WILLA

Another day passes. Despite the tea, his wounds get worse, until I feel the sickness of it is in my nostrils. I keep the fire going, though, and force tea on him every time he wakes up. Hassen doesn’t return to bother us, at least, but Gren doesn’t awaken much, either. I feel like he’s sinking and it’s just a matter of time. So I curl up next to him and hold his hand, tracing my fingers over the uninjured parts of his knuckles to let him know that I’m here, and I’m with him, and that I won’t ever leave his side.

I don’t even realize I’m asleep until I hear Gren growl.

I spring to my feet, disoriented and dizzy. I’m so tired that I’m drifting off to sleep even when I’m not supposed to. I don’t remember the last time I ate more than a handful of trail mix, and I’m weak and tired. I scramble to pick up the spear, even as I hear voices in the tunnel. Different voices.

“Gren?” a woman calls out, and my alien growls furiously. "My name's Veronica. I'm here with my mate, Ashtar. We're not coming to hurt you, or to try and take Willa away from you. I know you're wounded and we just want to help you. Can we come in?"

Veronica? The girl from the beach? The one that resonated to the golden guy? What would she be doing here? Confused, I clutch the spear and look at Gren, still in the blankets. His eyes are glassy, and he’s growling furiously, but he makes no attempt to get up. That’s bad.

“Gren?” I whisper. “How are you feeling?”

He gives an angry snarl, and then he’s silent.

My heart hammers painfully in my chest. He’s worse than ever. These might be his last moments. I turn to the tunnel, uncertain. Veronica says she wants to help…do I trust her? I think of her face—unassuming and sweet—and decide to take a chance. “Wait here,” I tell Gren. I slap the spear down on the ground and grab the bone torch from the edge of the fire—it’s the same one that Hassen used, and I think it’s a thigh-bone of some sort of animal with sticky, resin-covered leather on the end that seems to burn for a long period of time. I saved it in case I needed it. Now, I stick it into the fire, wait for it to catch, and then head for the tunnel.

I go a few steps in, holding the torch high, and then I see them. Veronica’s there, her brown curls wind-tousled, her skin rosy. She has a fur muff over her hands and her leathers look so much cleaner than mine. She smells fresh. I probably look like a crazy woman, and I touch my hand to my filthy hair absently. How long has it been since I bathed? It’s not on the priority list. Ashtar’s behind her, one hand on her shoulder and frowning at me. I ignore him and study Veronica. “You mean it?”

She blinks. “Which part?”

“The part where you’re not going to take me from him?” I hold the torch higher, so I can see both of their faces.

"We're here to see if we can help. That means healing, and it's all that it means. I promise."

Yeah. I’m not sure I believe that. “You're not here to rescue me?"

"I guess that depends on if you want to be rescued," Veronica’s expression grows wry. "Ashtar took me away, and I guess that could be interpreted as 'stealing me', except I have no desire to be rescued. I'm not sure that the big blue guys agree, but I figure there's room enough on the planet for everyone to have differing opinions now and then."

I hesitate. Do I trust them? It sounds good, but…I don’t know anymore. I’m so tired. I rub my face, wishing I knew what to do. "Please, please don't betray my trust."

"We won’t.” Veronica’s voice is easy, confident, and she steps forward, palms spread to show she has no weapon. "He's injured, isn't he?"

I fight to speak past the knot in my throat. "He's dying. I don't want him to die thinking he's still someone's captive. Please…"

“He won’t. I'm a healer, Willa. I can heal him…or at least, I can try. But I can't do it out here."

A healer? I don’t know what she means by that, but Gren is on his last legs. If he was a dog, Uncle Dick would have put him down days ago.

I still hate Uncle Dick.

Anger and frustration rush through me, followed by exhaustion. If I’m going to trust them, I need to move out of the tunnel. “Please,” I say, not entirely sure what I’m asking at this point, and then indicate they should follow me. I head back into the cave that’s been our home for the last two days—or has it been more? I don’t even know any longer. I drop next to Gren’s spot, and I can hear him growling low, even though his eyes are focused on nothing but the fire. He doesn’t see me. I take his hand anyhow. “Gren, friends are here. They’re going to help you, all right?”

He growls, and I don’t know if he’s answering me or just reacting to different scents.

Veronica is fearless, bless her heart. She moves to my side and smiles cheerfully. “Hi Gren. I'm Veronica. That guy over there is my mate." She points across the fire to the big golden guy, who has his arms crossed and looks as if he’s ready to snatch Veronica away if Gren makes one wrong move. Veronica doesn’t seem to see it, though. She pats her chest. "You can probably hear us resonating, right? That means there's no chance either of us is going to take Willa from you."

Bless her heart a thousand times, she actually thinks he can get up from his bed.

I stroke his hand, and for a moment, I think he can see me. I smile at him, trying to make it seem like all of this is totally okay. I hate that we’re talking around him, though. “He only knows a little of our language. No one gave him a translation chip.”

“Will he attack if I touch him? I want to help, but I have to put my hands on him to heal him.”

Faith healing. Yeah, okay. I’ve seen this in a few churches back home. Don’t rightly believe in it, but at this point, I’m willing for Veronica to do anything. I stroke Gren’s knuckles. “Gren, sugar. Veronica’s a friend. You trust me, right? Willa friend, Gren friend, Veronica friend.”

His eyes focus on me. “Friend.” His gaze flicks to Veronica, and then he snarls as if just now seeing her.

I lick my lips and don’t let go of his hand, because I need him to trust her. I crawl on my knees, moving to his other side so I can give her room to sit by him. “Ignore the snarling,” I say, my voice soothing as I caress his brow. I don’t know if I’m speaking more for him or for her, or if I’m just tired and babbling. "I had an old feral cat back home that would hiss at you even when she showed up for cuddles. I think he thinks it's normal, and no one's ever tried to show him otherwise. He really is a good guy, though. Very sweet. Very caring. He's protected me and kept me safe. He doesn't deserve to die like this."

The best guy. I love him. I watch as he closes his eyes, and I want to put his hand to my mouth and kiss his knuckles so he feels my touch…but I don’t want to interfere, either.

“He’s not going to,” Veronica tells me, all confidence. She reaches for the blankets and peels them back, and someone gags. "What happened?"

I find myself lying to her. The truth—me taking a stupid pee—seems too ridiculous to share. That’s private, for me and Gren to know. “Snowcats,” I say. “A lot of them. They were hungry and thought I was dinner. Gren saved me.” I feel like crying all over again, and I kiss Gren’s knuckles, thinking of how brave he was. “I was out hunting,” I lie, “Didn’t even realize I’d wandered into a den of them. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.” That part’s not a lie, and I give her a defiant look. “The others can call him any kind of monster they want, but he’s been wonderful to me.”

She doesn’t look up, just continues to study Gren. “Is that why he stole you? Because you two resonated?”

What? “Stole me? Everyone thinks he stole me?”

“He didn’t?”

I’m shocked they would think that. No wonder Hassen and Zolaya came after us with ropes. They think I’ve been abducted. "No! I freed him, and we left. Why would I want to stay with people that treat him so badly? He was scared and they tied him up like he was an animal. I wanted to help him and he didn't want to be alone. No one stole me."

"I see. We can tell the others about that. Maybe it'll change their minds. Did you two…have you…" She looks uncomfortable. “Are you guys resonating?"

I wish. I think of how many times I’ve rubbed my chest, wishing it would make some sort of peep towards Gren’s. “No. We're just friends. I think he could use someone that has his back. Does it have to be sexual?"

"I don't imagine it does, no. I was just curious. Seems like there have been a lot of misunderstandings. We'll do what we can to help and then we'll talk to the others, won't we, Ashtar?" She turns and smiles at the giant by the fire.

He crosses his arms and looks sour. "No one is taking us anywhere we do not want to go. I did not escape one master to have new ones."

For some reason, that makes me feel better. I’d forgotten that Ashtar was a slave, too. He’d understand how Gren feels. Maybe Veronica can do something for him after all. I watch as she offers him her hand.

Gren snarls at her, fever glazing his eyes.

“Gren.” I squeeze his hand and then touch his chest, careful of his wounds. “Veronica is a friend. Willa friend, Veronica friend, Gren friend.”

His eyes focus on me, and I hope I’m right. If they betray us…but I give him an encouraging smile, hoping he can see the love in my eyes.

He looks over at Veronica slowly, at her outstretched hand. "Friend," he says eventually, and then puts his hand in hers.

The moment they touch, Veronica goes utterly still. Her eyes snap shut, and then she stiffens. Gren does, too. Worried, I keep petting his hand. “It’s going to be all right,” I whisper to him.

But then his eyes close and he groans, slumping into unconsciousness.

I panic, looking at Veronica, but she hasn’t moved. She still sits, resting on her folded legs, her hand tightly clenching his, her back ramrod straight. Her eyes move under her eyelids, like she’s having a wild dream. Worried, I glance over at Ashtar.

“This is how she heals,” he says, his voice terse. He hasn’t moved, just watches Veronica from across the fire as if he’s torn between kissing the heck out of her and snatching her away. “This is normal.”

“Is it?” I glance down at Gren, who passed out. He’s unconscious, but his breathing does seem to be easier. “She’s really a healer then?”

“It is something with her khui,” he explains, tapping on his chest. “I have seen her do this to others. She healed my wing, too.”

I squint up at him. “Wing?” What on earth is he talking about? But he only watches Veronica, ignoring my question. I figure I heard him wrong and turn back to Gren. “Will this work?”

“If anyone can do it, she can.” There’s so much pride in his voice that it’s reassuring.

So I watch for a bit longer. Veronica doesn’t reach for him or touch his wounds. She just holds his hand and her cootie gives off this weird song that’s different from before. At first, I think she’s resonating to Gren—my Gren—but I realize Ashtar’s not worried, so this just must be a thing that goes with healing. “Thank you for coming,” I tell him. “I don’t know how you knew—”

“Zolaya told us. He insisted.”

Zolaya? I’m surprised. I thought he and Hassen were doing their best to get me away from Gren. Why heal him? I don’t have answers, but if I see Zolaya again, I’ll tell him I’m grateful. Even if he hates Gren, he’s saving him. I think of Gren and watch his beloved face. His snout twitches ever so slightly, but he doesn’t rouse. His eyes are doing the weird dancing thing behind the eyelid like Veronica’s are, and for a moment, I’m terribly, terribly jealous of the bond they’re sharing. Why couldn’t I be the one to save him? Instead, I’m the one that’s caused him to nearly be killed.

Over a pee break, of all things. I’m glad I didn’t tell Veronica the truth.

“Does…this take long?” I ask Ashtar as the seconds seem to slide past like hours.

“Far too long,” he agrees, and again he sounds annoyed, as if he’s not entirely pleased that Veronica’s doing this.

“Ah.”

“You can sleep,” he tells me. “I’ll wake you if anything changes.” He doesn’t move from his spot near the fire—close to Veronica, but just far enough away to give her space.

“No, I’m good,” I say and continue to hold Gren’s hand. I’m not letting him go. Ever.

So I just hold his hand and watch.

And wait.

Time passes. I don’t know how much or how long, just that Veronica remains utterly still (except for the flutter of her closed eyes) and so no one else moves, either. Ashtar keeps his vigil by the fire, his gaze glued to her, and I don’t let go of Gren, even though my hand is sweaty in his. At some point I nod off, waking up to see Ashtar leaning over the fire and breathing on it to bring the flames to life again. I scrub at my eyes, not entirely convinced I’m not dreaming, and then drift back off to sleep.

I wake up again a short time later and neither Veronica nor Gren has moved. I touch Gren’s brow carefully, not wanting to disturb the healing that Veronica is concentrating so hard on. He’s cool. His hair is damp with sweat, but no fever burns any longer. I suck in a breath, shocked and pleased. Hesitantly, I push aside a tuft of fur over one of the worst of the bite wounds and it looks better. Much better. The skin is dimpled and reddened, but no longer broken and scabbed. It’s definitely no longer infected.

“How the heck did she do that?” I whisper, full of wonder.

“She is special,” Ashtar says, his voice full of pride. He watches his mate closely. After a moment, he moves forward, to her side. Just as he does, Veronica gives a little sigh, and the ramrod-straight pose she’s been keeping slips away. She slumps over, and Ashtar catches her before she can hit the ground.

“Is she okay?”

“She will sleep,” he says. “For a long, long time.” And he carries her quietly to the far end of the cave, into the shadows. I hear him rustling about in the furs, no doubt setting up a bed for his mate, and then it gets quiet. It’s just me and Gren by the crackling fire.

I turn back to him, stroking his knuckles thoughtfully. “Did she heal you?” I whisper to my sleeping beast. “Are you going to come back to me?”

To my delight, Gren’s lips part. He opens his eyes and gazes at me sleepily, and then bares his teeth in that grimace of a smile that I’ve come to love.

“Blessurhart,” he tells me, and pats my cheek sleepily.

And I cry-laugh and kiss his knuckles with happiness.