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“And that survivor is hungry and needs supplies,” R’jaal agrees. He seems relieved. “This makes sense.”
Bah. My idea has far more merit. I still do not know if I believe this tale of fruit-stealing survivors. “Then it is another outcast? We scoured every leaf on the island. If someone from Long Tail had survived, we would have known it. If it was Strong Arm or Tall Horn or Shadow Cat, they would have come home.”
“There is a logical explanation,” H’rlow says. “We simply need to find it.”
R’kh exchanges a look with R’hosh. “We should send hunters. Strong ones. No kits. No females. If they ate fruit once, they will return for more.”
R’hosh gives a curt nod. “We will send a party out in the morning. A’tar, you stay. If it is not a friendly outcast, you might be needed to guard the village.”
“I will go,” R’jaal says.
“And I,” I add automatically. I am determined not to let the Tall Horn leader best me at anything.
“Oh no,” Leezh says to me. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve knocked up Flor. You’re too distracted to be useful to anyone except your mate. You’re staying right here and playing house with Flordeliza until your cooties settle down.”
Bah. I hate that she is right. I cannot leave F’lor’s side. Not right now. Not when we sing so strongly each time we cross paths. I rub my chest…and then rub it a little harder when I catch R’jaal scowling in my direction. That makes me feel a little better. “I will tell my clan to stay close to camp, then. You should take A’tam with you. He has the best nose of us all. He will tell you what he scents.”
And he will tell me everything R’jaal says.
R’hosh gestures at all of us. “Spread the word. The fruit caves are off-limits for visiting now. We will send a group of strong hunters with R’jaal in the morning to investigate. Once they determine it is safe, we will open the fruit caves again. Until then, no one goes there but R’jaal and his group. And no females.” His mate puts her hands on her hips, but he raises a hand to fend off her objections. “If it is an outcast, he will be unpredictable around a female. You know this to be true.”
“Damn it, I do,” Leezh mutters. “Always sidelining the vaginas, this damn planet.”
* * *
I speakto the Shadow Cat clan members—and Juth—one by one.
Juth does not recall any other outcasts, but he does not dismiss the possibility that another could have hidden themselves and survived. There were always others, he says, that had left their small clan and never returned. But at the same time, he does not think it is possible that they would find the fruit cave and eat all of its contents. “Even Pak and I could not fill our bellies with bags full of unripe fruit, no matter how hungry we were. And there would be rinds somewhere, surely?”
He is right. But according to A’tar, there was no sign of any such thing.
D’see and O’jek, however, have different ideas.
“So my old master had gardens,” D’see says, her expression eager as she stirs a watery-looking pouch over their fire. “And those gardens had a lot of maintenance bots.”
“Baahts,” I echo. I have never heard of such a thing. “What are baahts?”
“Bots are technology. Independent machines that handle the maintenance of such things. My master had bots that would prune his flowers, or add fertilizer to something that needed a bit more attention. Weeding. Spraying for insects. Things like that.” She raises her spoon in the air. “They would fly around or crawl between the plants, depending on the type of bots. There could be some in the cave that are on the fritz. Maybe they had some sort of program boot up that is making them strip the plants of the fruit, thinking they’re doing the right thing. And I saw a maintenance door when I fell down inside the fruit cave.”
“I have never seen such things,” O’jek says, leaning over and sniffing the pouch over the fire. “And you have added too much water, my mate. It should be making a thick broth.”
“Oh, shoot. What do we do now?” She looks distressed. “Did I ruin it?”
He shakes his head and touches her shoulder comfortingly. “We add more ingredients and more herbs.” He lifts his chin and gives me an amused look. “And we give the extra food to I’rec and his new mate. I hope you are hungry, my friend.”
For D’see’s cooking? No one isthathungry. “Tell me more about these baahts. Do they camouflage? Like we do?” I let my color shift to demonstrate, turning the same dark color as the nearby shadows. “Is that why we cannot see them?”
“Oh no, I don’t imagine they camouflage. If they’re like the bots back at my old master’s gardens, they’re programmed to only come out when no one is around. It’s so they don’t ruin the experience by showing how the sausage is made, so to speak.”
I look over at O’jek to see if her words made sense to him. He just shrugs.
“So what do you think we should do to stop these baahts?” I ask, more interested in a solution than hearing more about her master and his gardens.
She holds a knife awkwardly and begins to cut a root, and I am relieved when O’jek takes the knife from her before she hurts herself and demonstrates how to cut properly. “Right. Um, well, it got me to thinking. We don’t know that there are bots after all. I’m just throwing theories out there. But Penny did say that when she and S’bren went to the Ancestors’ Ship, they found some old writing on the walls. And when I fell and saw the writing on the door in the cave, it reminded me that I can read Old Sakh. That’s the language the ancestors spoke from a long time ago. It was a fun hobby for me to learn their words because my master was on a museum board and we got invited to a lot of parties to stare at artifacts. I thought it might impress if I learned an old language…” She grimaces at O’jek. “I’m sorry if I’m rambling about Johani again.”
“It is all right, my heart. We are resonance mates now. That changes everything.” He smiles patiently at her and wiggles the knife. “Now, watch. I cut in this direction, away from myself.”
She watches him, biting her lip. “You’re so good with your hands, O’jek. So strong.”
