Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Both myself and the strange blonde—Rosalind—help dress our unruly group. I meet the three “Ancestors” for the first time. There is Set’nef the Wanderer, who has gray coloring and a somber expression. His younger brother, Tal’nef the Swiftest, with a lean build and a worried look on his face. Then there is Noj’me the Attendant, who has a silvery mane and bright eyes. She looks thrilled to be meeting strangers, her face wreathed with an excited smile. We don’t have time to get to know each other, though. There are shoes to be made, wraps to be adjusted, and people to be herded. Noj’me is so fascinated with everything that she keeps accidentally wandering away. Set’nef pauses to look at everything. Poor Rosalind sticks to R’jaal’s side when she’s not clinging to mine.
This is a lot for all of them, I’m sure. So I do what I can to be a leader. I make sure people are covered and no extremities are going to get frostbite. I teach them not to wander through the thicker snowdrifts while R’jaal scouts ahead, looking for the next hunter cave which will be full of the supplies we need. And when we get to the cave, I decide I’m going to show Rosalind how to make a fire. I’m so used to the cold, the gloomy sunlight, the bitter wind, that none of it strikes me as disturbing anymore. But it’s clear from the shocked expressions of the ancestors (and poor Rosalind) that Not-Hoth is a lot to take in.
I can be a guide for them like Stacy was for me back on Croatoan—patient, helpful, and practical.
We crowd into the cave, the ancestors shivering and clutching borrowed furs around them. The weather feels pretty nice to me, but even I admit it’s an extreme temperature drop from the balmy interior of the fruit cave and the stagnant warmth of the tunnels of Rem’eb’s people. R’jaal goes out to find fresh water, and I take one look at the others, huddled in the back of the cave like baby birds in a nest, and decide I need to take charge.
“Noj’me,” I begin, pointing at the lean, lovely young alien woman with four arms and a pretty silvery mane. “Dig through the supplies in the back of the cave and look for furs. They will be rolled up. Let’s make beds for everyone.”
Noj’me can speak some of the sa-khui alien language, so I use their words, though I know my pronunciation is all garbled. “Skins…for beds,” she repeats slowly, making sure she understands. “For us, yes?”
“Yes,” I agree, and gesture at Set’nef and Tal’nef. “Tell them.”
“I tell!” She beams at me, obviously loving her adventure. When she turns to the brothers to explain, I tune her out and turn to Rosalind.
The look on her face is just as lost as the others, and I’m guessing she had no idea that the ice planet was going to be quite this cold. Then again, R’jaal probably didn’t mention that this is an ice planet. To him, it’s just his home world. I recognize that deer-in-headlights look on her face and I want to help her.
So I smile and pull the fire strikers hanging from the wall. The bits of metal salvaged from the ship have a lot of magnesium in them, so we use them to start fires and pretty much every cave has something like that in it now. I wore one around my neck for a long time, too, but I abandoned it thinking I’d never be out somewhere that I’d need a striker, as I’m not much of a hunter. Ha. Joke’s on me. I hold the strikers out to her. “Have you ever made a fire, Rosalind?”
Her eyes are wide and she shakes her head.
“Okay, well, that’s one of the things you’re going to want to learn first, now that you’re here. You’ll get used to the cold for the most part, but fire is handy for a lot of things, not just warmth. We’ll get you a striker at some point so you can practice, but for now we’ll use the one here in the cave. You’re going to want a striker, and you’re going to want a nest of tinder.”
“Striker. Tinder. Got it.” Rosalind’s voice is shaky but growing stronger.
Good. Maybe if we keep her occupied, R’jaal and I, she won’t get depressed once she realizes she’s stuck here. I threw myself into making out with as many alien guys as possible when I went through the grief of being trapped here, but I’m guessing that won’t be a choice for her.
Thinking about kissing guys makes me think about Rem’eb. I glance back at him, where he sits, hands tied behind him, near Tal’nef’s feet. Tal’nef carried him today because we couldn’t trust Rem’eb not to race back to the caves, and I know he has to be angry right now.