by Ruby Dixon
Then, three swims down, I scent it. Just a whiff of her lovely scent. It is old, but it is R'ven. And when I search the beach, I see the remains of a fire that has been put out and half-covered by sand.
She has been here. My heart swells with excitement and I know I am on the right path.
5
RAVEN
After two days of endless cold, I'm pretty sure my toes will never be warm again. I'm also pretty sure I'm never leaving the fireside ever again. I'll just drop my sleeping furs right in the middle of camp and sleep by the pit, happy as a pig in shit.
Because Dad and Pak don't seem to believe in fire. Or tents. Or like…any sort of shelter. We spend our days on the raft, floating in the icy waters as Dad takes us somewhere. I have no idea where. At night, we head to shore to sleep on the open sands. It all sucks. It's horrible and cold and miserable and wet. I try making fire several times, only for Dad to either put it out or to slap the rocks out of my hand when I try to make a spark. I get the idea, eventually, but it pisses me off. It's clear they don't want to be found and a fire will give off smoke. But I do want to be found, so I pocket a pair of striking rocks and stuff tinder into my bra when they're not paying attention, and I look for opportunities to get away. When I shiver at night, my teeth chattering, Pak sneaks over to my side and burrows his small body against me, sharing warmth. I snuggle with him, stroking his hair, and I feel bad for the kid. His dad loves him, that much is obvious, but this is no way to live.
On day three, there's raw tentacles for a meal again, courtesy of Pak's fishing skills. It's literally the worst thing I've ever tasted, but I can't complain, because there's simply nothing else to eat. Oh, sure, every once in a while we vary it up with some raw fish, but they seem to be against the idea of cooking anything. There's an abundant supply of snow, at least, and we're able to eat handfuls of it to quench our thirst when there's no spring of fresh water available.
It's a miserable existence, and I'm not sure how Pak and his dad have survived like this for so long. I point this out, too. Not that they listen or can understand me. "I'm just saying," I continue for what must be the hundredth time that day. "Cooked food is delicious. And you know what else is delicious? Being warm. It's the tits. And I'll even handle all the fire. You won't have to lift a finger."
But of course, blank stares meet my gaze.
I sigh.
I don't try to run away again. Dad will just drug me with more leaves, and I don't know where I am, anyhow. I'm also getting very run-down and tired from not being able to sleep. Dad and Pak seem to be just fine with wearing nothing but some tattered leaves, but I'm constantly chilled. My clothes still feel damp, my fingers and toes are numb, and even Pak's small body curling up against mine at night doesn't stop my teeth from chattering. If my clothes were warm, that'd be one thing. If they were dry, I could handle the cold. But cold and damp is an awful combination, and I suspect I'd be sick with hypothermia if I didn't have a cootie.
On the morning of the fourth day, Dad pulls out his raft and indicates we should get onto it again, and I break. "I don't want to get on that thing," I tell him, shivering. "Can't we talk about it?"
Dad just points at the raft, a scowl on his face.
"I know you can talk," I say, using my sweetest flower-child voice. "I've heard you talking to Pak. It's just me you won't talk to. Will you do sign language, then?" I don't know ASL, but I rub my arms and indicate that I'm cold. I gesture that I want to build a fire, pretending to hold my hands out to the make-believe heat. I point to the shore. "Let's stay here. It's safe, right?"
Dad just gives me another blank look.
I put a hand to my face, frustrated and cold and just…done. Stupid, hot tears slide down my cheeks and I sniff miserably. "I can't keep doing this," I say. "I'm not some survivalist like Nadine. I'm not a nurse like Flor. I'm not even a hippie kid. You know what I am? I'm a stripper, dude. I'm a stripper, and I don't do camping, and I sure don't do this." I let the tears slide down my cheeks, because it feels good to cry. It feels good to not be positive and pretend like everything's going to be all right.
If I want to be miserable, I'm going to be miserable, damn it.
A small hand touches my cold fingers.
I look down, and Pak's holding another one of the wriggling spaghetti-monster things in his free hand. He holds my fingers and offers me the creature, and it's sweet and awful at once. He's just a kid. He doesn't know why I'm sad, just that I am…so he's trying to feed me.
"Thanks, Pak," I say softly. I guess if a kid can keep going on like this, I can, too.
I suck up a deep breath, brace myself, and head toward Dad's raft. He touches my shoulder, and it's almost an apology. Maybe he doesn't like living like this, either. Maybe this is all they've got. If that's the case, I feel a little bad that I had a breakdown…but only a little.
I sit on the far end of the small raft, my legs folded under me. Pak sits in front of me, smiling, as if he's having a great day. He snaps the neck—back?—of the spaghetti monster, killing the thing, and the tentacles go limp. With that, he pulls one off and offers it to me. I take it, grudgingly, trying not to notice the taste or the fact that I've got nothing to wash the taste away with.
"What do you want with me?" I ask Dad for the dozenth time. I chew on the tentacle, waiting for an answer. There's not one, of course. Never is. Dad just looks at me, then picks up his crude oar and pushes us out into the waves. It's not until we're far out from the shore that he climbs on board, dripping icy water, and begins to paddle.
"More water," I say as he sloshes seawater in our direction. I wave my hands in the air like the asshole I am. "Yaaaay."
Pak giggles at the sound of my voice. "Yaaay!"
"Pak," his father hisses at him.
Pak immediately goes silent, and I feel bad for the kid. "Sorry," I say. "That one's on me. My fault."
Both Dad and Pak just stare at me.
I sigh, staring out at the water. Stupid, stupid beach. Stupid, stupid ice planet—
They're still staring. I frown, wondering if I did something wrong or broke some unspoken rule. "What is it?"
Dad touches Pak's small shoulder and then begins to paddle harder. He digs his paddle into the water with an intensity he hasn't shown before, and worry prickles over me. I glance over at the shore, which is still fairly close, but I don't see anything. "Guys?"
"R'VEN," a booming voice calls out from behind us. It's so loud—even from the shore—that it makes me jump.
I turn around on the raft, looking over my shoulder, and I see an alien man racing up the shore. He's too far away for me to tell who it is, but when he tears off his tunic and discards his pack, I recognize the broad shoulders and the contrast of black beard against his chin. "U'dron!" I squeal in delight. "You came after me?"
U'dron jumps into the water and begins to swim out to us.
"Be careful," I call out, cupping my hands to my face. I'm a little worried. There's lots of scary shit in this water that can overtake a swimmer easily. Not that this seems to bother U'dron—he's cutting through the waves with speed, a determined look on his face. I want to get out and swim to meet him, but I'm so cold the idea seems horrific.
Just as I decide to brave it, Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, pinning me in place.
I shrug his hand off, irritated. "You can't paddle fast enough, you jerk! Someone's here to save me!"
Dad glares at me, his hand fisting in my damp tunic when I try to push him away. What a bastard.
A moment later, U'dron's head breaks the surface of the water. There's a long, slimy tentacle of something wrapped around his arm, another around his neck, but he ignores them, grabbing onto the raft. The moment he does, the entire thing nearly tips over, and I let out another squeal, this time of horror. He can't fit on here, but he can't stay in the water, either.
Dad plants a foot against U'dron's face and shoves, hard. "Go away! This female is mine. I found her!" The translation is rough, the language garbled,
but the meaning is clear.
"She is not yours," U'dron growls, holding onto the raft as Dad tries to shove him under. The entire thing nearly tips again, and I grab Pak before he can slide off the side.
"Oh, so now we're talking?" I cry out. "For real?" I want to smack them all in the mouth for being such dicks about this. "I can't believe that you're talking to everyone but me. What gives?"
Dad just growls and tries to kick U'dron off again. U'dron grabs his leg and with one smooth move, drags him into the water with him. Pak lets out a little scream of terror, and I grab the kid before he can follow them. The raft sloshes miserably, and the oar falls into the water. Shit. Do we jump in now or do we stay on here and try to make it to shore? "Wait here, Pak," I say, releasing the kid. "Sit down. I'll get us to land."
I reach for the oar, but as I do, U'dron and Dad erupt from the water, snarling at each other like two angry cats. They hit and fight, and more of those filmy tentacles are wrapped around them, not that either seems to notice. A moment later, they go back under the water and the oar drifts just out of reach. Well, fuck. I lean over and try to grab it—
—and then I'm in the ice-cold water.
The shock of it hits me like a slap to the chest. Everything in me feels like it just got punched, and I claw at the water until I break the surface again. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. "U'dron?" I chatter.
The raft drifts nearby, with Pak on it, alone, a worried expression on his face. A moment later, the kid jumps into the water next to me. Well, fucking great. If this isn't the most ridiculous situation, I don't know what is. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Pak flails, his head coming above the surface, and does that awful gasp that only a child that doesn't know how to swim makes when they realize just what they've gotten themselves into. I grab him by the shoulder and haul him against me, and his small arms twine choking-tight around my neck. "Let's get to shore, little buddy."
I want to check on U'dron and Dad, but they bob and thrash under the water, still fighting. I figure if they can fight, they're not drowning, which puts them a step above me and Pak. I doggy paddle as best I can toward the shore, but it's so cold and slushy it's like swimming in ice cream, and I can't feel my limbs before long, my teeth clacking loudly with the chill.
My legs are so cold that it doesn't register that something's got me until I'm jerked under. I let out a cry that's swallowed up by more seawater and fight my way back to the surface. When I do, Pak is crying, and I see both U'dron and Dad have realized we're in trouble and are lurching toward us.
Thank god.
Before I can tell someone to get Pak off my shoulders before he drowns me, the thing on my leg grabs me and pulls me under again. I'm not under for longer than a breath before a strong hand grabs me and hauls me back to the surface. U'dron looks me in the eye and wraps his arms around me. "Hold on."
"Pak," I splutter, realizing I've lost the kid somewhere.
"His father has him." U'dron tugs on me, and so does the thing under the water. He frowns, realizing it’s trying to pull me out of his grasp, and reaches under the surface. A moment later, he pulls out the biggest spaghetti-monster creature I've ever seen, its tentacles flailing and twisting, the beak hidden amongst the tendrils dripping with blood.
I don't want to think about whose blood it is. I just want to get out of the water. I cling to U'dron as he tries to fling the thing away, but it just latches onto his arm. With a grunt, he ignores it, holding me tight against him. Our eyes meet briefly, and there's a wealth of emotion in his before he focuses on the water and begins to haul me to the shore.
I tuck myself against him, because he's warm and strong and saving the hell out of me. My big damn alien hero.
"I have you," he murmurs against my hair as he emerges from the water. "I have you, R'ven. You are safe."
"I know," I manage, teeth chattering. "P-P-Pak?"
U'dron moves up the beach, away from the water, and sets me down carefully on the sands. "Wait here." Like I'm going to go anywhere? But he jogs over to his discarded bag and clothes, and to my horror, I notice he has several sea-creatures still clinging to his big body. There's something snakelike wrapped around one leg, and the spaghetti monster is creeping up his shoulder, tendrils sticking to his skin everywhere. There's something with suckers on his back, too, and I let out a little cry of distress at the sight.
He turns, looking at me. "R'ven?"
"You've got…things stuck to you, U'dron."
He relaxes. "Yes. I know. They can wait." He grabs his pack and jogs back to my side, kneeling next to me. He pulls out a knife and cuts away my sodden clothing. "You are too cold," he murmurs. "Your lips are the color of my skin, and I am pretty sure that is not supposed to happen." His tone is gentle but teasing, and I want to giggle but my teeth are chattering too hard. God, he's just the best. Trying to make me smile at a time like this?
Who'd have thought Prince Charming would show up on an ice planet with blue skin and furry forearms?
U'dron cuts off my tunic, and I'm too cold to even care that he pauses for a moment at the sight of my tits. I greedily take the tunic he offers me, letting him help me pull it over my head. He wraps a thick fur around my shoulders, and I want to cry with how warm and good it all feels.
"Your leg is not that bad," he reassures me.
My…leg? I look down at my half-frozen legs and nearly faint at the sight of the blood running down my calf in rivulets. "What the fuck…?"
U'dron grunts and then yanks the spaghetti monster off his shoulder, tossing it to the ground. "They have small claws near their beak they sink into the skin to hold on to their prey."
"Ew," I breathe, watching in fascination as blood glides down his arm, too. Why is that oddly sexy? Is it because it's following along his hewn biceps? Or is the ice just getting to me?
U'dron flings off the other creatures, tossing them onto the sand without a second thought, and then gets back to work on me. He cuts a long strip from my destroyed leathers and wraps it around my leg, tying it tightly. "Is that all right?"
I nod. Truth is, I can barely feel it. "What about you?"
He gives me another little half-smile of teasing again. "I have had worse when I pricked my finger."
"Showoff," I manage to tease back.
He gives me a flash of fanged teeth that have never looked so damn sexy and then helps me to my feet. "I will build you a fire, and then you will warm up. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
Fire sounds like heaven. "I would love a fire, but they won't let me."
He frowns down at me, and I realize I sound like I'm whining. I've forgotten all about Pak and Dad, and I glance down the beach, looking for them. They're a short distance away, Pak watching us with big, wary eyes as Dad puts his hands on his son's shoulders and gives us an impassive look. He's sporting a massive bruise on his face and I suspect that's from U'dron.
God, has any man ever been hotter? I would totally drop to my knees in front of U'dron right now and service him as a thank you if he wanted it.
U'dron follows my gaze and then grunts. "They were not trying to anger you," he says in a low voice. "They are outcast clan. Only the elders are allowed to make fire."
"W-what? That's a stupid rule." My teeth chatter. "And what are outcast clan?"
"I will explain later. For now, we will get you warm. Can you walk?" U'dron puts a steadying arm at my waist, bending over me so tenderly that it makes my heart ache. "Shall I carry you?"
"I'm okay," I whisper, hugging the furs tighter. I can't afford to let my heart go all pitter-pat over this guy. He doesn't know what I am. It's a sticky situation but…one crisis at a time. My heart can certainly wait until the rest of me warms up.
I stumble over to the cluster of rocks that U'dron points out. There's enough of a wind block here to start a fire, and as I sit down upon one of the rocks, he pulls out his pack and gets to work, producing tinder and strikers.
"You want me to get some driftwood?" I ask, huddling under the
furs.
"No. You stay and warm up. I will get this." He gives me a stern look that indicates I'm risking his wrath if I even try to get up. I hug my legs close, avoiding the bandage, and watch him as he moves around the beach. He bends over to get some wood, giving me a show of tight backside outlined by his wet leggings…but then I see Pak and Dad standing a short distance away, just watching.
And I feel guilty. Because sure, Pak and Dad kidnapped me, but I don't think they meant me harm? I'm not sure what they wanted, but I don't feel like they're the enemy. And I'm about to have a nice warm fire…
When I see Pak shiver, my mind is made up. They're soaked, and they've got no clothes, just leaves. U'dron returns with an armful of wood and I gesture at the two “outcasts” that they should approach.
Pak looks up at his dad.
Dad doesn't move.
I sigh.
U'dron builds a fire, and soon warmth crackles and blazes from it. I scoot closer, letting it warm the chill from my bones. Man, it's nice. My companion strips his wet leggings off, in nothing but a loincloth, and I try not to stare too much at that. He's really well built in all ways, U'dron, and he seems to get bigger and stronger by the day. Several of the islanders have filled out with the plentiful food available at camp, and it shows on U'dron's strong frame. He no longer looks like nothing but wiry muscle. He's solid and thick.
God, I like thick.
"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" He sits next to me, tucking the blanket closer around his body. "We will leave soon and I will take you home, but for now, you should warm up."
I peer over at Dad and Pak, still watching us from a distance. "Why don't they come over by our fire and get warm?"