Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I snort at that. The Shadow Cat hunter has the best nose of any, it is true, but he is as dense as a kaari hatchling. A’tar the drakoni is with us, too, but he has not indicated any knowledge of the elders’ special ma-sheens like the human females and M’dok. My fellow Tall Horn, M’tok and S’bren, are reliable and crafty hunters, good with a spear, but they are as clueless as I am when it comes to the strange things that the outsiders bring from the stars with them. “A’tar did not want females with us,” I remind her. “In case there truly is a stranger we have not met yet. Remember how Juth stole R’ven.”
T’ia looks up and gives me a patient stare. “You and I both know no one else is getting dropped on this planet, R’jaal. Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.” She shakes her head. “But I appreciate the company. Here I wanted to come back and show everyone how I’ve matured and I completely lost it when I found out about I’rec.”
“I understand.”
She shakes her head at me. “I don’t know that you do. I feel we’re on different pages.”
Pages? I do not know the word. Does she mean the stone cliff we stand upon? I glance down at my feet.
T’ia chuckles and then swipes at her face, an indication that she is crying once more. “Never mind. I just need to work through it. My shit got turned upside down four years ago when we got here and I was able to figure it out. I’ll figure this out, too. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
I hesitate, because I should be taking this time to get to know her better. All signs point that I am to resonate to her, and yet…I am relieved at the thought of leaving her presence. Her tears make me short-tempered, which is unusual for me. I am always calm and collected, but lately I have been feeling irritable. Moody. I thought at first that it was because of my disappointment with F’lor, but now I worry it is something else.
It might be resonance. Why is it that the thought does not fill me with the joy it should? I eye T’ia, who sniffs again, and I realize it is because I do not want to resonate to her. To me, she is like a younger sister.
An annoying one.
I rub my chest. “I am going to visit S’bren and the others. Shout if you need anything.”
She waves me away, not looking up from her neet-eeng.
Moving to the lip of the ledge, I jump down, grabbing the vines with ease and lowering myself down the cliff. Grabbing the vines like this reminds me of my time in the tall trees back home on the island, and I am struck with homesickness. Things were so much simpler back on the island. Everything was green and warm, and there were no females to fight over or feel the lack of.
Now it feels as if I am the only one not worthy of a mate. As if the ancestor spirits and all the khuis have decided that R’jaal is not strong enough, not devoted enough, not enough to join to a female.
I make my way down the steep, vine-covered cliffs down to the bottom, where A’tar and M’tok sit next to the pool and S’bren works on repairing his spear. They look up the moment I arrive.
“Do you smell that?” S’bren asks.
I sniff the air, then shrug. “Smell what?”
“Nothing,” says M’tok irritably. “That is the point. There are no smells. No metlak smells. No people smells, nothing that would indicate where all the fruit has gone. Whatever it is you are imagining you smell, it is not there.”
“I smell mushrooms,” S’bren says. “Like we had on the island. The ones that grew under the ferns.”
“Mushrooms have no smell,” M’tok points out. “Ask A’tam if he smells anything.”
“Ask A’tam what?” The Shadow Cat hunter emerges from the water, pushing his mane back from his brow. He looks over at the others.
A’tar stretches out on the warm rocks, hands behind his head. “They wish to know if you smell anything.”
“I smell S’bren’s feet,” A’tam jokes, and the other two snort with amusement.
I scowl at their humor, because it sits poorly with my already irritated mood. “This is not a casual hunting party. There is a serious problem here in the caves. We need to pay attention and find the answer. The tribe has entrusted us with this.”
“Oh, were you busy hunting the trail above?” M’tok asks, all sarcasm. “I did not realize. Here I thought you were flirting with T’ia.”
“Be silent.” I move to one of the vines and touch it, as if a quick examination of the leaves will provide answers. We have already looked many times. There are no broken vines, no half-eaten fruit left behind, no pits from the stone-fruit centers. All of the fruit that hung heavy on the vines here, for anyone to forage and take, has simply vanished.