K’THAR

I do not know how the one called Mardok made my mate speak my language. Perhaps it is a magic that they can teach us. I do not care. All I know is that my L’ren is beaming up at me with bright, happy eyes even as she weeps.

“This is so wonderful,” she says between sniffles. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for so long, K’thar. You have no idea.”

“Yes, I do,” I tell her gently. “I have wanted the same thing.”

“Oh. Right.” She gives a teary giggle and then flings herself into my embrace, wrapping her small arms around my neck.

“I see it was a success,” Mardok says in a pleased voice, putting his magic speaking tool away. “We will get M’rsl in the morning. I don’t think she will leave her mate’s side right now.”

“You have my thanks,” I tell them. “You all do.” I am overwhelmed with this evening. So much has happened in the short while since we arrived that my head feels as if it spins atop my neck. I did not imagine that the others here would be sakh, or that they would be able to heal T’chai. Or that they would make my mate speak my words. Or that J’shel would resonate as soon as we arrived, and N’dek and Z’hren are safe with good food in their bellies and…

It is too much. My knees grow weak and I stagger, one knee going to the ground.

“Sit,” Vektal says with a firm hand on my arm. “You and your people have been through much today.”

“I will get more food,” the sakh female says, her voice pleasant. She gets to her feet in a fluid motion and escapes the tent, back into the cold. I am surprised that the people here—sakh people, for all that I cannot tell what clan they should be—wear very little clothing. The hoo-mans dress in many layers as we do. It is bitterly cold, like my mate said it would be, but it does not seem to bother these people.

Well, most of these people. Vektal wears leather boots and a loincloth, but the one called Mardok wears nearly as many layers as I do.

“Sit, bb,” Llo tells me, mixing some of her words with mine. She brushes my hair back from my face. “We can relax now. I promise. We’re safe.”

I nod and sit wearily on the ground. It is as if all of my strength has left me. We are here. We are safe. We can rest. I pull my Llo into my arms, settling her in my lap. I refuse to let her get an arm’s length away from me. Not just yet.

She does not seem to mind, though. She slides her arms around my waist and leans her cheek against my shoulder, and I wrap myself around her.

“Most stories will have to wait until morning,” Vektal says. “But before I go, I wish to know about your people. Are there more on the island?”

I shake my head. “All gone. We are the only clans that are left. My people are the clan of the Strong Arm. R’jaal’s are the clan of the Tall Horn, and O’jek’s clan is that of Shadowed Cat. We are the only ones to survive the death of the Great Smoking Mountain.”

“The first death,” my mate corrects, and I nod.

“But how did you get to the island?” Vektal wants to know. “And how are your people so different? The one you call R’jaal looks very different from you, and some”—he pauses, gesturing at his chin—“they wear fur here.”

“Many different traits,” I agree. “It is how the clans are determined. If a kit is born with four arms, he would go to the Strong Arm clan. Keep the blood strong. Sometimes there would be a kit in our clan born with only two arms, and he would be given to a couple in Tall Horn or Shadowed Cat to raise with the people he belonged to.”

“Recessive genes,” Mardok murmurs. “From a common ancestor.”

I do not understand these words, but my mate makes a sound of agreement. “That’s probably it,” she says. “It’s clear you guys have a common ancestor.”

I cannot get over how sweet her voice is as she speaks my words. I love the sound of it, and my khui begins to hum in agreement with my pleasure. “Perhaps,” I say, since I am not sure of what they agree upon.

“But according to our records,” Mardok continues, “Vektal, your people settled here when their spaceship crashed more than a thousand years ago. He’s speaking Old Sakh, like we do, so his people must have come from the crash as well, but that doesn’t explain the face pelt or the”—he coughs into his hand and looks a little awkward—“extra limbs.”

My mate lifts her head, gazing at me with bright eyes. “How did your father’s fathers get to the land?”

“There are old stories,” I tell her with a shrug. “The ancestors came looking for good hunting grounds and they met the People.”

“The People?” Llo asks, curious.

I nod. “The original People. They were few when my ancestors met them, but they formed strong clans together. Over time, it became four clans.” I grow sad, thinking of how many of us there used to be before the Great Smoking Mountain’s death. “Then…three.”

“The recessive traits might be why he doesn’t have sharp teeth, but O’jek does,” Llo continues excitedly. “Or why R’jaal and T’chai have horns as big as you guys.” She gestures at Vektal and Mardok. “But all of them can change colors.”

Mardok frowns. “Change colors?”

My Llo gives me a proud look, as if she is pleased I have such skills. “Show ’em, bb.”

Now it is my turn to feel uncomfortable. Camouflaging is as natural as breathing, but to do it on command feels strange. I glance at the fire nearby and hold my hand toward it, letting the flames flicker near my skin. As they do, my colors change, matching the reddish glow of the fire itself, and the shadows with it. When I pull back, my color returns to its normal restive blue.

“Impressive,” Vektal murmurs, arms crossed over his chest. “It is not a trait our people share.”

Mardok makes a sound of surprise. “Maybe that’s why our tracking only picked you up some of the time and didn’t see anyone else on this world. I wonder if the camouflage itself somehow interrupts the signals the ship can pick up…or if the electromagnetic fields on the island were too much for our equipment. I’m going to have to study this.” He looks excited at the thought.

“I do not know what you just said,” I admit.

“I’ll explain later, bb,” my mate says in an affectionate voice.

This time when I hear it, I must ask. “What is this bb?”

Mardok chuckles. Vektal snorts with equal amusement. “I have heard this ‘bb’ many a time. It is a human term for a kit. They say it when they are pleased with their males. My mate calls me this word when she wants something.” His hard expression softens. “And since we speak of mates, I must tell you that I miss mine, far too much to want to stay away from her much longer.” He exchanges a look with Mardok and then glances back at me. “Which is why I am very curious about your people.”

“Oh?” I am wary. Is he going to demand that we leave? My grip tightens on my Llo. I will not leave her side, whatever happens.

“Your arrival is either a new problem…or the answer I needed.” His look is serious as he moves to sit near us.

The female sakh reenters the tent with two steaming bowls of food and hands them to us. Even though we ate not long ago, I find that I can eat more. I will not let go of my mate, though. She takes the bowl politely but does not eat, watching me instead.

“You miss your mate,” I guess, and he nods. I understand this. When I had to leave Llo behind, it felt like I was in agony. I cannot imagine being parted from her for long.

“Mine lives in the stone village far from here, with our kits and the mates of my hunters. They have been without us for longer than a full turn of the moons, and the brutal season is coming. I miss my Georgie.” His hand clenches and goes over his heart. “More than anything, I want to look upon her face. I want to hold my daughters in my arms and hear their voices. But…I cannot leave this place if it means it will be death for your people and for the humans here.”

Mardok speaks up, then. “My mate Farli and I will stay for a time, and so will Taushen and his mate. The newcomers are still learning much, but the game is plentiful here on the shore and the weather is milder than inland. The brutal season will not bother us as much as it will those back in Croatoan village.”

My mate perks up. “Did you just say Croatoan?”

“Yes. It is a word the humans picked,” Farli says with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. “That is the name of our village. The humans of this place have chosen to call it Icehome.”

“Pretty,” my Llo says. “I like that.”

It is a simple name, but a fitting one. “The two clans wish to be apart?”

“For now,” Vektal nods. “We will be journeying back to our village, but others will be coming to teach how to survive and to be of assistance. But not all of us can stay. We have families and kits that need us just as much as we are needed here.” He looks torn. “But we will not leave if the humans here will be in danger from your clans.”

In danger? I hold my mate closer. “Why would they be in danger?”

“No one knows you,” Vektal’s voice is blunt. “We do not know your customs, and our people have been attacked in the past.”

“And recently,” Mardok agrees. “Look at Willa.”

Vektal’s expression is grim. “Yes. That did not turn out as I hoped, but it was not a bad thing. She will calm him, if he can be calmed.” He gives a small shake of his head. “There is much to think about.”

“K’thar and his people are good and kind,” my mate says, sitting up against me. Her jaw firms in a stubborn expression. “He could have been cruel to me, but K’thar has kept me safe at all times, even at his own expense.”

“Llo,” I murmur, pleased at her defense of me.

She thinks I am trying to quiet her, though, and pats my knee to silence me. “It’s true,” she continues. “He fed me even when there was nothing for him to eat. I wanted clothing and he made sure I was covered up. They’ve taken care of an orphaned baby even though they don’t know anything about babies. And Mari has been treated wonderfully by R’jaal and T’chai and their tribe. Everyone has worked really hard to get here and I don’t want anyone thinking they’re a problem.” She sounds upset at the very thought. “These are good men and I trust them with my life.”

Vektal listens to her solemnly, and then turns his gaze to me. “And you? What do you think of all of this? We have a new ‘clan’ as you call it, of four males and sixteen females. It may sound wonderful to you if you have been living for a long time with no females, but that is a lot of mouths to feed. There will be resonances, and then there will be even more to feed over time. What will your hunters think of this?”

“My hunters knew this would be a change,” I tell him. “R’jaal and his clan, O’jek and his clan, my clan—we are fragments of what we once were. When there was danger to the females, we banded together to protect them. When it was time to build rafts so we could escape the island and the Great Smoking Mountain, we all worked together. I see now that it is something we should have done many turns ago, when our clans were first shattered. Instead, we held on to the old ways…and that was wrong.” I hold my mate closer, stroke her soft cheek. “I am tired of many broken clans. We are strongest as one. If there is a chief of your clan, I will lay down my mantle of leadership and follow him, because it is best for all that we work together. I know R’jaal and O’jek will feel the same.”

Vektal nods. “This is a good answer.”

And my mate beams at me proudly, utterly pleased. “It’s because he’s so smart.”

In her approving gaze, I feel like the luckiest hunter ever.