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But then more people start to trickle in toward the fire, hunters returning from their treks. It gets crowded and noisy, people talking over each other. A big alien with four arms kisses his mate and child and then immediately starts to butcher a large animal nearby, which makes several of the newcomers retreat. I stay where I am, pulling another stitch through the tunic Gail is helping me with. I can manage, I pep talk myself. It’s not so bad being around a bunch of people who all know each other and are all nice enough. They will be my new family. I can handle this. I can.
Then I feel it.
My khui hums in my chest, the song picking up. The dragon flies overhead, and I catch a glimpse of green on his back. Just Skarr being this close is enough for my chest to burst into song, and I notice the woman sitting next to me eyeing me with curiosity.
I get up and set the sewing in the basket, stepping over someone and retreating before Skarr can return to camp.
“You okay?” Gail asks me, noting my attempts to extricate myself from the group.
My fingers go to my brow and I don’t stop moving. “Headache, going to lie down.”
I amsucha chicken.
It’s just…after last night, I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to him. I’m definitely not ready to have a confrontation in front of all of the others, and I know Skarr likes to pose and preen in front of them. What if he tries to talk about kissing and me grabbing him around the fire? I will die. I will just simply die. Wither into a ball of humiliation and die.
Let him come and seek me out so we can talk in private.
I sit near the entrance of the tent the newcomer women are sleeping in. There was a cave offered, but since the men didn’t want to sleep “together” it was considered better that the males take it rather than setting up multiple tents for singular people. In the cave they can spread out and beat their chests to their hearts’ content while the women more or less have a cuddle-puddle to share warmth.
Or you could be like me and end up sprawled over their feet in the morning.
Time passes, and my khui hums stronger, and I know Skarr must be close. I can hear the others laughing and talking by the fire. The suns go down and it gets dark, and still Skarr doesn’t come. I yawn and curl up in the blankets, and I must doze off because when I wake up, Colleen and Isadora are crawling into bed, and it’s late.
Skarr didn’t come to talk to me.
Well…fine. I didn’t want to talk to him, either.
* * *
The next fewdays feel agonizingly slow.
I sleep fitfully each night, piled in with the other women sharing blankets. It’s innocent enough, but my dreams are full of Skarr and I wake up throbbing and yearning. The last thing I want is another woman snuggled up against my back when my khui is humming out of control. When I’m not dreaming about Skarr, I’m tending to fires or fishing in the woods, talking to a person I can’t see. My surroundings are full of mountains and tall green trees, and I wear black waders with the pants and boots built into a float at the waist. We laugh at how ugly my pants are, but that the color is a good choice because I always wear black.
Those dreams are always more disturbing than the ones about Skarr, because I wake up aching and missing the person in my dreams. I think it’s my father, but I never see his face or remember his name. Just that I loved him.
The days are not much better than my troubling nights. Skarr keeps away from the main camp, and because the other women are sticking close, I do, too. Gail, Flor, and the other women who have been here a while take time each day to try and show us skills—how to skin a dead animal, how to butcher it, how to make food over the fire with the tripod bags and hot stones that are slipped inside the bag to warm the contents. There’s sewing and the making of clothes, since we’ll be in charge of dressing ourselves. There are skins to be worked, fish to be gutted, seaweed to be dried, roots and herbs to be collected. It’s an exhaustive, never-ending list, but the women here support each other and tackle the chores as they come. No one is expected to be superhuman or skilled, just to give it their best effort.
So I do my best to learn everything that’s put in front of me. I sew an ugly tunic for myself that fits and is warm. I help cook food and gather herbs and roots. Instinct takes over and I seem to already know how to scale and gut a fish, and one day I get stuck gutting everyone’s fish, which isn’t my favorite, but at least no one tries to approach me and make conversation.
I’m still not comfortable speaking. They all yet feel like strangers.
Skarr is avoiding me, too, I think. If resonance keeps him up at night, he doesn’t show it. He’s up bright and early, going hunting or working on his “secret project” with Jason and Ashtar. He doesn’t come near the fire when I’m there, and at night, when a large group gathers to tell stories, share food, and enjoy company, I retreat to give him a chance to talk to me privately.
He never seeks me out, though. He never comes looking for me, and it bothers me. Am I the only one being woken up with wet dreams? Does he not get hit out of the blue in the middle of the day with need so strong that it makes his limbs shake?
Is he not troubled by resonance at all? Or is he tired of pursuing me?
I could go after him, of course. Demand that he sit down somewhere quiet and talk to me. I could make the first move.
In theory, anyhow. In reality, I’m too tongue-tied. Every time the idea of talking to him crosses my mind, I think about how I grabbed his privates and then ran like a virgin. Maybe there weren’t two. Maybe he was just really big and I mistook girth for two dicks. I obsess over that moment.
Okay, to be fair, I obsess over every moment as I work. I play our conversations back in my head and scan the beach for him even though I tell myself I’m not interested. That I’m going to talk to the healer about shutting things off any day now. That I don’t want him. Or babies. Or resonance.
Truth of the matter is, though…I don’t dislike Skarr.
He’s a blowhard, yes. A braggart and a bit too enthusiastic about violence. He loves attention. We’re complete opposites in that respect. But he’s never been openly unkind to me, just clueless. He’s taken care of me in the past and tried in his own way to be caring.
So no, I’m not as horrified as I was about resonating to him. It just feels complicated, especially after I ran.
