And she thinks to ignore my help? More foolishness. I ignore her protests and sling her into my arms. I will carry her to the sa-kohtsk hunt if I must. She will get there. I cannot bear to think of she does not.
"Hey! Put me down, you big oaf," she yells in my ear. Her lungs are not suffering, at least. I ignore her bellowing and make sure she is wrapped in the blankets despite her flailing.
"Raahosh," a warning voice says.
I look over – even as the human's hand smacks me on the jaw in protest – and see my friend and chieftain stalking over to me.
"You cannot haul her around if she does not wish it," he says in our language. "Humans must be gently wooed. They are fragile."
My ‘fragile' human's fist slams into my cheekbone. "Put me down," she bellows again. "You fucking suck!"
I…suck? But I am eating nothing.
"Raahosh," Vektal warns. "You know my orders."
I do know his orders. Do not do anything the humans do not want to do. I gently set mine to the floor with infinite tenderness, resisting the urge to crush her against my chest and stroke her filthy hair. "She is wounded," I tell him gruffly. "I wanted to help."
"There will be time enough for that," he says and claps my arm good-naturedly. Of course he's in a good mood. He has his mate. Mine looks at me as if she'd like to bury my knife into my back. "Let her walk if she wishes to walk."
"Fine," I growl out. I make sure the furs are bundled tightly around her and offer her foot coverings. It's the least I can do, and I pretend not to see when she winces and says more vicious, incomprehensible words as she tries to ease one over her swollen foot. She's covered in wounds, this human creature. There's a fresh one on her arm where a ‘sensor' as they call it was removed from her flesh. This was from the ‘bad guys'. All I know is that I want to get a khui into her so she can heal and get well.
Mating is not even on my mind at the moment. I simply want her to thrive. My hands twitch, desperate to comfort and caress, but when she shoots me another hateful look, I go to join the hunters.
I cannot be around her and not want to touch her.
LIZ
I like to think that I'm not particularly squeamish. I'm really not. My dad was a hunter, and I grew up at his side, baiting fish hooks and skinning the day's catch so we could roast it over a fire. I'm an expert with a bow. I'm not half bad with tracking. I can butcher a carcass like a badass.
But the sa-kohtsk is a creepy mutant motherfucker.
It's been a few hours since we left the ship behind for the last time. I wish I could say I wasn't sorry to see that smelly pit disappear into the distance, but I'm a little freaked out. This planet is an ice planet. It's like Antarctica on steroids, and the sun is setting. There's so much snow that my newly-covered feet sink into it like quicksand, and I see no familiar trees or shelter. It's cold as fuck, my toes feel like red hot pain every time I take a step, and I'm feeling so weak I can barely lift my head. This is not exactly survival mode. At one point, I fall behind the others so far that someone swoops me up and carries me over his shoulder. I don't even have to see the guy's face in the driving snow to realize who it is.
Raahosh. Of course.
Now the girls and I are seated under a few flimsy, willowy trees that shiver with every step the sa-kohtsk takes. The sa-kohtsk is impossible to describe. It's like a wooly mammoth mated with the love child of a brontosaur and a long-legged AT-AT from one of the Star Wars movies. The resulting thing looks like a hairball propped up on spindly legs, and it screeches and moans as the hunters bring it down.
The men crowd around it. Vektal immediately trots over to the women and runs his hands over Georgie. "Are you well?"
She fusses over him, too. Oh, puke. I tune out and gaze at the downed creature. I miss hunting. I haven't done it since my father died, but seeing the dead thing and the scent of its blood on the air brings back memories of hunting together. I miss Dad. I miss hunting.
I look up and see a pair of glowing, intense eyes watching me from a distance. Raahosh again. I hug my furs closer and ignore him, hobbling closer to Georgie and Vektal so I can hear what's going on.
They're busy making out. I watch Vektal kiss Georgie's forehead. “Now, we get the khui. Gather the women.”
So sexist. Yes, gather up all the little women-folk so they can be taken care of. My lip curls at this, but I hate that I'm such a stereotype. Truth is, I'm too friggin’ exhausted to do anything other than stare.
Georgie steps forward with Tiffany at her side. Poor Tiff. She's from El Paso and really, really isn't doing well with this weather. Plus, I think she's diabetic, so she's not doing so hot. She's been practically comatose all week. Tiffany stands weakly, and Georgie continues to move forward. "Where are the khui?"