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The only people I’ve met are carrying fucking spears and wearing furs. They’re not going to fly me home.
I’ve been putting my head in the sand this whole time because the realization is too much to process. I’m stranded here on some weird corner of the universe with no way home, and someone wants to knock me up and make me his wife permanently. And to make things even worse, he’s really nice and sexy and it’s not a horrifying idea, so what does that mean for me?
Panic hits me, hard and fast. I pant as I walk, both frustrated and terrified of the future. What am I going to do?
Our straggling group winds through the rocky countryside, and I stare at our harsh surroundings. There are purple—purple!!—mountains in the distance, covered by a heavy cap of snow. We’re in a valley at the moment, surrounded by high cliffs, and the land here looks as if it was carved into a Swiss cheese maze. There are endless cliffs cut by valleys, and cave-like entrances everywhere. I have no idea where we’re going, just that we’re following R’jaal, and the panic inside me continues to rise, because this looks nothing like the spot where I landed, with its strange moss and the other pods and what if that’s my only way back?
Or what if worse aliens come looking for me to retrieve me?
Even though R’jaal’s presence is making me panicky at the moment, I wish he was at my side to hold my hand. Right now he’s leading our group, and I’ve been falling further and further behind. My feet feel wet and cold as we trudge through the snow, and I’ve never felt more out of shape and helpless as I do now. I lean heavily on my spear and pause, gasping for air, as a panic attack threatens to overwhelm me.
“Hey,” Tia says, slowing down to move to my side. “Can I walk with you for a bit?”
I suck in a gulp of bitterly cold air and nod, putting on a bright, fake smile. “Sure.”
“You okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Just fine.”
“You…don’t seem fine.” She glances over at me.
I give a high-pitched, nervous laugh that sounds awful even to my own ears. “I’m fine. Really.”
Tia shrugs. “Okay then. So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?”
Where am I from? God, that’s a great question. I desperately try to come up with an answer, but it’s like that portion of my mind has been wiped clean. I get a vague image of a ranch-style house, but that’s it. “Um, here and there. Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
She chuckles. “I guess not. We’re all officially Team Not-Hoth now, I suppose.”
Not-Hoth, is that what this place is called? Does that mean it never gets warm? I squeeze my eyes shut as I trudge forward. Nope. Not gonna dwell on that right now. I can only take so much bad news at once. “Can I ask how long you’ve been here?”
“About four years now, give or take. The seasons are a little different here, so sometimes it’s hard to tell. Harlow—that’s another woman you’ll meet soon—used to keep a calendar but the days didn’t quite match up the same and I’m pretty sure she gave up. You just kinda go with the flow and watch the plants in their cycles. When the hraku stems start pushing through the snow, you know it’s the bitter season. And when all the dvisti start heading out of the mountains, you know the brutal season is on the way.” She eyes me as we walk. “Let me know if it’s too much of an info-dump for you to take in all at once. I know how overwhelming things can be when you first arrive. I assume you just got here, somehow? You have that dazed look to you.”
Strangely enough, talking to her is helping some of my panic subside. “Yeah, this is all new to me. I woke up in a pod in the snow, ran for cover, and then one of the four-armed guys captured me. A little while later they threw R’jaal in the cell with me and the rest is history. You?”
“Long story.” She pauses, eyeing the hikers ahead, and I notice her gaze rests on Rem’eb, who is now being carried by Set’nef this morning, over the large alien’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Long, strange story.”
I’ll bet it is. “And is there…any way home?”
Tia turns to look at me, and the pity in her gaze tells me everything.
I bite back a sigh of dismay. “I thought so.” The panic churns in my gut with the morning’s breakfast, and I feel sick. I don’t know what home I’d be returning to, but having the option would be nice. “Please just tell me it gets better.”
