LAUREN

The warriors are on high alert for the rest of the afternoon. Now that we know that the things in the water are aware of us, and that they’re hungry, I see spears and knives out instead of paddles. K’thar and the others insist that Z’hren and I move to the center of the raft at all times, and I know they’re being protective. I want to help out, but it’s not worth the argument, so I move to the middle…and K’thar’s tail stays wrapped around my ankle at all times, as if he’s unwilling to let me go. I don’t mind that in the slightest.

I never want him out of my sight again. I don’t care if that’s clingy. I’ll happily cling to that alien’s leg for the rest of my life as long as it means we’re together, always. I’m crazy with love for him, and I tell him over and over again every time he touches me. I don’t know that he understands the word ‘love’ but it doesn’t matter. My touches tell him everything.

It’s near sunset on day two when I see a tiny plume of smoke drifting against the pinkish golden sky. The mountains have loomed steadily closer, and that smoke on the horizon excites me. It’s not enough smoke to be another volcano. It’s tiny and thin, but I think it’s just the right size for an encampment’s fire.

They’re still there at the beach. Thank god.

I point it out, and we start to paddle in that direction. It’s against the current, but with four strong arms to each man on the raft, we’re able to push ahead until we plow close enough to shore that the waves start to carry us forward. I can see the fire on the cliffs against the twilight, and I feel a bit of excitement—and worry—in the pit of my stomach.

Do the others—Harlow and her mate, Liz and hers, Vektal and Rokan and all the other blue aliens—think Marisol and I are dead? No one ever came after us, but they sank the only ship. Granted, it was a spaceship, but rafting over from the island—and K’thar’s near death—tells me that the water’s too dangerous for a lot of crossings back and forth. Even now I look at the dark waters around us with terror and dread. I can’t wait to be off of this raft and back on shore.

I wonder—far too late, of course—if more mouths to feed will be welcome. I never stopped to think about if there was enough food for all. Surely there will be. And I wonder what’s happened in the month that we’ve been gone. Has anyone else resonated? Have they built shelters?

Has Willa been found? Or is she…dead? I don’t like to think about that.

I brush ash off of my arms as I lean forward on the raft. It’s not like that will help things move along, but I feel the need to lean just the same. I’m eager to get back to the others, to bring K’thar and his people to shore. To get their bellies full of hot food and show them that yes, there are other people left, and they’re good guys and we can all live happily together on the beach.

I hope. God, I hope. I’ve seen how the three different groups get along and they bicker and fight, but the three rafts strung together tell me that they’re willing to work together for a common cause. I hope that my blue guys will feel the same about Harlow and Liz’s blue guys. I’m so nervous.

Like it or not, though, there’s no going back. There’s no island to go back to. The ash falling on my arms and in my hair is proof of that. If they don’t want us with them…we’ll just go elsewhere. We can figure out how to catch food on our own, and I remember a little how to build a fire. We’ll manage. One step at a time, that’s all it takes.

But then our rafts are sliding toward shore, carried in by the rolling tide. No one at the distant campfire has noticed us yet, as we’re pretty far down the rocky beach. It’s bitterly cold, though, and Z’hren makes fussy noises of distress until I wrap him tighter against my chest, snuggled under the layers of furs I wear.

Ignoring the cold, R’jaal and K’thar get out and wade to shore, then guide the raft chain in, tugging us forward. One by one, we step onto land, and my legs wobble with relief as I step onto the crunching sand. Thank you, sand. Thank you, mountains. Thank you, distant fire. Thank you for being here, because I’m mighty tired of ocean.

It takes a few minutes for everyone to pile onto the beach. Some of the others think to grab supplies, and M’tok and S’bren help carry T’chai forward, Marisol at his side. Everyone huddles in the cold, waiting.

Then A’tam clears his throat. “Is cold,” he points out, his toothy grin bright in the darkness. “Fire?”

They all watch me, waiting. Oh, of course. I feel silly for making them wait. I’ve been the one demanding and fussing and pushing this entire time. I need to see things through until the end and not just hand over the reins on the beach. I gesture at the fire. “I’m going to go say hello and remind them that Mari and I are alive. Are you coming, Mari?”

She hesitates, then clasps her mate’s hand. “I want to stay with T’chai.” Her voice is wobbly, as if she’s fighting back tears. “Just in case.”

Just in case…. Is he that bad she worries he’ll die at any moment? My heart aches for her and I nod. “All right, I’ll go alone.” I gesture to the others and hand Z’hren over to K’thar. “Wait here.”

My big alien scowls at me and hands the baby to N’dek. Kki perches on K’thar’s shoulder and he tries to shoo him off, but the thing only flaps its wings, irritated, and stays. “K’thar go,” my mate tells me. “K’thar Llo.”

I can guess what that means—we’re a team, and we do this together. Even though I’m a little worried at how they’ll take the sight of a new guy—especially one that changes colors and has four arms—I’m glad that he’s going to be at my side. It seems right. I extend my hand to him. “Lo K’thar,” I agree. He’s mine and I’m his.

K’thar speaks quietly to the others and I see U’dron and I’rec drop their packs on shore, getting comfortable for the wait. I hope it won’t be long, but I don’t know how the others are going to react. I shouldn’t be worried—they accepted all of us humans with open arms. But a lot has happened in the last month on my end, and I can’t even presume to think of what’s happened on this beach while we’ve been gone.

But then my mate gives Kki to J’shel and turns to me. He takes my hand and pulls me under his furs, keeping me warm, and then we’re walking down the beach toward the fire, and toward our new home. It’s a short walk, maybe five or ten minutes, and the only thing I can hear for the longest time is the hum of his khui in his chest and the crash of the waves against the shore. As we move forward, though, I can hear…singing coming from the campfire ahead.

Really, really bad singing.

“I swear, you guys really are the worst,” Liz says, her voice rising above the others. “You couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket, Zolaya.”

A ripple of laughter meets her insult, and the one called Zolaya starts singing louder—and she’s right. He’s terrible. There’s more laughter, and then a gasp. Several people jump to their feet, staring into the shadows.

Staring at us.

I swallow hard and then step forward, pushing K’thar behind me. “Hi honey, we’re home.”