glad to find he hadn't pissed himself. Opening his eyes he found Hope sprawled on the ground next to Keela, who was fully healed.
"Crut. I said I ain't carrying you."
Hope's shot had set off avalanches nearby, which left the path blocked. Cord had turned Keela loose, sending her back down the mountain. She was a hardy animal and thanks to Hope, no doubt able to survive on her own until Cord could find her again.
He had grudgingly carried Hope. For some reason, her healing abilities had slowed, and he put it down to the cold and the fact she refused to take anything from him. When they were forced to climb the mountain wall, he made a harness out of rope and carried h
er piggy back.
Every time she hissed in his ear, he stilled. His chest tightened every time his movements caused her pain. He was also worried because she wasn't healing as fast as she usually did. Cord consoled himself with the knowledge that her hisses were less frequent the higher they climbed.
Each ledge they reached offered the false hope of finding the promised cave. Cord started to doubt its existence and wondered what Hope would do if they didn't find it. Every time he wavered in his resolve to carry on, Hope would snuggle closer, and move her hands across his chest or around his shoulders, reminding him he wasn't alone. Urging him forward.
Too busy cursing about accepting the damn job in the first place, Cord almost missed catching the ledge above. His fingers slipped and he forced his attention back to the death-defying task of clinging to rock.
Easing all his weight to his right foot, he flung his opposite hand out and pushed them up on the ledge.
Cord heard Hope gasp in his ear and it took him a moment for his eyes to focus on the hidden valley that stood before them. A valley where red flowers grew. In the distance he could make out the gaping blackness of a cave. The cave.
He wiggled forward on his stomach so a fierce gust wouldn't fling them off the ledge. Hope didn't wait and freed herself from the harness that bound her to him and scrambled free.
Cord watched her on unsteady feet and grunted. "Now your legs work."
Hope wept as she stumbled across the valley toward the cave. She had come so far, risked so much, and now here she was, about to enter the cave. That was, if the cave would let her.
She stopped feet away from her destiny, unable to take those final steps and learn if she was still entitled to enter.
A shadow separated itself from a sheltered outcropping of boulders and approached. She recognized him immediately as the one her family had sent to meet her. The one who she had deemed unworthy because he had killed.
