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)
“I want to make sure you’re full first. What kind of mate would I be if I ate all your food?”
Oh. I should probably point out that him getting me food doesn’t mean we’re mates now. That it doesn’t mean anything at all. But I’m exhausted and overwhelmed, and right now Skarr is what’s familiar. So I don’t say anything at all, I just keep eating.
He leans in close as I take another rib. His voice drops low. “How is your finger?”
“Better today,” I admit, flexing it a little. I’ve still got it bound to my ring finger but it doesn’t throb and ache like it did yesterday. How long do fingers take to heal? I genuinely don’t know.
“And yet you retreat from everyone?”
The reproach in his voice makes me shrink down into myself again. “It’s just…kind of overwhelming. First this planet, and then the clone thing, and now this.” Everywhere I look, there are people. There are humans wearing leathers and carrying half-alien babies, and alien men of all different shades of blues and even a few red. The beach looks as forbidding as the mountains, and the waves crash against the shore like they have a personal vendetta. Nothing about this seems inviting or homey.
We were told the camp on the beach was sheltered. Safer. This doesn’t feel safe. It looks like a primitive camp on the unfriendliest ocean ever. I don’t know what I was expecting but…not quite this.
It’s a lot to take in.
Skarr grunts, eyeing the group. He offers the waterskin to me. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”
I take a cautious sip of the drink. It tastes like juice with a bit of a tangy kick, though I can’t tell what fruit it reminds me of. It’s good, though, and I take a bigger sip as I eat another tuber. Skarr’s still watching me, and I feel the need to explain. “I just need time to get used to everything. It’s all different than what I’m used to.”
He huffs. “Don’t I know it. Out of all these people, not a single one wants to spar. It’s downright baffling.”
His indignation strikes me as funny. I giggle around a mouthful of potato-tuber and wash it down with a sip of juice, then offer the skin to him. “You do know that fighting isn’t everything, right?”
Skarr takes a big swig of the drink, gives it a look of appreciation, and then downs another hearty gulp. He offers it back to me, and I drink a bit more, just so he won’t hog it all. “For you, it is not,” he says. “But for me, fighting is all I know.”
“Then you’re in the same situation I am,” I tell him. “Now we both have to learn how to live here. Now we’re both starting from scratch.”
He grunts, sounding as displeased as I feel.
I nudge the plate toward him as I take another rib. “Eat some. There’s plenty for both of us.”
He grins at me and leans in and takes a bite from the potato I hold in my hand. It’s a very lover-y thing to do, and I should get mad, but he grins like a mischievous child and all I can do is giggle at how ridiculous he is.
“Eat your own,” I clarify, but I’m smiling. I’m also feeling pretty good. Pretty loose. Some of my anxiety is wearing away from being around the others. I’m sure people are watching me and Skarr but I can’t find it in me to care too much. I bet the sah-sah has alcohol in it. I’ve also had enough that I no longer care, and I take another drink.
Skarr tries to take another bite of my potato, but I hand the whole thing to him and take the skin instead, drinking more of the wonderful juice. He seems to be having a great time, but then again, when is he not? He always looks eager to take on the world. I envy that. “How is it that you’re not upset?”
“Upset about what?”
I gesture at our surroundings. “At any of this. At being stranded on a planet where it snows on us all the time. I think I saw an iceberg float past in the ocean. That means it’s cold here all the time.”
He shrugs, tearing a chunk of meat off with his sharp teeth and chewing. “Why would I be upset about being on this world? Where else should I be?”
“Well, where’s home for you?”
He shrugs again. “I am a splice. I was created to be a fighter, a gladiator. I was not created to make a home.” His eyes flare with enthusiasm as he eyes me. “You are my home.”
I ignore that and focus on his earlier thoughts. “Speaking of…how is it that you’re not upset that you’re a clone? That you were made by someone in a lab somewhere and discarded?”