Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
R’jaal rubs the fur on his chin. “Metlaks, then? S’bren and M’tok said they have seen more of them hunting lately.”
Leezh shakes her head. “The metlaks stay farther in the mountains. If they’re coming closer to the beach, that’s a whole new problem.”
“It doesn’t seem like a metlak thing?” H’rlow says. “They would have torn apart the vines or fouled the pool. You know they’re destructive. But you said everything was clean?”
“Neat and tidy,” A’tar agrees. “If I hadn’t been there recently, I would have assumed that no fruit was in season. So not metlaks, then.”
Leezh turns to me. “Well, great leader? You wanted to be part of this conversation. Any bright ideas?”
“Someone has clearly stolen and will not speak up. We need to find where they have hidden this fruit and retrieve it. Perhaps it is someone from Strong Arm or Tall Horn.”
R’jaal bares his teeth at me. “You dare—?”
“What is more likely?” I retort. “That a Tall Horn decided to snatch the fruit while out on a hunt? Or that metlaks left a tidy cave?”
R’kh tilts his head, and I can see he agrees with me.
“Is it possible that it’s someone else?” H’rlow asks, her expression thoughtful. “We didn’t know Pak and Juth survived the island’s destruction until they showed up. If it’s not someone here in Icehome and it’s not someone from Croatoan, perhaps there’s another survivor.”
“And that survivor is hungry and needs supplies,” R’jaal agrees. He seems relieved. “This makes sense.”
Bah. My idea has far more merit. I still do not know if I believe this tale of fruit-stealing survivors. “Then it is another outcast? We scoured every leaf on the island. If someone from Long Tail had survived, we would have known it. If it was Strong Arm or Tall Horn or Shadow Cat, they would have come home.”
“There is a logical explanation,” H’rlow says. “We simply need to find it.”
R’kh exchanges a look with R’hosh. “We should send hunters. Strong ones. No kits. No females. If they ate fruit once, they will return for more.”
R’hosh gives a curt nod. “We will send a party out in the morning. A’tar, you stay. If it is not a friendly outcast, you might be needed to guard the village.”
“I will go,” R’jaal says.
“And I,” I add automatically. I am determined not to let the Tall Horn leader best me at anything.
“Oh no,” Leezh says to me. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve knocked up Flor. You’re too distracted to be useful to anyone except your mate. You’re staying right here and playing house with Flordeliza until your cooties settle down.”
Bah. I hate that she is right. I cannot leave F’lor’s side. Not right now. Not when we sing so strongly each time we cross paths. I rub my chest…and then rub it a little harder when I catch R’jaal scowling in my direction. That makes me feel a little better. “I will tell my clan to stay close to camp, then. You should take A’tam with you. He has the best nose of us all. He will tell you what he scents.”
And he will tell me everything R’jaal says.
R’hosh gestures at all of us. “Spread the word. The fruit caves are off-limits for visiting now. We will send a group of strong hunters with R’jaal in the morning to investigate. Once they determine it is safe, we will open the fruit caves again. Until then, no one goes there but R’jaal and his group. And no females.” His mate puts her hands on her hips, but he raises a hand to fend off her objections. “If it is an outcast, he will be unpredictable around a female. You know this to be true.”
“Damn it, I do,” Leezh mutters. “Always sidelining the vaginas, this damn planet.”
I speak to the Shadow Cat clan members—and Juth—one by one.
Juth does not recall any other outcasts, but he does not dismiss the possibility that another could have hidden themselves and survived. There were always others, he says, that had left their small clan and never returned. But at the same time, he does not think it is possible that they would find the fruit cave and eat all of its contents. “Even Pak and I could not fill our bellies with bags full of unripe fruit, no matter how hungry we were. And there would be rinds somewhere, surely?”
He is right. But according to A’tar, there was no sign of any such thing.
D’see and O’jek, however, have different ideas.
“So my old master had gardens,” D’see says, her expression eager as she stirs a watery-looking pouch over their fire. “And those gardens had a lot of maintenance bots.”
“Baahts,” I echo. I have never heard of such a thing. “What are baahts?”
“Bots are technology. Independent machines that handle the maintenance of such things. My master had bots that would prune his flowers, or add fertilizer to something that needed a bit more attention. Weeding. Spraying for insects. Things like that.” She raises her spoon in the air. “They would fly around or crawl between the plants, depending on the type of bots. There could be some in the cave that are on the fritz. Maybe they had some sort of program boot up that is making them strip the plants of the fruit, thinking they’re doing the right thing. And I saw a maintenance door when I fell down inside the fruit cave.”