Chapter Twenty-Six

Darq

Skimmer tracks paralleled the frozen creek and headed downstream. Calian had given good directions thus far, and if the rest panned out, the burned-out clearing would be upstream about a tripta. I eyed the tracks. What if Romando was moving Sunny someplace else? Searchers had been canvassing yesterday. Had they made it to Polonio’s tribe? Someone might have warned Romando. Then again, the tracks could belong to anybody, in which case I’d be chasing a wild phea.

Go to the clearing. If there’s no hut, then circle back and follow the tracks.

I headed to the right, toward my original destination. Soon the wood showed evidence of fire. No underbrush poked through the pack, and the standing trees were denuded, charred. Only the oldest, stoutest, and tallest with boughs above the fire line had any leaves left.

The creek curved to the right. I would have followed it, but the rutted tracks led on ahead, so I acted on instinct and went that way. In a quarter tripta, I entered a clearing with a small Terran-built cabin. Mottled in tan and white, the panels faded against the snowy landscape.

I rode up to the hut and idled, waiting for Romando to charge out. But…nobody. Was anybody here? Was this even his hut? I had only Calian’s suggestion Romando might be here, and he hadn’t wanted to assist me. He could have sent me on a ruse.

Or Romando had been here but abandoned the hut already.

I swung off the skimmer and kicked open the door.

A chair rested on its side. Strings of dried kel hung from the ceiling; one strand had been hacked off, and bits of meat littered the floor, along with braided strips of hide. Cabinets were open, with contents spilling out. I slammed the hut door, hopped on my skimmer, and reversed. I’d follow the tracks.

Mmmmmm.

Romando rode into the clearing. Alone.

I switched off the skimmer and confronted him. “Where’s Sunny?”

He flicked his gaze to the hut. “How should I know?” He scowled, dismounted, and grabbed two dead phea from a travois.

“I know you took her! Where is she?”

He ignored me, and, swinging the two birds by their necks, strode to the hut. He nudged the door ajar with his foot and peeked inside before shoving it open. “As you can see—I don’t have her. If she was important to you, you should have taken better care not to lose her. If there’s nothing else”—he raised the phea—“I have birds to dress.”

“What did you do with her?” I lunged. He slipped, the dead phea went flying, and he fell against the hut. His punch went wild; I dodged and retaliated with a hook that grazed his chin.

“Where is Sunny?” My direct shot whipped his head back, but the forward motion unbalanced me. I slipped on the ice and fell.

Romando kicked; I rolled, taking a boot to the shoulder instead of the head. I grabbed his foot and pulled him down. Rolling and wrestling, we pummeled each other. Our thick, heavy clothing softened the impact of our punches, but it felt good to hit him. And when I caught a blow, it only put more determination into my fist.

“Tell me where Sunny is.” Thump. I split his lip with an uppercut. He grunted and painted the snow a pleasing red with his blood. I hit him again.

“You stole my chance for a mate. How does it feel?” he taunted.

“So you admit you have her!” I caught him in a headlock. “Where is she?”

He choked. “She’s not here. She escaped,” he bit out.

“She escaped?”

“I left her…tied up while I checked my traps. Obviously…she got away.”

The upended chair, the kel ties on the floor…his hesitation when he’d opened the hut door—he spoke the truth, but that made it worse. Much worse.

“She’s alone in the wilderness?” I wanted to choke him, but I shoved him away and sprang to my feet. I had assumed he’d hidden her elsewhere, someplace safe. I surveyed the clearing, searching for tracks. “Which way would she have gone?”

“How should I know?” He wiped blood away with the back of his hand.

“How long ago did she leave?”

“Depends on how long it took her to free herself. An hour? Half an hour? Five minutes?” He shrugged, but he was beginning to look concerned. It had finally dawned on him a lone Terran female couldn’t survive for long.

Other than the skimmer ruts, the disturbance from our scuffle, the only signs of activity led to the latrine. Romando followed my gaze then stalked to the outhouse and pushed open the door. “Sunny?” he called. He shook his head.

The door banged shut.

Where could she have gone? How could she have gone? If she’d hiked out, she would have left footprints. Unless—I eyed the ruts. What if she’d walked in those tracks to avoid leaving a trail? If she’d had an hour head start, she could be three or four tripta upstream by now.

I swung my leg over my machine and glowered at Romando. “If anything has happened to her, I’ll kill you.” I zoomed off into the dead forest.