Chapter 14
- Nator’ax -
I wake before the light fully reaches the cave mouth.
The gray morning filters in across stone and fur.
Riley is still beside me, half-wrapped in the hides, her breathing slow and even.
The cold should be biting, but the space around her holds a different kind of warmth, one that has nothing to do with fire or shelter.
I watch her, noting the way she curls toward me even in sleep, as if some part of her has already decided where she belongs.
“You do belong to me,” I whisper.
She stirs before I can pull away from it, her eyes opening with a soft blink as awareness settles in. For a heartbeat, she just looks at me through slitted eyes.
“Are you staring?” she asks, her voice rough with sleep, but amused.
“I’m making sure you’re still here,” I reply evenly. “I was worried it might have been a dream.”
She pushes herself up on one elbow and rubs one eye. “I’m sorry to say that it’s all true. We’re still prisoners here. The tribe still wants to kill us. And you’re still stuck with me.”
“That last part is worth all the other things,” I say sincerely.
“You know, I can’t help but agree.” She stretches, then pulls the furs tighter around herself before glancing toward the cave entrance.
“I talked to some of the boys yesterday while you were out,” she says.
“They told me there are hot springs up in the mountains. Real ones, not just a warm puddle. Steam, pools, the whole thing. So they say.”
My attention sharpens. “How far?”
“Not that far,” she says. “A few hours, maybe. They go there sometimes, apparently. Said it’s the only place you can actually get clean without freezing something important off.”
I think about it. “This place doesn’t invite long baths. And being clean is something I enjoy.”
“I’m glad you agree. So I was thinking… we could go. Just for the day. Wash properly, get out of the village for a bit. It might be nice.”
“Nice” is not the word I’d use. “Perfect” is closer. Still, I understand what she’s asking for. Space, privacy, a break from eyes that weigh and measure. “It may not work in our favor to be away. It’s harder to use a blade on a friend than a stranger.”
“Mm. Or maybe they should be forced to remember how empty their village is without us. And we won’t stay that long.”
I study her for a moment. There’s no fear in her suggestion, only a kind of mild defiance. I can’t help but like it. I was going to make myself even more valuable to the tribe today, but this has much greater appeal. “There may be other advantages, too,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “Are you thinking just about getting clean now? Or is there something else?”
I let my gaze lower to her chest. “I’m always thinking of something else. But yes, let’s see if they’ll let us go.”
Her smile this time is bright and happy. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
We don’t delay long. By the time we step into the open, the village is already stirring.
Movement spreads between huts and tents, men preparing for the day’s work, the carcass from the hunt already being stripped and divided.
Eyes turn toward us as we walk together, some curious, and some calculating.
We go directly to Chief Hoker’iz. He stands near the totem pole, speaking with two others, his posture relaxed but deliberate. His gaze shifts to us as we approach, taking us in.
“Ah. Good morning, Warrior Nator’ax and Dame Riley. No hunt is planned for today, warrior. We’d worry about you killing every dondar on the ice.” His smile is small, but seems real.
“I doubt the Gar tribe would need my help with that, if that was their intent,” I return the compliment. “But we have something else to ask. We’ve been told there are hot springs in the mountains. We intend to go there and return before nightfall.”
The chief’s eyes flick briefly to Riley, then back to me. “The hot springs?”
“We heard they’re not far away,” I say. “And it would be nice to get clean. Properly clean.”
There’s a pause. Then the chief nods once, as if the decision costs him nothing. “You may go to the hot springs. There’s no need for an escort, but I will send a boy to show you the way.”
Riley shifts beside me. “We don’t need him. I was told how to get there.”
“The mountains are stone and ice beyond the springs,” the chief continues.
“There’s nothing else. No trees, no prey, no food, and no shelter.
Only the ice, the steep cliffs, and constant wind from the mountains.
No Small goes there, the Bigs avoid it. Mostly.
If you choose not to return here, you’ll die.
We won’t look for you if you don’t return.
We will know you’re both dead.” He gives me a firm look.
I nod once. “I understand.”
The chief studies me for a moment longer, then looks away. “Be back before dark. The glaciers are old, and the crevasses are deep and many. It’s the most treacherous land we know.”
We turn and leave without further words.
As we move away from the totem pole, Riley exhales softly. “Well, that was easier than I expected.”
“Much easier,” I say, my gaze already shifting toward the mountains. “I wonder why.”
I don’t add what I’m thinking: The chief has given us a path that removes us from the village without conflict, without loss of face. A way for us to leave that costs the tribe nothing, and doesn’t make the chief look weak.
It is, in its way, a gift. Whether it’s a real one remains to be seen.
We leave the village behind with the sun still low, the light thin and cold over the snow.
For a while, we walk in silence, our breath visible in the air, our steps steady on the packed ground.
I keep my eyes on the terrain ahead, marking distance, slope, and the places where the snow has shifted and hardened into ice. This path sees a lot of use.
Beside me, Riley is watching everything. “This is already better,” she says after a while. “Nobody staring, nobody whispering, nobody trying to figure out how much trouble I’m worth.”
I gaze at the distant mountains, seeing if there’s movement or smoke against the blue-white of the ice and snow. “It must get tiresome.”
She makes a face. “It really does.”
I see no movement up there, but it’s far away. “Is the Borok tribe better? My tribesmen stare too, and some of them try to touch.”
“At least there, the chief makes sure women are safe. I remember you making sure too.”
I glance at her. “Oh, some of the men just needed to be reminded of the rules. They know that Earth women will marry the first man to get her away from the others, and keep her away for a while.”
“No, that’s not…” she begins. “Hmm. Actually, I see how it could look that way. But Earth women don’t really work like that.”
“Of course not,” I say neutrally, because everyone knows they do. “Watch out for that slippery patch.”
The ground begins to change as we move higher. Snow thins in places, giving way to dark rock and patches of exposed gravel. The air carries a faint shift in scent, something that reminds me of the jungle.
Riley notices it too. “Do you smell that?”
“Either a large Big is rotting somewhere nearby, or there’s a swamp, or maybe something better.”
“Seems like just about anything would be better than those things,” she sniffs.
“Oh, I could easily think of worse things,” I assure her.
“Yes, but not now, warrior. This is supposed to be a nice trip. Look!” she points. “Steam!”
Indeed, there seems to be a thin mist up ahead.
We crest a low rise, and the springs come into view below us, steam rising in pale columns against the yellow stone. There are several pools and a little stream that gives off a merry clucking. The ground there is streaked with red and black, the snow melted away in irregular patches.
Riley stops beside me, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
I study the area first, scanning for movement, for tracks, and for anything that would turn this into a trap. There is nothing immediate. The place is quiet, the only sound the faint hiss of steam and the tinkling from the hot little stream.
Riley is speeding up. “Come on,” she says, picking her way down the slope. “Before some horrible Big comes and ruins the water.”
I follow, though my attention splits between her and the ground.
Up close, the terrain is fractured by heat, with sand and gravel scattered in uneven layers.
The red catches my eye immediately. I crouch, picking up a piece of stone, turning it in my hand.
The color is deep and brownish red, like a forgotten knife found after many moons.
The stones are heavier than ordinary rock.
Riley notices. “What is it?”
“Iron,” I say. “We don’t often find it this easily in the jungle. We have to search. Here, it’s lying out in the open, unused.”
She tilts her head. “Maybe the Gar tribe doesn’t know.”
“They know, but they seem to think they don’t need it. They have fine stone tools, though, and bone.” I gather a heap of the iron stones.
She looks at the ground, then back at me. “Maybe they’ll be angry if you take that.”
“What are they going to do?” I ask as I examine a particularly nice iron rock. “Kill me twice?”
“Good point.”
We move further into the area. The ground softens into patches of red sand and fine gravel. Riley stops again, looking down at our footprints.
“Wait,” she says. “Stand still.”
I don’t move, curious about what she has in mind.
She steps beside one of my tracks, placing her foot carefully into it. It doesn’t fit.
“That’s ridiculous,” she says. “Your feet are far too big.”
“I think you’ll find it’s yours that are too small.” I show her by placing my foot over one of her small footprints and stepping on it. When I raise my foot again, her little print is completely gone. “See?”
She chuckles. “Nobody needs feet that big. Like a kronk. Are you a kronk, then?”
I scratch my chin. “Have you ever seen a kronk in the jungle?”
She looks away. “Maybe.”