Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“I’ll go,” says the human male, getting to his feet.
One of the other males snorts—the scaled one—and pushes forward. “Your race is puny. Let the strong ones handle it.” He gives me a confident look. “I will assist.”
He does look much stronger than the human male. I nod. “Come. A’tar, will you take us to the nearest hunter cave? We need supplies for our humans.”
“Our?” A’tar asks, quirking a brow in my direction. “Are you claiming them?”
“A tribe is a tribe,” I say, thinking of Juth and his son. I did not like them at first, because it was not the old way…but there are no humans in the old way at all, and I am growing fond of them. Even D’see, because she makes O’jek happy. “All members are welcome to our beach home.”
My mate runs up to me again, gesturing that I should bend down. I do, thinking she will kiss me, but she presses her hand to my forehead once more. “Sure you’re not fevered?”
Bah.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
FLOR
Seeing how helpless these women are makes me feel like a straight-up badass. It’s not their fault that they don’t know how to make fires or the proper way to wrap a fur around your body to get maximum warmth, but it just reminds me of how far I’ve come in a few short years. When I first arrived, I was crying and terrified, just like these women, and now I’m confident and in control. I’ve been tending to them, using nursing skills I’ve allowed to get a bit rusty with Veronica around, and I’m realizing I don’t resent the job as much as I used to. It feels good to help out.
Even if my methods of helping out would probably make the staff at the hospital I used to work at cringe.
“It’s snowing,” cries one of the women, promptly bursting into tears. “As if things weren’t awful enough!”
I glance up at the sky. Barely a flake or two to be seen. I cluck my tongue at her. “Drink some more tea. It’ll keep you warm. And this snow won’t last long. Look at the sky. It’s mostly clear, which means it’s just going to sprinkle a few flakes on us and then clear up again.” I eye the girl in front of me and the front of her tunic. “Tell me how to spell your name again?”
“Yasmin,” she says. “With a Y and no E.”
Using charcoal, I spell her name out on the front of her slip, near her neckline. It’ll be easier to remember who is who when I can see their names. I also put a small X on her left hand side, indicating I need to check her out post-khui to ensure that all her extremities are operating in proper working order. The women are shivering, some of them showing signs of frostbite despite the fact that we’re in a sheltered canyon, and despite the warm fire and blankets. I’rec needs to return quickly, because we’ve got to get khuis in them before nightfall or it’s going to be really hard on them.
Another woman starts crying—Dawn, according to the front of her slip—and I lift my chin at the woman sharing a fur with her that seems to be handling the cold more stoically. “Can you get her some tea so she can warm up, Colleen?”
Colleen nods and gets to her feet, doling out a cup of tea. I notice her hands are reddened and her limbs shaking. We definitely need those khuis.
“Okay,” I say, tucking a blanket around Yasmin and moving toward the next girl. “Give me your name again?”
She’s wearing the same thin linen dress the others are and it’s clearly not been made for cold weather. I remember the recording that mentioned they were clones, and shiver, because now that I recall, they’re shapeless and without appeal, just like a hospital gown, designed only to do the bare minimum for dignity.
Okay, so we need khuis, clothes, shelter, food…the list keeps growing.
The woman stares at me, her teeth chattering, and she hugs the fur around her shoulders tighter.
“Name?” I ask again, smiling. “We’re getting you some warmer clothes, I promise. Not much longer.”
“Isa-Isadora,” she chatters.
“Great,” I say, leaning over her front. I’m running low on charcoal. “Can I just call you Dora?”
“I g-guess?” She gives me a worried look. “What is this place? Where are we?”
“You’re home.” I give her a beaming smile. “It’s a lot to take in right now, I know, but I promise it’ll all make sense after a few days. You’ve just got to give it time.”
“Time. Okay.” She remains still as I finish writing “DORA” across her chest and then immediately wraps in her blanket again. “Your blue guy is coming back with supplies, right?”
“Yep. His name is I’rec. He’s from this planet.” I’ll talk about the island’s destruction some other time. We need to ease them into this world with baby steps, not vomit out the entire history the moment anyone shows interest.