CHAPTER 7 #3
His irritated tone amuses me. I like getting under his skin...fur...whatever. "Just more for the male to handle, pussycat. Besides, I've got a sick patient I'm tending to."
Valmir's catlike mouth twists into a sour expression.
He shakes his head at me, then gets busy building up the fire.
As he does, he moves around the hut, bundling up the skin with the innards and putting it out of the way until it can be disposed of.
The discarded fish head and filleted carcass will be saved for soup at the main fire, the guts used for fishing traps.
Everything will find its purpose. I appreciate that. It's respectful of the life taken.
He stokes the fire, then moves the skewers out of the way of the flames, angling them over the rocks so the flesh of the fish can cook. After he's tidied up, he washes his hands with my meltwater and wipes them on the long hem of his tunic. "Tell me about yourself."
His request surprises me. "Me?"
"No, the rodent on your lap. Of course, you."
I resist the urge to reach across the fire and smack his face. Snarky bastard. "Well, my name is April and I don't like you very much."
"No one does." He seems unbothered by this, reaching out to nudge one of the skewers.
I wish I could be so nonchalant about how everyone else thinks of me, but I'm a social creature at heart.
I want to be liked and I want to get along with everyone.
I do get along, for the most part. There's just something about Valmir that sticks in my craw.
When I'm silent, he indicates I should continue. "Go on. There has to be more to you."
I absently stroke Makana's head as I consider my answer.
What do I tell him about me that doesn't feel like I'm baring my soul?
"I remember a few things about where I came from, but not much.
It comes out in random moments when I'm not thinking actively about who I was.
There's a language that comes out in bits and pieces in my head, too, but the translator doesn't know it.
It's frustrating, because it feels like information I should have and it's just…
not there. It's like I have puzzle pieces but they don't fit together. Something in my brain isn't meshing."
"Mm. Perhaps more will come if you concentrate."
I press my hand over my heart. "That's just it.
The more I try to focus, the further the memories drift away.
If I stop to remember the city I'm from, nothing comes to mind.
I don't know the name. I don't know what my house looked like.
But I know I lived somewhere warm, because I catch myself wanting to make jokes about the cold and how much clothing I'm wearing. "
That makes him pause. "You wore less clothing back where you were from?"
Count on a guy to clue in on that. "Yeah."
His furry brows go up. "Then being here must bother you. The humans are constantly throwing on more layers of clothing."
Observant. "What about you? Do you find it cold here?"
Valmir shrugs. "It is cold but I am insulated well enough. My skin is not naked like yours. And I recall nothing of the planet I am from."
His expression remains unbothered, but I notice his tail flicks, and it reminds me of an agitated cat back home.
What's agitating him, I wonder. Talk of clothing?
Talk of naked skin? I decide to prod a bit more, because the ornery part of me enjoys bothering him.
"Yeah, I don't like wearing so much all day.
I'd much rather sleep without clothing on but it's far too cold here. "
Again, his tail flicks even as his face remains impassive. "Mm."
"My nipples would be fricking ice cubes, you know? You could hang a coat off them."
His tail gives a hard, hard thump. "I wouldn't know, no."
Oh man, I am having way too much fun needling him, but it's making my khui respond.
The humming in my chest is getting agitated.
The last thing I want is for Valmir to think he's going to score, so I change the subject before things go too far.
"Do you remember anything about where you came from? Or who 'Valmir' was?"
His eyes narrow. "Why? What have you heard?"
Okay, that's not the response I expected. "Nothing, you big kolohe. That's why I'm asking." The word pings in my translator as unknown, but I know it. It comes to mind so naturally to me. It means 'naughty one'. How does the translator not know this?
Valmir's mouth gradually flattens as I speak, but when he responds, he shrugs as if he's unbothered. "I was a gladiator. I cannot speak to much more than that."
Maybe I'm not the only one with a faulty memory. "You know how to cook," I point out. He's been carefully rotating the fish over the fire so one side doesn't char. "That's something."
"I learned when we got here. Gail took me aside and told me I would need to learn how to prepare food as well as how to catch it.
I appreciated the instruction. Her rules made it easy to learn.
" Valmir glances up at me again. "Did you notice that every time I ask you about yourself, you try to turn the conversation back onto me? "
His observation surprises me. Have I been doing that?
It's something I've noticed when I'm with the others — if I can keep the conversation flowing, no one notices that I'm not volunteering much about myself.
"I don't want anyone to see me as a liability," I say slowly, considering my words carefully.
"I don't want them to think of me as a burden.
So I make sure that the April I show them is an April they want to be around and that's good to take along. "
"Even if it's a lie?"
"Even if it's a lie. And I'll gut you with my knife if you tell anyone I said that."
He huffs, the sound faintly amused. "No, you won't."
Okay, I probably won't, but I shrug. "I think I'll be more comfortable in a few months when a bit more pieces of who I was float back to me. Like Makana's name. It means 'gift' in my language. But I still don't know what the language was."
"So a warm place with its own language. That's not nothing. You'll remember more soon. Is April your real name?"
"A piece of it but not all of it. It's for the month I was born in, rather than having a deeper meaning." I can sense that much, at least. It doesn't feel like a different language like Makana's name does. "What about Valmir?"
"It means nothing I'm aware of, and you're doing it again." He turns the fish over carefully, and I catch a glimpse of fang as he smiles.
"So I am." I laugh. "Busted. If I remember more of my past, you'll be the first person I tell, deal?"
He nods as if this is a great gift. "So do you fish, if you do not hunt?"
"I know how. The water here is awfully cold, though. I keep thinking it'll be warmer, and I'm always surprised."
"Warm waters where you were from, then," he continues. "And fishing. And animals."
"You know that describes most of planet Earth?"
"Does it?" He seems surprised. "No wonder everyone goes on about how bad the weather is here. Jason will not stop complaining about the cold."
Do the others hate it here? I don't like the cold, but this planet is wild and open and untamed.
It hasn't been ruined by cities and pollution.
If I take ten steps out of camp, I'll see wildlife.
Nature is everywhere, the air crisp, the planet thriving despite the chilly weather.
Other than the chill, I actually really like it.
It feels like I'm meant to be here, to be closer to nature, to live in harmony with the land and its caretakers.
Now, the khui? This, I am not a fan of.
But even admitting that to myself feels like misdirection.
I don't like Valmir and he's not who I'd choose for myself, but I hate him less with each passing hour.
He's smart, he's skilled at hunting and fishing, and he doesn't judge my quirks.
When he's not being an absolute jerk, I enjoy talking to him.
This is probably how resonance works, I'm realizing. It just beats you down until the person you're attached to doesn't seem nearly as dire as resisting, and you eventually just get it over with. Ugh. My mood sours all over again and the hut falls quiet.
"Jason doesn't hunt," Valmir comments, lifting one piece of fish from the coals it’s propped over. He holds it by the end of the skewer and considers the meat, then offers it to me.
I take it from him, but I'm not following his conversation. "What about Jason?"
"He. Doesn't. Hunt." Valmir enunciates each word as if I'm stupid.
"Okaaaay?" I nibble on the flesh of the fish and he's got it cooked just how I like it — the meat is thick enough to hold together on the skewer, but not rubbery.
It flakes apart as I bite, and the seasoning he sprinkled on is perfect.
I'm not going to tell him any of this. It'll just make his head swell.
But it's a pretty good meal over a fire, all things considered.
"Why do I care what Jason does, Valmir?"
"You don't like hunting creatures," he says. "You are strong and clever, though."
I mock-toss my hair. "You think I'm clever?"