Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
A smug, knowing look crosses his face. “That is all I need to know.”
Something tells me that he’s assuming that my lack of response means that I do, actually, want an ass-eating. To be honest, I don’t know if I do or don’t, but I do know I’m not giving him any more ammo. With my luck he’d bring it up at dinner tomorrow around the fire and launch into how perfectly he’s going to eat my ass. Just thinking about that scenario makes me whimper.
Skarr touches my shoulder again. “As for your hand, it is indeed unfortunate, but we will hide it from the others. We will not tell them of your accident.” He thinks for a moment and then pulls off his outer layer of furs, offering it to me. “Carry this over your hands to mask them, like you did for me.”
I take it, surprised that he’d offer his wraps so quickly, because he needs them to protect himself from the cold. “Why would we not tell anyone I hurt myself?”
“Because we are partners. I will hide your weaknesses, just as you hide mine. Wounds are a liability, and I will not allow anyone to see you as anything other than strong and capable.”
I’m strangely touched at the support, no matter how odd it might seem. “I…thank you, Skarr.”
He nods once. “Of course.”
Maybe Flor is right and he’s developing a bit of a personality after all. Maybe I’ve been too hard on him. We’re not friends. I don’t want to pounce on him and have sex.
But it’s a start.
Chapter
Fifteen
VIVI
Skarr doesn’t give me grief when I walk at the back of the group the next day. I just hold a blanket over my hands and he nods at me like we’re sharing a secret. He also doesn’t come and walk next to me, which I can’t decide if I’m annoyed by or not. I spend my time observing our surroundings, how the craggy mountains slope downward, giving way to flatter and flatter land. How the snows are thick here, but there are more tracks, because more people tend to come and go.
It makes me think of the tracks I saw the other day. It makes me think of my memories of my father, too, but when I try to call them up, I get nothing. I focus instead on trying to identify the tracks I see, and to determine how many different people have walked through here.
One of the blue aliens—O’jek—drops back to check on me. “Are you well, V’vian? Do you need help with anything?”
I give him a small smile. “I’m fine.”
“You walk behind the others at all times,” he points out. “I wanted to make sure you are not hiding an injury.”
I don’t tell him about my finger. “I just like the quiet.”
He nods, as if understanding. “Being around so many can be hard at times. You will be able to take your quiet when we get to the village, too, never fear. It will be more people, but they respect a hunter’s need for peace.”
Here is someone that gets it. I smile wider, nodding. “The only memories I have are really of my father, and hunting and tracking with him. I was watching the tracks in the snow to try and jog my memories. We’re near the village, then? I’ve seen a lot of tracks made by people, some small enough to be children.”
O’jek walks at my side, and I can tell he’s impressed at what I’ve picked up. “Yes, we are near the trails where the hunters bring their children to practice their skills. We should be in the village before long. You have a good eye.”
“Just matching tracks with what I know,” I say, though his praise fills me with pleasure. If nothing else, I have a few skills I can rely on. My thoughts move back to the tracks I saw last night. “Is there a creature that has paws bigger than my hand on one side, and a tail on the other?”
“A tail?”
I describe the tracks I saw last night, how the left was clearly marked but the right was nothing but drag-marks.
He looks concerned. “Were there toes in the tracks or were they rounded?”
“Toes. Definitely toes.”
“Rounded tracks or long like a sa-khui foot?”
“Rounded.”
He grunts. “This is concerning. The only thing that large would be a full-grown snow-cat, but they do not drag their tails in the snow. The only thing that would cause drag marks could be an injured leg, but an injured snow-cat is dangerous and must be taken care of. Where did you see these tracks?”
For some reason, I don’t want to tell him. Maybe it’s my injured hand, or maybe I’m just feeling strange about the fact that I’m a dumped clone, but a creature being “taken care of” when it’s just trying to survive bothers me. “Oh, it was way back,” I tell him. “At the camp where our pods were found.”