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“She’s fine,” Skarr states bluntly, glaring daggers at O’jek. “Leave her alone.”
O’jek turns to me, his expression calm. “If you see the tracks, let me know. If you require anything—speak up.”
I nod quietly, and O’jek leaves, Skarr immediately moving to my side and glowering. The big green alien matches his steps to mine, and when I don’t speak up, he finally does. “He needs to leave you alone.”
“He has a mate. He was just checking on me. He was being nice.”
“I do not want anyone being nice to my mate. She can take care of herself.” He scowls at the backs of the people ahead of us. “Did he notice your injury?”
“No.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Good.”
I give him a puzzled look. “It’s just a finger. I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”
But Skarr shakes his head. “In my experience, a wounded gladiator is a liability. You never let anyone know you are hurting because you can be gotten rid of in an instant.”
It’s appalling to think about, that he would conflate an injury with death. But then I think about what O’jek said about “taking care of” the snow-cat and I realize I don’t know enough about these people and our situation. I’m thinking like a human back on Earth, just like Skarr is thinking like a gladiator, and trying to keep me safe. “I hope you’re wrong.”
He flashes a smile at me. “I hope I am, too.”
ChapterSixteen
SKARR
The beach village is full of many nosy people, just as I remember it from my brief excursion with I’rec from the other day. They are all prepared for newcomers, with a large fire blazing in the midst of the village and a feast being prepared. I am on alert, watching over my mate carefully until I see that one male limps amongst them with a false limb. He has four arms and looks strong, but if they did not get rid of him when he lost his leg, then it is safe for Vivi. I point him out to her and she nods.
But then there are people everywhere, and we are being greeted by all kinds. I lose track of Vivi as strangers greet me, and amongst them are two a’ani who claim to be gladiators as well. There is a splice here, too, though he avoids conversing with the rest of us, and the gladiators all cluster together and discuss battles. Ashtar, the big drakoni, joins in.
“I promise, there are no gladiator battles here, no contests of strength,” he says, amused at our insistence. “Sometimes we have games on the beach to celebrate, but they are silly games like catching the most fish, and everyone participates.”
“Then what is the point?” Chalath asks, clearly perturbed. “If we do not fight to show our glory, what is the point of having gladiators here?”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Vordis points out. “You were abandoned. No one cares if you are a gladiator or not. Now all you can do is survive and help the tribe. Trust me, there is life outside of the arena.”
Valmir says nothing, but his narrowed eyes say he does not quite believe this. I do not know if I believe this, either.
“And this one already resonated,” Ashtar says, grabbing me by the back of my neck and pulling me into a headlock.
I twist, trying to break out of his grasp, and slap my tail against the back of his knee. He releases me with a laugh, and I immediately shove him. And laugh, because he is grinning like the sparring pleases him. “Just because there is no arena does not mean we are helpless,” I point out. “We can remain ready for battle.”
“Oh, there are plenty of things to keep you occupied here,” Vordis agrees, arms folded as he eyes us. “You will have your hands full hunting and fishing and doing your share, trust me. There is always more that needs to be done.”
“Like finding another khui for Kyth,” Valmir says, voice sly as he looks over at the big moden splice.
Kyth just rubs his chest, grimacing.
“Not again?” I ask.
Kyth shrugs. “Sabrina says it is fading again. I will worry about it when it happens. Today is for meeting the village.”
“And impressing the females,” Chalath adds. He eyes the group by the fire, where the women are talking excitedly with the other humans and ignoring the rest of us. “Perhaps we should have more battles tomorrow to try and force resonance like you did, Skarr.”
“Force…resonance?” Thrand—the other a’ani—asks, and then snorts with amusement, elbowing the big splice named Gren. “As my mate would say, yeah right.”
“It happened,” I tell him, standing taller with pride. “I sparred with another and won, and my mate’s khui was so impressed that it immediately resonated to me.”
“Which one is your mate?” Ashtar asks.
