LAUREN

It’s near dawn when I wake up to Z’hren nuzzling at my top, trying to feed.

“Whoa, little buddy,” I tell him in a gentle voice as I detangle my limbs from a sleeping K’thar’s. Sometime in the middle of the night he migrated over to my side of the raft and held me away from the edge. I’ve ended up in the middle of the thing with the baby, and Kki perches on a basket nearby, ruffling his wings and looking indignant at his surroundings. I sit up and adjust the baby, handing him a chunk of an edible root for him to gnaw on. We should have prepared better for travel, I think. There are eggs, and dried fish, of course, but I feel reluctant to break out an egg when our journey’s just beginning. What if this takes longer than we thought?

It’s already been a day.

I glance up at the skies. It’s dawn, or that dreamy, pale color just before the two tiny suns rise. The sky itself is an angry, cloudy gray and the temperature has dropped overnight. It’s getting colder the farther we get from the island. I glance behind us to see how far we’ve come, but I can’t see it. Sometime while I was sleeping, the island went out of view entirely. I turn to look at the distant mountains that we’re heading toward. I can’t tell if they’re any closer, and that’s worrying. Is the current taking us away? Or is it going sideways when we should be going straight forward? I don’t know if we can paddle such a long distance against the current if that’s the case. I just hope something looks encouraging soon.

I worry I’ve led the others into a trap. Surely…surely it can’t be that hard to lead people to the other side of the water, when we can see the purple peaks in the distance? I have to believe this will turn out well. Have to.

Z’hren throws the bit of root down and makes a fussy cry. I know how he feels. I want to get up and stretch my legs, but we’re all piled onto this raft on top of one another and it makes everything tricky. You lose your modesty fast, but you also lose your temper fast. I make a clucking sound at him and pull him closer, even as his little fists grab at my hair. I wince—four fists mean lots of hair pulling. “Now, Z’hren—”

An earth-shattering boom fills the skies.

I fling myself on top of the baby in terror, and a moment later, I feel K’thar’s big form covering mine. The raft wobbles as everyone scrambles awake. I realize a moment later that I’m screaming. My mouth is open, but I can’t hear anything. My ears ring and I realize that I can’t hear K’thar, or the baby crying underneath me. I can’t hear the waves. There’s no sound at all but silence and the endless droning sound in my ears.

The volcano—it’s exploded.

K’thar touches me, and as I look over at him, I see he’s camouflaged to match the raft. I watch his mouth moving, but I can’t hear him, either. I’ve heard of people going deaf from a gun that discharges too close to the ear, and I hope to god this doesn’t last forever. “I’m okay,” I tell him, or at least, I hope I do. I can’t hear myself talk.

I sit upright, trying to comfort Z’hren. The baby’s fussing, his face screwed up with anger, but there’s no sound. I watch K’thar as he touches each member of his small tribe, making sure they’re all right. Kki flings himself onto K’thar’s shoulder and my mate—my sweet, wonderful mate—grabs the terrified bird and clutches it tight against his chest, stroking the wings to calm it. I feel a jealous stab at him holding the bird, because I want to be held like that, too. But I’ve got the baby in my arms and he’s busy checking on the others.

I glance down the raft line and the other tribes seem to be awake, everyone rubbing their ears and looking confused. Someone points behind us and I see that there’s nothing but a black curtain of ash behind us where the island used to be. Thank god we got away.

A hand lands on the back of my neck, caressing it, and I glance over at K’thar, grateful for that small touch. Even though I can’t hear my cootie, I can feel it thrumming in my chest. I’m so glad he’s here.

I’m so glad he’s mine.

I smile over at him, feeling weak and shaky. We’re safe for now. We’ve got this, as long as we’re together. I look over where Marisol is, and she’s got T’chai’s hand in hers, the big warrior still lying flat in the center of the raft. It’s while I’m looking over at them that I see the surge of water heading our way.

Oh…oh fuck.

Someone else notices on the third raft and gestures wildly. I barely have time to grab on to the vine ropes and anchor myself and the baby in my arms before I feel K’thar’s big body shield me again. I squeeze my eyes shut, holding my breath and bracing for the worst.

The raft surges and I can feel all of us lift up, like an elevator moving between floors. A moment later, we ease back down again, and when I lift my head, I can see the wave racing past. Oh.

I wish there was a way to warn the people on shore that a tidal wave was heading in their direction. I can only hope it won’t be so bad by the time it gets there. For now, though, we have to worry about ourselves. A quick head-check shows that only one person was washed overboard—A’tam—but he was able to swim quickly back to the raft and climb onboard. He shivers with cold and someone offers him a fur blanket. Everyone looks dazed and frightened.

I know just how they feel.

* * *

The tidal wave, even just the tiny crest of it that we got, seems to have carried us a bit closer to shore. As the day wears on, I don’t have to worry that we’re paddling in the right direction. The purple peaks of the mountains, once so distant, are now in sight. They’re still a far ways off, but now we know that we’re heading somewhere and that it’s not in my head, which is a relief.

My ears continue ringing for a few hours and I can start to hear the voices of the others again toward sunset. We’re careful with our water and our food, rationing it just in case we run into trouble. K’thar paddles endlessly, as if he never grows tired, and I’m impressed with his stamina. I curl up next to him while the baby sleeps, and he keeps one hand on us, holding both of us protectively close. I feel tired and dirty and gritty from sea salt, and it’s no longer temperate in the slightest. The air is bitterly cold and I watch my breath puff up in clouds. The others have taken to wearing the layers of furs that they laughed at me for insisting on, and I can see the shocked surprise in J’shel’s face as he blows on his hands to warm them. I can’t blame him for not believing me when I said how cold it was. The island is so warm and sultry.

Was, I remind myself. Was so warm and sultry. It’s gone now, and nothing remains of it except the ringing in my ears, the choking black curtain at the far end of the sky that acts as a tombstone of sorts, and the ash that’s started to fall from overhead. At first I thought it was snow, but a taste of it on my lips made me spit. Definitely ash.

All of this worries me, and I try to keep Z’hren’s mouth covered as he sleeps, even though he fights me on it. We can’t help breathing some of the ash, but it’s dangerous to suck in large mouthfuls of it. Of course, everything’s dangerous right now. I look longingly at the shore, still no closer than it was a few hours ago despite all the paddling.

To my side, K’thar shifts, and then I see his knives come out. He rests them on his legs, scanning the waters.

A prickle goes up my spine and I sit upright. “What is it?” I touch his arm in case his hearing is still wiped. “K’thar?”

He points to the center of the raft, indicating I should move there. I edge toward it and he hands me Kki. I’ve got my arms full of bird and baby, and I’m about to protest when he goes utterly still next to me.

“What?” I ask again, worried. “Is it the mountain? Something else?” When he gazes back down at the water, ever watchful, the hackles on my skin go up. “Is it something in the water?” I look back to the other rafts, the aliens sprawled out atop them. R’jaal has his spear in hand, and O’jek watches the water as well. I peer over the side as much as I dare, but I don’t see anything.

A long, tense moment ticks past. I watch K’thar for clues, and relax when his shoulders ease from their tight position. Whatever it was, it’s gone—

A silver coil reaches up and snags K’thar’s arm, fast as lightning, and drags him over the side of the raft.

He’s gone before I can even scream. My heart stops beating. I can’t hear anything but the sound of lapping water hitting the edges of the raft. “K’thar!” R’jaal calls, moving protectively to the front of his raft. Mari cries out as the entire thing bobs back and forth, and I can feel their raft jerking on the cord that holds ours to them.

None of that matters. My K’thar—my mate—is gone. There’s not even a hint of him above the water, not a ripple. I take a breath, and it feels like my heart is being torn out of my chest. No. No! This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. I set Z’hren down in the center of the raft and the bird with him, scrambling to the side. I’m going in after him. Maybe—

“No, L’ren,” J’shel says, grabbing my ankle. I want to scream in his face, but then he flings himself overboard, knife in his teeth, and disappears under the water as well. He wasn’t pulled in—he went in after my guy.

Z’hren starts wailing, and I pick him up, cradling him close. Oh god. Oh god. What can I do? The urge to go after him battles inside me, but N’dek and Z’hren can’t be left on this raft alone. But if he dies…

I don’t want to live if he dies. A sob breaks from my throat and Z’hren cries even harder. Kki screams his own protest in my ear, and it seems like the entire world is wailing with me. The water is so still, so very still that I can’t stand it. Please, I tell the world around me. Please don’t take him.

“K’thar!” R’jaal bellows, squatting at the edge of his raft, spear in hand. “J’shel! K’thar!”

“Look,” N’dek says, and I realize dimly that he’s at my side, two knives in his hands. He babbles something else I don’t understand and then points at the water.

I see nothing, and then a head bursts through the surface. K’thar flings his hair back off his face, and I realize he’s camouflaged to the same murky green as the ocean. J’shel surfaces a moment later, scratches clawed over his bloody face, and they both start swimming toward the raft.

I start laughing. Or crying. Probably crying. They feel like the same right now.

K’thar climbs onto the raft, wobbling the entire thing. I don’t care. I give him my arm and help him climb on board, not caring that he’s icy wet and his entire body shudders. All I can see is that as his camo slowly turns back to his normal color, he’s covered in scratches and circular bruises that look like they came from tentacle suckers. J’shel is similarly beat up, with a colorful lash around his throat that speaks of the fight that happened under the water, too deep for even a splash to make it to the surface. Did so many minutes pass, then? Or was the fight quick and brutal?

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is my K’thar is back. I grab him and hold him close, still sobbing with relief. I’m all emotional it seems. Gone is the Lo-will-take-charge mentality. I almost lost him, in the blink of an eye. All it took was a moment and then there wouldn’t be a K’thar in this world any longer. My calm is gone and I just cry and cry and cry while he rocks me against his wet chest and tries to soothe my tears.

“Llo,” he murmurs after a time, stroking my cheek. “Is good. All good.”

“I know,” I blubber, and then I just start crying even more when N’dek takes the crying baby from my arms and shoves a blanket into K’thar’s hands. I realize he’s freezing, ice in his wet hair and I haven’t been taking care of him. I should have handled that.

K’thar hands the blanket over to J’shel with a quiet word. Oh, J’shel. He saved my mate. I move to the other man’s side and make him bend down so I can kiss his cheek, weeping. “You are the best guy ever, I swear.”

“Llo K’thar,” my mate growls, pulling me back to his side. J’shel just gives me a bewildered look.

I don’t even mind that my guy is possessive. When he pulls a blanket around his shoulders and then pulls me underneath it, I plaster myself against him gladly. And I cry a little more, because I’m going to have this tiny mental breakdown, damn it, and then I’ll be calm.

Tomorrow, I’ll be back to myself. Today, I’m going to be a little bit of a mess and that’s okay.