Chapter 6 #2
“You must hurry back to the sky wreck, Djasssmih,” he insisted, rising to point with his knife-wielding hand downhill to the wetlands below.
“There have been no more quakes, and Joxra is anxiously awaiting your return.” He ducked and held up a large pouch.
“I prepared your supplies.” Then he held up something else.
“And a weapon.” He’d made a bow for me. It was a pale ivory, the wood bared of any bark, with a thicker handle, flattened curves, and narrow tips.
Sinew made up the bowstring, twisted tightly in place.
It looked very similar to the bow I’d made for myself and lost in the earthquake.
That was no coincidence, as I’d turned to the hunters here to construct my favorite weapon.
They knew what wood to use and what sinew was best for the string.
My mouth practically salivated as I saw the weapon, my hands eagerly reaching.
Yes! A weapon, this was by far the best gift out of all the things he’d already done for me.
I’d definitely make it back just fine on my own with a weapon to defend myself.
He handed it to me, then lifted my quiver with the tip of his tail and offered that too.
The wood felt familiar in my hands, but also too light.
Something twisted in my stomach at the discovery, but I was too giddy to pay it the attention I should have.
Taking an arrow, I notched it, then drew back the string.
Too easy. This was a very light bow, probably more suited to a child than to a trained archer like me.
I held my breath as disappointment grew heavier, thicker.
The arrow flew true when I released it, thunking into a tree trunk across the clearing.
It didn’t lodge deep and, sadly, dangled down before falling to the ground.
I growled in frustration, my temper beginning to boil.
No, I shouldn’t, this wasn’t a purposeful slight.
I took a deep breath, and another, but it was a struggle.
Why did I have to prove myself over and over?
Why did everyone always underestimate me?
Ekkire eyed the fallen arrow, then looked at me.
His eyes trailed over my arms, but they were obscured by the thick fur sleeves of my coat.
His mouth twisted into a grimace, and then he shook his head.
“That’s no good,” he told me, and held out his hand for the bow.
I wanted to snap at him, warn him that I was a fantastic archer and that it was the bow, not me, that caused that sad result.
His tail flicked the bow from my fingers without ever touching my skin, before I could say anything.
“You get angry easily, female,” he remarked, turning away and undoing the string on the bow with a very casual move of his hand.
He pinned the wood of the bow to a rock and went to work cutting about three inches off each end, his hands quick and confident as he moved.
I was lost for words as I stared, shocked that he’d call me out on being mad like that.
I was not mad all the time, though my temper did flare easily.
He was the grumpy, snarly one, not me, but that would be petulant to point out.
I crossed my arms over my chest, gave him a glare that probably only confirmed his statement, and waited.
He was shortening the bow, which was a quick way to make it a bit heavier, even if it wasn’t ideal.
It would help a little, but I’d still have to make a new bow to my own specifications.
He offered the shortened bow to me moments later, restrung into a shorter, and thus tighter, curve.
I tested it with little faith, but the arrow still flew true, and this time it lodged with a satisfying thump in the trunk of the tree and stayed there.
There was only one way to respond to that: “Thank you.” I swallowed the last remnants of my temper.
I shouldn’t feel so self-conscious, so quickly, like I was being thought of as incompetent.
He had never met a human before, how was he supposed to know my strength?
He might be frowning all the time, and he might clearly have a thing about coming close and touching me, but his acts were all kind.
He might be the only single male I’d met on this planet who didn’t try to hit on me.
“Good,” he said. “That will scare off wildlife until you can reach the sky wreck.” He made a muffled growling noise when he discovered that Dove had fetched my first arrow and chewed partially through the shaft with her sharp little teeth.
His always-busy hands flicked through the pile of arrows he’d been creating.
It was only when he handed me the pouch and offered me my quiver again that I realized he wanted me to get going.
He began putting out the fire, gathering his furs and packing all his supplies, the camp vanishing without a trace in a matter of minutes.
Dove protested when he tried sweeping her pile of sticks away along with the grass and branches I’d used to sleep on.
She growled, posturing with her tiny, silvery wings, and he dropped his tail with a silent glare.
“It is that way. You must walk fast to reach them before sunset.” He pointed, then crossed his arms over his massive green chest. He had a trident lying across his backpack and wore only a leather belt, braces around his wrists, and a piece of armor across one shoulder.
There was no sign of a bow or arrows, but there was no doubting he’d known exactly how to make them.
He’d packed far faster than I’d managed to strap my new arrows and quiver to my belt.
His body shivered with repressed energy, and his eyes constantly flicked to the mountains behind me.
I was in his way; he had places to be, and he definitely didn’t fancy spending more time with me. Fine, I was going to consider this a vote of confidence in my skills. He thought I’d be okay making my way back to the crashed ship on my own, and he’d be right. This worked for both of us.
Putting on a cheerful smile, I waved at him.
“Well, thanks for the help! And the bow.” I lifted the weapon and waved it in the air.
“I’ll be on my way then, and you can be on yours.
Have a good one!” He stared at me as if I’d just sprouted a second head, not understanding a single word I’d said.
He made no move to follow me as I walked past him.
He remained frozen in place, his hands tightening around the long staff of his trident.
Sharp brow ridges lowered deep over his eyes, and his mouth tilted into what felt like disapproval.
A shiver shot down my spine, and I hurried to pick Dove up from the ground, her now-splintered arrow dangling from her mouth.
I collected her sticks too, because who cared anyway, right?
He already thought I was weird; that expression said he didn’t like me, and I’d never see him again anyway.
Might as well make my new little friend happy by keeping her collection together.
With sticks, sleara, and several more supplies than I’d started with gathered, I set off.
I did not look over my shoulder as I passed him, and I pretended it didn’t hurt either when he yanked a coil aside as if afraid I’d touch him.
“Bye!” I said again, waving once and injecting more false cheer into my tone.
He was not going to call me out on being easily angered again.
The sun had risen higher while I’d eaten and tested that bow, but it was still early enough that I should have plenty of time to reach the crashed ship.
I couldn’t quite see it from here, but I was certain it couldn’t be more than a brisk four- or five-hour walk.
Easy peasy, even with bruised ribs and more bruising on my backside than I’d ever had before.
The stiffness would disappear the more I moved.
The terrain was a ravaged mess after the earthquake had ripped gullies and furrows through the land.
Toppled trees lay in my path, but I climbed over them or went around them.
While Dove fluttered around my head or scouted ahead, I whistled under my breath as I walked.
The skin on the back of my neck prickled, warning me that I was being watched.
As quickly as the forest had swallowed me and obscured him from sight, I did not think I’d fully shaken Ekkire.
Fine, that didn’t bother me. I’d just pick up the pace so he’d leave me alone sooner rather than later. Dove was all the company I’d need for as long as she wanted to stay with me.