Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
His tail gives a hard, hard thump. "I wouldn't know, no."
Oh man, I am having way too much fun needling him, but it's making my khui respond. The humming in my chest is getting agitated. The last thing I want is for Valmir to think he's going to score, so I change the subject before things go too far. "Do you remember anything about where you came from? Or who 'Valmir' was?"
His eyes narrow. "Why? What have you heard?"
Okay, that's not the response I expected. "Nothing, you big kolohe. That's why I'm asking." The word pings in my translator as unknown, but I know it. It comes to mind so naturally to me. It means 'naughty one'. How does the translator not know this?
Valmir's mouth gradually flattens as I speak, but when he responds, he shrugs as if he's unbothered. "I was a gladiator. I cannot speak to much more than that."
Maybe I'm not the only one with a faulty memory. "You know how to cook," I point out. He's been carefully rotating the fish over the fire so one side doesn't char. "That's something."
"I learned when we got here. Gail took me aside and told me I would need to learn how to prepare food as well as how to catch it. I appreciated the instruction. Her rules made it easy to learn." Valmir glances up at me again. "Did you notice that every time I ask you about yourself, you try to turn the conversation back onto me?"
His observation surprises me. Have I been doing that? It's something I've noticed when I'm with the others — if I can keep the conversation flowing, no one notices that I'm not volunteering much about myself. "I don't want anyone to see me as a liability," I say slowly, considering my words carefully. "I don't want them to think of me as a burden. So I make sure that the April I show them is an April they want to be around and that's good to take along."
"Even if it's a lie?"
"Even if it's a lie. And I'll gut you with my knife if you tell anyone I said that."
He huffs, the sound faintly amused. "No, you won't."
Okay, I probably won't, but I shrug. "I think I'll be more comfortable in a few months when a bit more pieces of who I was float back to me. Like Makana's name. It means 'gift' in my language. But I still don't know what the language was."
"So a warm place with its own language. That's not nothing. You'll remember more soon. Is April your real name?"
"A piece of it but not all of it. It's for the month I was born in, rather than having a deeper meaning." I can sense that much, at least. It doesn't feel like a different language like Makana's name does. "What about Valmir?"
"It means nothing I'm aware of, and you're doing it again." He turns the fish over carefully, and I catch a glimpse of fang as he smiles.
"So I am." I laugh. "Busted. If I remember more of my past, you'll be the first person I tell, deal?"
He nods as if this is a great gift. "So do you fish, if you do not hunt?"
"I know how. The water here is awfully cold, though. I keep thinking it'll be warmer, and I'm always surprised."
"Warm waters where you were from, then," he continues. "And fishing. And animals."
"You know that describes most of planet Earth?"
"Does it?" He seems surprised. "No wonder everyone goes on about how bad the weather is here. Jason will not stop complaining about the cold."
Do the others hate it here? I don't like the cold, but this planet is wild and open and untamed. It hasn't been ruined by cities and pollution. If I take ten steps out of camp, I'll see wildlife. Nature is everywhere, the air crisp, the planet thriving despite the chilly weather. Other than the chill, I actually really like it. It feels like I'm meant to be here, to be closer to nature, to live in harmony with the land and its caretakers.
Now, the khui? This, I am not a fan of.
But even admitting that to myself feels like misdirection. I don't like Valmir and he's not who I'd choose for myself, but I hate him less with each passing hour. He's smart, he's skilled at hunting and fishing, and he doesn't judge my quirks. When he's not being an absolute jerk, I enjoy talking to him.
This is probably how resonance works, I'm realizing. It just beats you down until the person you're attached to doesn't seem nearly as dire as resisting, and you eventually just get it over with. Ugh. My mood sours all over again and the hut falls quiet.
"Jason doesn't hunt," Valmir comments, lifting one piece of fish from the coals it’s propped over. He holds it by the end of the skewer and considers the meat, then offers it to me.