I didn’t know what Proximus meant by “store sleep,” but it looks a lot like the way I sleep. The main difference is that he doesn’t seem to care at all about his level of comfort. He simply collapses onto the wooden floor, stretches out, and closes his eyes.

I wait until his eyes are completely closed and he’s clearly sleeping to remove my mantle. I lay it down like a bedsheet, and I lie on it, thankful for the tiny amount of cushioning it provides me.

I keep thinking about the look in Proximus’ eye when I mentioned the female innkeeper. As much as he must like “my shape,” I have started feeling that it actually physically pains him. I wonder if the ratskunk blood isn’t for him as much as it is to keep me safe from others.

I still don’t know how long I actually slept in the forest, I just know that I’m still tired. The dim red sun constantly shining creates one long, weird, and dream-like day which never ends. As soon as I curl up on my mantle, I find myself drifting into sleep.

A knock jolts me awake. I leap up off my mantle, and when I see Proximus’ solid figure standing just next to me, I find myself clutching tightly to him.

There’s another knock. It’s the way police would knock before using a battering ram to break the door down.

“Do all of you knock like that?” I ask.

“Proximus!” A voice shouts through the door.

Proximus looks down at me, at the skin-tight teal suit hugging my curves, and his whole body shudders. His eyes roll back into his head, and his eyelids shut for a moment. He reaches down for the mantle and throws it at me. “Put it on,” he whispers.

I wrap it around myself, and only then does he open his eyes again.

Another booming knock.

Proximus opens the door, putting himself between the visitor and me. I can barely see who it is through Proximus’ body. Whoever it is would have to fight through Proximus to so much as touch me.

“Scipius,” Proximus says, his voice becoming not quite happy, but at least relieved. “Come in.”

Proximus moves aside to let Scipius through, but Scipius glares at me and doesn’t step through the door. “I’m here for one reason, Proximus.”

“Where is our clan?” Proximus asks.

Scipius’ face bulges with anger, and I almost expect him to pull out his skull spear and attack Proximus with it. “Our clan?”

Proximus tilts his head in confusion.

“I left in disgrace when you were chosen as our best fighter,” Scipius says, and he spits right onto the floor in front of Proximus. “I’ll only rejoin once I’ve proven that a lie.”

Before Proximus can speak again, Scipius lunges forward.

I jump backward, terrified that Scipius is going to attack and kill Proximus before he can even react, but instead Proximus lunges forward in response, and their horns clash and lock together.

Scipius says in a voice frothing with rage. “Do you accept?”

“I accept!” Proximus roars back.

They hold their horns locked long enough to glare daggers into each other’s eyes, and they both huff and growl loudly before finally pulling their horns apart. Scipius snarls one last time, turns his back, and stomps away.

Once he’s gone, Proximus can’t even look at me, even with my mantle on and a fresh coat of ratskunk blood applied.

“We have to go,” he says. “To the colosseum. The terms will be agreed upon there, and then the duel begins.”

“The duel?” I ask. “You seriously just accepted a duel?”

He nods.

“Why not just...I don’t know...refuse? You have a lot of shit on your plate right now, Proximus, do you really have time for this?”

“What is a plate?” he asks me.

“Never mind,” I say. “The point is, you just told me we can’t stay here long, that the Emperor Clan is looking for me. Now you’re going to go to a colosseum and duel, won’t that give you away?”

“This is for honor,” he says. “You can’t understand.”

“You think I don’t understand bullheaded male behavior?”

Proximus puts a hand to his horns and looks at me with a confused expression.

“It’s just a phrase,” I say. “Human men can be bullheaded even though they have no horns. It means you are doing something really stupid because of pride or ego.”

“Yes,” he says. “Pride is very important. I must defend it.”

I sigh.

“I will win this duel, Alice,” he says. “And I will strike favorable terms. This will help us on our way, while also defending my reputation as strongest warrior.”

“What happens if you defend your reputation so well that the guys from the ship find you?” I ask.

“This is not your planet,” he says. “News travels slowly here.”

They travelled light years to abduct me and my friends. They travelled the stars and brought us back in a matter of days. Yet somehow news–simple information–travels slowly across Proximus’ planet. I try to imagine this area near the ice as some kind of backwoods. Maybe it’s simply that no one really cares what happens out here? The guards at the bridge made it sound like it would take a long time to use the broadcasting tower to check on Proximus’ story, maybe there’s only one in the whole city, and maybe there’s a long line to use it? Reporting who won a little duel is probably not worth broadcasting at all.

Either way, I can’t see this duel thing going well. I’ve seen Proximus fight, and I know he’s good at it. Scipius looks larger and more imposing than the bandits from the Ice Cliff, and from what I overheard, it sounds like Scipius is the second strongest fighter in Proximus’ clan. Does that mean Proximus has something like a 60% chance to win? If he loses, what happens to me? I know he’s intending to just sell me off, but I do believe his promise that he’ll sell me to someone who will treat me well. Also, in the back of my mind, I hope that in the time it takes him to find a buyer for me, I’ll find a way to locate Elsie and Amber. Maybe we could somehow find a way back to Earth together.

If Proximus loses this duel, that’s all over. As far as I can tell, I have no ability to function in this society. I can’t talk to anyone, and I have to cover myself in stinking blood just to stop the men from going into a complete sexual frenzy. How long would I last on my own? A few hours?

“I can read your face now,” Proximus says. “You are worried.”

I nod to him and sigh.

“Scipius cannot defeat me,” Proximus says. “He simply thinks that dying in this way will give him back the honor he lost.”

“How can he enjoy the honor if he’s dead?” I ask. “That makes no sense.”

“Honor is the only thing that can live beyond death,” Proximus says, narrowing his eyes at me and speaking in a tone that makes me feel like an idiot for not already knowing his weird perception of honor and death.

“Great,” I say. “So then if you die, you’ll have lots of honor too?”

He shakes his head. “There is no honor in losing to our second strongest warrior. You have much to learn, Alice.”