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“That big hon-kee dragon,” R’jaal teases, caressing my butt, “—has not yet returned from Croatoan. He took Sam and S’ssah to visit his family.”
Right. Because Hannah mentioned something about Sam being uneasy around the newcomers and it was making Sessah go into protective overdrive. Hannah gets all the good gossip. It’s a shame I can’t really put faces to the names. “Of course. I was just curious. One person doesn’t have to do everything. It just seemed easy for a dragon to do.”
He chuckles. “Just because A’tar is very capable does not mean the rest of us should sit around and be lazy. I will be taking the newcomer S’karr with me. He is the tater with the green scales.”
Someday I’m going to figure out why they’re all called ‘taters’ for some reason. “Gotcha. I’m probably going to go say hi to Tia and see how she’s doing.”
“Have her make you some tea,” he tells me, kissing my brow. “And if you need anything, find Leezh or R’hosh.” He pauses, as if a new worry is occuring to him. “Or L’ren.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I reassure him.
R’jaal hesitates. “Perhaps I should stay—”
I mock-push him toward the door with a laugh. “Go!”
I stay inside for a little longer, tidying up, just so R’jaal doesn’t turn around and come to check on me again. I don’t want him to feel as if he has to hover over me. At some point I have to be my own person, and today is just as good a day to start as any. I’ll visit Tia, drink some tea, maybe get her to show me how to knit, and take things one day at a time.
One positive day at a time, I vow. No more clone moping. If everyone else can function normally—clones and human survivors both—so can I.
When I finally emerge, dressed in all my layers and my new tunic and leggings, though, Tia isn’t around. I shake the shell-chimes in front of her hut that act as a doorbell, but no one comes out, and it seems rude to peek in under the leather.
An older boy turns and heads in my direction, jogging toward me with a younger boy at his side. “Are you looking for Tia?”
“Yes. Is she not in?” It’s an obvious question, but I need to ask it anyhow.
“Pak saw her leave with Rem’eb earlier.” He gestures at his smaller friend, who clutches a shell and a leather pouch in his hand. “They went for a walk. We’re gathering shells for a little while. If we see them come back, do you want me to tell her to come find you?”
“Yes, please,” I say. “Tell her Rosalind was looking for her. R’jaal’s mate.”
He smiles, his expression sweet. “Everyone knows who you are.”
“I don’t know who anyone is. Not even you,” I confess, and gesture at his buddy. “Though now I know that’s Pak.”
Pak smiles shyly at me and his little stub tail starts shaking, like a bunny rabbit. It’s honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. The other boy grins, equally bashful. “I’m Rukhar. My father is Rukh and my mother is Harlow.”
“I think I’ve met them.” I pause and add, “Briefly. I just hope there isn’t a quiz.”
“What’s a quiz?”
Oh boy. Because of course they don’t have quizzes here. How to explain? “A test where you get asked a lot of questions on the spot and if you don’t answer properly”—I try to think of what would be a proper sort of punishment and decide to go the silly route—“they wipe a booger on you.”
Pak squeals in horror and Rukhar just laughs. “No they don’t!”
“Okay, so they don’t.” I find myself smiling. “But it sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”
He laughs again and gestures at the beach. “Want to come hunt shells with us, Rosalind?”
“You know what? That sounds like fun. Lead the way.” I hold my hand out and Pak immediately takes it, beaming up at me, and I feel a little easier today than I have in a while. If I do get pregnant, is my kiddo going to look like these two? Act like these two? That’s…kind of wonderful.
It’s strange to think of myself as a potential mom. I’m still working through all my other issues. But as one small, sandy hand clutches mine and Pak beams up at me, I think I like the idea. I imagine R’jaal holding our son’s hand opposite me and my heart squeezes with emotion.
Maybe resonance was right to tap me and R’jaal the moment we met.
I walk on the beach with the two boys and gather shells with them for a while, and we play guessing games as to what each shell came from. Some of them look very similar to shells from Earth, but I pick up one that looks like a hubcap, right down to the perfect hole in the center, and I have to admit I have no idea what could have lived in this one. “Maybe an alien.”
