by Ruby Dixon
Me too.
She sighs heavily and looks up at the stars again. “I suppose I’m just borrowing trouble, though. Maybe there’s room for an old lady that can’t have more kids. Just like maybe there’s room for a girl who keeps herself covered in dirt so no one will look twice at her.”
Busted.
Gail knows my tricks, I guess. Not that it matters, because she’s not going to call me out in front of the others. She respects a defense mechanism. I can’t worry about it. There are so many things to worry about, I’ll never sleep again if I focus on all of them. So I just look up at the stars again. They’ll be back tomorrow, and so will the sun. I suppose there is always that to look forward to.
With one last look up at the stars, I head back inside.
5
BEK
For two long days, the humans are kept locked away in their quarters. They need time to adjust, Shorshie tells everyone. Time to relax and not be scared of this new world they have been dropped on.
It is making the unmated hunters crazy. They find ways to wander past the hut where the females are, curious to get a glimpse of them, to see if their khuis respond. So far, no one has resonated, and in my small, mean heart, I am glad the others are as frustrated as I am. Of course, they do not resonate because they have not seen the females face to face. I have spoken to all of them and still my khui is silent.
Of course, since Vaza and I are the only ones to have seen the human females, it means we are constantly harassed with questions. I ignore them, because what can I say? It will not matter what the human looks like if there is resonance. Young Taushen could resonate to the filthy, angry little scrap of a female and resonance will not care. Quiet Warrek might resonate to the female that Vaza adores, and Harrec might resonate to the one with pink hair and the constant weeping, and they will drive each other mad. Resonance does not care. It only wants them to mate and create kits. It knows better than we do.
Vaza gives them enough descriptions to whet their appetites when I do not, though. He talks of beautiful, delicate Chail with her dark skin and tight cap of gray curls. He speaks of the pink-haired one with the big teats, and the golden one with the silky black mane. He talks of the tall, strong one with the pale cloud of hair, and both Taushen and Harrec seem interested in that one. And he speaks of the smelly one that is too thin, who is nothing but eyes and dirt.
No one is interested in that one. I cannot blame them—she is unappealing as a mate, with no strength to her limbs, no rounded softness like the other human females. She has no smiles or sweet voice, and she stinks. Whoever resonates to her will have a tough trail ahead of him, and I do not envy that male.
Well…I envy him a little.
Vaza is talking about Chail’s dark eyes and her pretty smile around the fire this morning when Raahosh storms back into the village a short time after leaving. That gets my attention and I straighten by the fire, dropping the spear I am sharpening. Raahosh heads directly for the chief’s hut and disappears inside.
I know what this means. I fight down the surge of excitement in my chest and glance over at Vaza and Harrec. “I think Raahosh has found a sa-kohtsk.”
The other males leap to their feet, excitement in their eyes. “If that is so, then we must gather all of the unmated hunters,” Harrec exclaims, no trace of his normal sly laughter in his manner. “And this means we get to meet the human females.”
I nod curtly. “Go find Taushen and Warrek. I will speak with Vektal and see what I can find out.”
I head through the village, making a line for the chief’s hut. The females are out and about, but as I walk past, the human mates of my friends and fellow hunters ignore me. They are all angry at me—even Claire wept and ranted at me for what I have done and barred me from her fire until she has forgiven me. I feel a pang of grief at losing her friendship, but she does not understand. No one does except the other unmated males who have felt nothing but despair.
I am a hero in their eyes.
I reach the chief’s hut as he emerges, and he has his spear and hunting weapons strapped across his back. Raahosh follows close behind him, his scarred face tight with anger as he gazes at me. My chief nods in my direction. “It is time. A sa-kohtsk has been spotted in the valley.”
So close? That is excellent—it means the fragile humans will not have to go far. “Harrec is getting Taushen and Warrek. We will be ready.”
Vektal nods. “Leezh will be coming with us. She will guard the human females.” He fixes his gaze on me. “And you are to stay away from them.”
Of course. It will not matter if I walk next to the females or ahead of them—resonance will decide.
And perhaps today, resonance will decide in my favor.
ELLY
It’s funny; out of all the humans on the ice planet—Not-Hoth as I’ve overheard someone call it—Liz seems like the one that belongs the most. Kira and Georgie and a few others that I’ve met seem like nice, normal young moms.
Liz seems like a Valkyrie.
She marches at our side, wearing light furs compared to our swaddles, and wears her snowshoes like she was born to them. There’s a bow strapped to her back, knives at her belt, and her long blonde hair is drawn back into a tight, no-nonsense braid. She barks commands at us as we waddle like ducklings behind her. Someone mentioned that Liz has two young children, but she doesn’t strike me as all that motherly to us. Her mate is a big scarred brute that scares me every time I see him, so maybe she’s learned to be fierce to keep up with him. She’s got a sharp tongue and she’s not afraid to use it.
Like right now. “Come on, Pinkie Pie. I know you can pick your feet up higher than that,” she calls to Brooke, who’s lagging behind for at least the fifth time in the last hour. “Don’t make me come back there and get you.”
“I’m tired,” Brooke yells back at her. “I’m not an Amazon like you! I can’t do this!”
Liz only grins and jogs back to her side. “The sooner we get there, the sooner you get warm. You want warm, don’t you?”
I’m pretty sure Brooke flips her the bird. I’m also pretty sure Liz sees it and laughs. Her bright mood makes me relax a little, though.
It’s been a weird morning. The moment we were told that it was the day to go hunting and get our cooties, it’s been racing around non-stop. I’m exhausted from the walk, and we haven’t even made it to the hunt yet. I managed to steal a few mouthfuls of food when Liz brought out rations and then ate a big chunk of it, figuring that she wouldn’t poison herself, but it isn’t enough to give me much energy. Every step feels like exhaustion, and the snowshoes I’m wearing make it difficult to lift my feet. We’re all struggling, though, except for tall Kate, who must be in better shape than the rest of us.
Half of the hunting party ranges ahead of our straggling group. Liz’s scarred, scary husband and another pair of hunters bring up the rear, but the majority are far ahead. They watch us closely, and there’s far too much interest in their eyes when they look at us. It makes me feel uneasy to catch them glancing back, because I know these are probably the ones that want mates.
They’re checking us out for potential.
The thought makes me huddle deeper into my furs, pulling them tighter around my face, until the only thing exposed are my eyes and my dirty mop of hair. I’m extra glad for my itchy, dirty filth today because they look at me, and then quickly move on to gaze at Kate, or Brooke, or Summer. That suits me just fine. I don’t want to be anyone’s mate. I want to be my own person. I want to be free.
It’s cold as hell, the wind ripping at our layers of clothing, but the suns are high in the sky. I can’t say that they’re bright—I suspect this planet’s farther away from its suns than Earth was to its, but it makes me happy to see the blue sky and breathe in the fresh air, no matter how frigid.
One of the hunters far up ahead stops in his tracks and waves his spear in the air, then makes a gesture. Liz raises a hand in acknowledgment and then jogs to the front of our smal
l line. “Okay, ladies. The hunters have spotted our critter. This thing’s called a sa-kohtsk and it looks like a furry Macy’s Thanksgiving Day float with toothpick legs. I don’t want you to freak out if you see it, because we’re going to have to get up close and personal with it. They don’t eat people, so don’t worry about that. And they move slow. The hunters are going to bring it down, and then we’ll move in so you can get your cootie. Any questions?”
“Yeah, can we go home yet?” Brooke asks.
“Very funny, Pinkie Pie. You can go home once you’ve gotten your cootie.” Liz grins. “You guys are lucky this thing is so close. Sometimes we’ve had to walk for days to find a sa-kohtsk.”
This is close? I feel like we’ve been walking for hours, my fingers numb from cold, and judging from the cranky sounds the other humans make, I’m not the only one who feels it. But Liz isn’t panting with exertion, or even slowing down, so I press on.
She leads us toward a cluster of spindly trees that look more like hairy toothpicks than actual trees. They’re a soft pink color, and when I reach out to rest my hand on one, I notice it’s not exactly sturdy—and that my hand comes away sticky. Ugh. I wipe it on my furs and shoot a furtive glance at the others to see if anyone noticed.
That’s when I hear it.
Thud.
Thud.
Thudthud.
My insides seem to shake with every thump, and for a moment, I wonder if someone’s throwing boulders off of one of the distant cliffs. The ground itself feels as if it’s quivering.
“Look sharp, ladies,” Liz calls out, and points off into the distance.
I glance over and suck in a breath.
There, lumbering in the snow, is the biggest damn creature I’ve ever seen. It’s hideous and terrifying all at once. The mouth is enormous, and the four glowing eyes set in the head remind me of a spider. There’s fur all over the damn thing, and Liz is right—the legs are toothpick-like and long. As each foot steps to the ground, the earth shakes again. Jesus. I feel a sense of panic at the sight of it, stepping backward.
“Lord almighty,” Gail breathes.
“What is that thing?” Kate asks.
“It’s the sa-kohtsk, and what our boys are hunting today. Stick close to me,” Liz says, and she looks unafraid. “We’ve got the best seats in the house for the show.”
We huddle closer to her, as if Liz can somehow protect us if that thing veers in our direction.
It’s slow moving, the sa-kohtsk, and after watching it for a few steps, I’m fascinated by its lumbering gait. It almost moves as if it’s slogging through water, which I find fascinating. Maybe its big body is too heavy for it to move faster, but it doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, even when it gives a low bellow of anger and I see the blue bodies racing alongside the legs of the thing. They look tiny next to it, even though I know they’re just as overgrown in their own way.
“Taushen’s already right on it,” Liz murmurs. “This shouldn’t take too long, then.”
I watch the hunters move around the much larger animal, and find myself fascinated. They’re graceful on their feet, racing next to it and darting in and out between its legs as if playing the world’s scariest game of chicken. As they move, the creature veers in one direction, only to have another hunter race up on the creature’s side and begin to swipe at the legs, herding it in the other direction. It makes a low moaning noise and continues to lumber forward, churning endless amounts of snow in its wake. The creature heads toward our copse of trees, but Liz doesn’t move an inch.
“Um,” Summer says. “Should we move?”
“Nah,” Liz tells her, never taking her gaze off the hunt. “They won’t let it get near us.”
She’s right. In the next moment, the hunters are racing alongside the treeline and jabbing spears at the enormous legs, herding it carefully away from us. I notice out of my peripheral vision that Gail and the others are taking a few steps back, but I don’t move. I’m too fascinated by the hunt. They’re so graceful and fast. I’m filled with envy at how free they look, how strong. I want to be like that.
As they race past, the hunters get close enough that I can make out individuals instead of just blue blurs. The one in the lead is unfamiliar to me, his hair long and flowing behind him as he yips and slashes at the big creature’s legs. A tall one races on the far side of him, and he’s got a wide smile of delight on his face even as he dodges one of the enormous feet. They look like they’re having fun. One of the other men skirts wide, moving close to us, and shoots a scowl in our direction, as if he disapproves of how close we are.
I’m not surprised to see that it’s Bek. That one always seems to be frowning. But Liz doesn’t pay any attention to him, and so I don’t move, either. If anything, I stand taller and straighter. We’re not doing anything wrong.
A few more people race past, and the creature stumbles, starting to lose its footing with the constant harassment from the hunters.
“Might wanna turn away if you don’t like blood,” Liz says, arms crossed as she watches. “This next part’s not gonna be pretty.”
I don’t turn away, though. I want to see what happens.
In the next moment, before anyone can ask, one of the hunters makes a flying leap, knife in hand, and grabs on to one of the creature’s tall, spindly legs. He stabs at the bend of it, and then blood arcs through the air, steaming and bright red.
I suck in a breath at the sight, surprised at the brutality of it. The big sa-kohtsk stumbles, falling forward onto one knee, and then the hunters swarm over it. More blood spatters the snow as they attack it with knives and spears, and I watch, horrified and entranced at the same time, as Bek moves to the creature’s head and stabs his spear into one glowing eye, and is promptly soaked with blood.
Someone behind me gags.
“Yeah, it’s not pretty,” Liz says mildly. “But it gets the job done. Once everyone stops puking, we’re moving in, so grab your stuff and be ready to move. We have to get in there before the blood freezes because the cooties don’t live long in this environment.”
We wait while Gail—strong, capable Gail, of all people—finishes puking in the snow, and then Liz herds us forward. The hunters still move over the carcass of the thing, calling out to each other and laughing, the high of the hunt still coursing through their veins. I know how they feel, I think. It’s like I’ve been given a shot of adrenaline just from watching them. I step carefully through the blood-covered snow, keeping close to the others even as I stare in fascination at the big carcass of the creature. It’s so huge. Wow. There was nothing this big in the zoo I was kept in for so long, and my memories of elephants on Earth don’t compare to this thing in the slightest. The closest thing I can think of is like a humpback whale on stilts. The mental image makes me smile, though it falters when several of the hunters slit the chest open and more blood pours out. Eesh. So much blood.
Gail begins to gag again, and we pause, waiting for her. I notice I’m standing close to one of the long legs, and I feel a twinge of sadness that such a magnificent, albeit weird-looking, creature has to die so I can live. “I’m sorry,” I whisper quietly to it, not that it can hear me.
“Grab one side, and I’ll get the other,” one of the hunters says. “Let us make this quick.”
As I watch, the tall, lanky hunter moves next to the quick one, and they grab at the thing’s rib cage.
Meanwhile, Bek moves toward our group, a thunderous frown on his hard face. “What is taking so long? Come forward.”
“Oh, hold your horses,” Liz tells him. “We’ve got a puker.”
“Then—”
Anything else he says is lost as the two hunters pull the ribs apart with a thunderous crack. As they do, the creature’s body jerks. I scramble away a few feet, trying to get away from the legs because I don’t want to be kicked.
Bek snarls and tackles me.
BEK
She is running away.
Again.
The small, dirty
human with the feisty mind is trying to run again? Anger and frustration explode through me as she backs away a few feet, her big eyes wide with fear. I remember Leezh was full of fear when given her khui, and others fought as well. This one is a runner.
Instinct takes over and I grab her, knocking her to the ground. I keep my grip loose, careful not to hurt her.
She makes a noise then, a little scream of horror. Kicking at me, she scrambles out of my grip. Her foot connects with my jaw, and I nearly bite my tongue off with the force of her blow. I am determined, though; she will not get away.
Mine.
I growl and snag her ankle even as she scuttles backward, and she makes another awful little crying sound. She’s thrashing in earnest now, her eyes wild like a trapped dvisti. I know this one. I know she will not stop flailing until she is free, no matter how much she might hurt herself.
So I hold on tighter and use my arm to pin both of hers against her sides. She’s thrashing angrily, her feet kicking and hammering against my thighs. If she were any bigger, she would do real damage, I realize with rueful admiration. As it is, the only thing that hurts is my jaw.
“Bek, what the fuck?” Leezh calls out.
“She was running,” I grit out, carrying my squirming burden toward Taushen and Harrec, who are carefully pulling the heart out of the sa-kohtsk’s chest. “Give this one a khui first.”
“You’re scaring her,” the human called Chail tells me. “She doesn’t like to be touched!”
I ignore her. This one cannot keep running. Not now, when she needs her khui. I grab her chin with my free hand and do my best to block out her whimpers, though I feel like a monster even as I do. “I will hold her still. Harrec, cut her, and Taushen, give her a khui. Do so quickly.”
They nod and get to work. Harrec leans in with his knife, giving me a reluctant look before speaking to the small human that even now squirms in my arms as if she will fight until her dying breath. “Forgive me, little one.”