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I do not return just yet, but scan the beach, looking for others of her clan. I do not see anyone, but the creatures block most of the beach. If they are wise, they have crept to the rocky cliffs for protection as well. Perhaps I will hunt for them tomorrow, so I can tell her if they live or not. For now, though, my son and the female's safety are my biggest concern.
I will control what I can. The death of the Great Smoking Mountain and the destruction of my small tribe have taught me that. Small victories, day by day.
Staying close to the cliffs, I walk back to the safety of the cave and check on my son and the female. Pak is at her side, petting her mane, and her skin is as pale and sweaty as ever. She looks miserable. Pak glances up when I come in, his little face worried. "She is thirsty, Papa. I am, too."
Thirst. We need water if we are to stay here. There is a stream of fresh water that erupts from the rocks a short distance away, but it is near the creatures.
We will not live if we do not have something to drink, though…so back out I go.
12
STEPH
The pain in my ankle feels as if it's getting worse by the minute. I pant through it, trying to manage the feeling. I just need to hold out until Veronica can show up and take a look at my foot. It'll be fine. We have a tribe healer. Veronica will fix it…provided Veronica and everyone else weren't killed.
Pak pets my hair with a tiny, sticky hand, and I feel awful that he's the one comforting me. We've just been through a traumatic experience. I should be the one comforting a small child and reassuring him. Instead, I can barely see straight through the haze of pain. "Everything's fine, Pak," I manage. "Everything's good. It's just another crazy thing about this planet. Doesn't mean it's bad. Just different. We'll figure it out."
"Is okay, Steff," he tells me in that strange language of theirs. "Papa will fix your foot."
As if it's been called, another fresh wave of pain shoots up my leg. I pant harder, and then there's a new hand touching my face, the skin surprisingly cool, the fingers callused. I open my eyes to see Juth standing over me, a look of concern on his face. He's got sand in his hair, so much that it drips onto my face as he leans toward me. I sputter as it gets into my mouth, and he gives me an utterly sheepish look, touching his head and shaking the excess free.
"I have water for you," he says. "Can you sit up?"
Can I? That is an excellent question. I look over at Pak, who is gulping thirstily from the water bladder, and my mouth feels as dry as the sand in Juth's hair. I should drink something. I try to sit up, and it sends fresh pain throbbing up my leg. My breath hisses and I want to collapse again, but the knowledge that a child is watching me with worried eyes makes me try to smile through the worst of it. "I'm okay," I promise. "I'm okay."
"Let me help," Juth says, and then he moves behind me. His strong hands grip me under the arm and he practically carries me over to the wall so I can lean against it.
It helps, and once I'm upright, I rest my head against the craggy rock, my eyes closing again. I hate that I'm being so weak. Normally I'm strong and capable, the one ready to lend a hand. Now Juth is having to take care of me, and it's embarrassing.
He tugs at my fur layers. "You are sweating. Take some of these off." He pulls on my clothing, carefully removing it and making noises at the leather knots I have holding everything to my body. His hands graze over my breasts and I stiffen, but when I look at his face, his expression is blank. Accidental. Obviously accidental, I tell myself. He might not even like boobs, since I'm a rather busty sort and Farli—the only sa-khui woman I've seen—is as lean as they come. So I let him strip all of my layers off until he gets to the leather band I have over my breasts. It's tied with a knot in the front and provides a pathetic amount of support, so I keep a second band crisscrossed over it to minimize jiggling.
Juth gives it an absolutely baffled look. "Are you already wounded? You are bandaged here?"
I shake my head, putting a hand to my boobs. "I can't explain a bra and 'breast support' with our language barrier, so I'm not even going to try. This stays on." This time, when he reaches for it again, I smack his fingers lightly, like he did to me earlier.
