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“Indeed.” I do not know what it means, but I can guess. “Change happens when it is meant to, I suppose.”
“I suppose so.” F’lor stretches her legs out, leaning back on her hands, and stares out at the water. Then, she turns her head and looks over at me. “How are you?”
An excellent question. I consider this, and smile, my heart full at the thought of my mate waiting for me. Of R’slind playing with the kits. Of what the future holds for me and her, together. “I am beyond joy.”
“Oh, good.” Her smile of relief is immediate. “Because I’m really fucking happy, and it was going to be a bitch to have to pretend not to be.”
“I’rec treats you well, then?” It is not a pairing I would have thought would work, and yet the khui always knows.
She chuckles. “We are excellent. We’ve always been friends and see things similarly, but I didn’t realize how well we’d work together until resonance hit. Then it just felt…right. Like everything slid into place.”
I grunt. I know what she means. I felt so alone and miserable for so long, and then the moment R’slind appeared, I knew exactly what I had been waiting for, and why. It felt as if the suns had come out from behind the clouds for the first time in my life. So yes, I understand what she means very, very well.
“So, I don’t want to be that person, but I think your Rosalind is avoiding me.” F’lor glances over in my direction. “Does she hate me because of our history?”
I consider this. “I do not think she hates. But I do know she has been struggling with sadness lately.”
“Sadness?”
“She is a cloan,” I say simply. “And it hurts her to realize this. She has memories that are lies, and she worries there is something wrong with her because she was made like Gren.”
“Oh. Yeah, I should have realized the clone thing would be bothering her. I’ve been with the other newcomers since they awoke and they were hit with the news that they were clones the moment they woke up. I think they’ve had longer to adjust to it, but I can see how it threw Rosalind off, if she didn’t know that until just now.” She eyes me with sympathy. “Just give her time and let her figure herself out. She’ll come around.”
I nod. “I would take the pain of it from her if I could.”
“Look, we have all been through some shit to get where we are today. Your island exploded. I was kidnapped from Earth. She was cloned. No one planned any of this. But everyone here is a survivor, and I bet your gal is no different. She’ll have a good cry, pick herself up, and then get on with living. It’s what we all do.”
She is right. Of course she is right. But it is difficult to understand another’s pain when you are mired in your own. R’slind just needs time.
“Hey, look. Your new friend is with the taters.” F’lor points down the beach.
I lean forward, gazing in the direction that she points. Sure enough, Set’nef stands with the other newcomers as V’dis instructs them on how to hold a spear. They are a strange group—some have scales, and some have whiskers. There is one massive male with a strange gray-blue hide and he stands next to the human male, making him look delicate in comparison. Set’nef stands a pace behind them, two spears in two of his hands, the other two hands on his hips as he listens intently.
“So he is,” I say.
“I thought he couldn’t speak the language.”
“He cannot. But stabbing things with a spear does not require words. As long as he gets the grip correct, he will figure it out.” I am amused at how quickly Set’nef has decided he will become part of the tribe. Not a day has passed without him throwing himself into learning how to survive in the snows. He still does not speak the words we speak, but he is determined to learn everything we put before him.
“Huh. Determined guy. He’ll fit right in with the other taters, especially if he starts chasing skirts right away.” She wiggles her feet in front of her. “He’s not a creep, is he?”
“Creep?”
“A crappy person? Tries to touch women inappropriately?”
“Oh. No. He was kind to R’slind, he and his brother both. They did not come in our food bag once.”
F’lor leans forward and stares at me, hard. “I…find it weird that you had to be so specific about that.”
“There was another ancestor who was unpleasant,” I say, and then watch the other “newcomers” jab their spears, following V’dis’s lead. “Why do you call them taters?”
“Because Liz finds it hilarious and she’s a jerk. And the longer it goes on, the more it sticks.” F’lor sounds amused, though. “Hey, we’re good, right? Still friends?”
