Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
It explains the noises. The earthquakes.
This one doesn’t look close—it seems very, very far away, farther even than the distant mountains—but I know ash can travel far. I’ve seen the news. What I don’t know is what it means for us.
I can’t help but worry. Life is hard here already, and the brutal season everyone keeps talking about is nearly here.
What are we going to do?
“I bet it’s the island,” Josie says near the fire. “Remember, I told you it was all green? Maybe it was warm enough to keep plants growing there because of all the volcanic heat.”
“If that’s the case, it’s gone now,” Georgie tells her in a tired, dull voice. “I don’t know if anything would survive that explosion.”
“Vol-kay-no?” little Esha asks. She’s resting against Claire’s rounded belly, sucking her thumb.
“It’s a big fiery mountain,” Josie explains. “The fire is in its belly and it flings itself out with smoke.”
“And ash?” Esha asks.
“Lots of ash,” Claire says, picking a fleck out of Esha’s smooth black hair.
As the day has gone on, the scatter of people has slowly flocked together. Most are clustered near the fire, and the crowd has grown bigger as the hunters have gone out to the nearest hunter caves and brought back supplies. A few have ventured back into the rubble of the old cave, but there’s not much to be salvaged that isn’t under a ton of rock. Everyone has furs now, and a few hasty half-tents have been erected with spears and leathers to keep out the worst of the wind…and the ash.
We’re covered in ash.
At first, we thought it was just dirt from the cave, but when the snow around us got progressively filthier, we realized it was coming from the volcano. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but it’s not too bad so far. Just enough to make you feel grimy and remind you that this planet isn’t safe, no matter how comfortable you get.
I’m sitting by the fire next to Lila, sharing a blanket with her. Rokan is sandwiched in on Lila’s other side, his arm around her waist, and I can feel his warmth radiating. It feels weird to want to cozy up to him, but as the suns go down, it’s getting colder and colder. No one’s ready to complain yet, though, so we’re sucking it up. Today we’re just existing. Tomorrow there will be plans for survival and strategy, but for now, we’re just a wounded family leaning on each other.
Across from me, Georgie nurses her daughter, brushing her curls back from her horns over and over again. Her mate, Vektal, sits at her side, his posture strong and proud. Only his face shows the lines of worry and concern. He looks older and more tired as the day goes on. I’m glad I’m not chief—I’m not sure I’d want all of this on my shoulders.
Maylak and Pashov are both resting in a nearby lean-to. Stacy hasn’t left her mate’s side, even though he hasn’t woken up. Maylak collapsed in exhaustion a few hours ago and is taking a much-needed nap, Kashrem providing his lap as a pillow for the healer.
Pashov’s not doing worse…but he’s not doing better, either, and Maylak has wiped herself out trying to help him. Everyone’s cuts and bruises—and some have broken limbs—will have to wait another day. Others are pitching in and helping out, and baby Pacy is currently with Megan. Makash, Maylak’s infant son, is with Liz.
In the distance, there are a few figures hunched over in the snow. They don’t want to join the fire. One is Warrek, who is taking the death of his elderly father badly. He needs space, and I don’t blame him. Sometimes you have to work through things without people talking to you and asking you questions. Two hunters are at his side, offering silent companionship so he doesn’t have to be alone in his grief. One of them is Bek…
And one is Hassen.
My Hassen. It feels weird to say that, but right now, I kind of feel like he’s mine. He snatched me from the cave and saved me from certain death. And I realized as people gathered, flocking to family, that Hassen has none. He is one of the many that has no family surviving the khui-sickness from so many years ago. He’s completely alone.
So I’m claiming him. He’s mine now.
I watch his back as he sits a few feet away from Warrek. He’s normally full of energy and life, but today he’s moving a little slower, and that concerns me. I know it’s because of everything that’s happened and he’s fighting a multitude of bruises and worry—everyone is. But I don’t like to see it in Hassen. I worry about him.
He’s also avoiding me. He woke up a few hours ago, scanned the tribe like he was mentally counting heads, and I felt it the moment he saw me. Goosebumps prickled all over my body. I wanted him to come and hug me in front of everyone, but his gaze went to his chief and then moved on. A few moments later, he got up and went to Warrek’s side, and he’s been there ever since. Poor guy. I’m also a little hurt that all I got was an eyeballing, but how can I bitch at a time like this? He’s comforting a friend.