52. Ree

52

Ree

I walked away like a coward, the feelings too big, with a deep need to be away from him.

And yet I'm surrounded by his wild scent.

Orange fur of varying lengths, along with a few strands of bright green, puff into the air when I plop my butt down on the layered blankets.

My stomach is tight, pulling me forward, like it needs my shoulders as close as possible.

Instead of trying to mend what I broke, I left. I was overwhelmed, but part of me wished he had followed. Or insisted more.

But then he would go against what I said I needed. I groan and raise a shaking hand to my aching eyes.

I can't decide what I want, so how could he know?

I was very clear about not wanting to leave the river, though. My heart clenches when I picture the cryochamber hitting a rock and one of the women drowning. And then I'm angry instead of heartsick.

I know I was being unreasonable.

I still know it. Yet I don't see why he couldn't have spent a few minutes getting me to the top of a tree and then chased the chamber.

Then I picture a big red bullseye on his orange hide as he raced along the river and guilt replaces anger. He could have been shot going out the first time and I'm in here pissed off that a person he doesn't even know—hell, I don't even know—wasn't a priority for him.

I'm putting everyone I meet in danger. For the sake of women I don't know.

It isn't right.

And yet, what else am I supposed to do?

"Fuck. What have I even really done to help?"

Nothing.

Not a single woman is safe. Anyone but me would have been better at keeping them safe. They needed a different champion.

They still do.

I move my tight grip from my arms to my knees, pulling them against my chest. It reminds me of Szhe'ka.

Is he dead? Kuret too? Why don't I feel driven to protect them?

What if I get Thivoll killed?

Another sob rises. I need Silver with me. I close my eyes to picture her face but only get a fuzzy image of her and a sharp one of a cryochamber.

That's fucked up.

My eyes pop back open and go back to staring at the dimly lit walls. Why couldn't that stupid snake alien have simply stayed with us?

He left a message, so it's not like he thought we couldn't communicate.

"Motherfucker."

I yelp when multiple scores of pain drag me out of my mental spiral.

There's blood soaking down the outside of both knees. I guess it's a bad idea to imagine hurting random aliens while digging your fingers into your legs.

Well, if you happen to be a fucking alien experiment.

"Why do I smell blood?" Thivoll's gravely voice inquires.

I groan.

Of course I couldn't hide it. "Poor hand placement and claw control."

"We've all done that."

Part of me wants to laugh, but there's too much disbelief stuck in my throat.

Maybe all of his species has, but not mine.

That thought sends ice racing along my skin. How have I not realized this yet?

I'm not human. Not really.

I'm going to have to relearn my body or I'm going to keep hurting myself. And others.

I'm going to have to help a bunch of women as they make similar transitions, though who knows what their specific burdens will be. Finding them and keeping them safe feels impossible and it's just the first step to what I need to do.

I don't even know how to figure out my own changes.

That thought makes me realize the ache at the roof of my mouth is probably another incoming metamorphosis.

Fuck.

I don't want another change in my life.

My heart's pounding and my head's spinning just thinking about all that needs to be done. All the things I can't control.

I don't even notice Thivoll's in front of me until he speaks.

"Being in here isn't helping you."

I'm not sure what to say, so I just shake my head.

"I can't cage you. I tried to convince myself I could, but it wouldn't be right. There's still plenty of night left. Would you like some fresh air?"

I clear my throat to remove all the gunk tears and panic left in it.

"Yes."

We walk side by side to the cave exit and I take a deep breath. I appreciate the olive branch and I want to meet him halfway.

There's no actual need to go out into the night.

"I could just get fresh air here."

"Alright."

He sits back on his haunches and looks out. From the way he's scanning, I can tell he can detect details I could never pick out. All I see are the moonlit tops of trees.

Even those are vague.

I don't know what to say to him, so I just sit down, cross my legs and soak in the night. The calls of nocturnal animals and the cacophony of bugs is muted from up here, but still plenty loud.

More stars than anyone could ever imagine dot the sky.

This is what it must have been like back before we polluted Earth. I never thought much of only being able to see a few stars.

Looking out now it strikes me just how unnatural it was.

Safer. But not natural.

Thivoll's breathy whistle pulls me out of my musing. When he does it a second time I know he must have picked up on a smell he doesn't like.

"What is it?"

"There's a prey male upwind from here. He must be close."

I hum back in lieu of reply.

"You don't want to go talk with them?" he asks me.

"We must have passed a bunch of them earlier tonight. Why would this one be worth seeking out?"

He huffs. "Why not?"

"I don't know, Thivoll. It's starting to feel wrong to ask people to risk their lives for a bunch of women they don't even know."

"Is that what's been hurting your heart?"

"Partly. That and not feeling like I'm helping. And, well, because I've been risking you, too."

"Have you forced anyone?"

"No," I say, drawing it out.

I know where he's going with that question, of course, but it doesn't seem so simple.

"You haven't asked anyone to risk themselves. Just being here is a risk. One you didn't cause."

"But what if they—"

I don't get to finish.

"Stop. If they didn't want to help, they wouldn't. If I didn't want to help, I wouldn't. You can't be responsible for everyone, Ree. Let each of us be responsible for ourselves."

"You mean the women, too?"

"No, I think that is a situation where our help is needed. None of you are equipped to survive here."

I clamp down on the protest that tries to bubble up about him leaving the woman to float down the river.

Instead, I make myself listen.

To make connections. To think through my actions instead of continually repeating them. For once those impulses won't just lead to low sleep and money.

They might kill me or someone around me.

I've had a version of this conversation hundreds of times.

With my parents. As part of goodbyes from lovers, explaining why they couldn't stay with me. With friends.

The most recent person in my life to point out that I can't solve everyone's problems at my expense was Tamina. In almost every situation, it was said with care and love.

I ignored them.

The suffering in the world is great and the people willing to help with it are so few. Except . . . is that really true?

Now that I think about it, that sounds really self-important.

Damn.

What's the answer then? Just focus on what's in front of me? I don't know.

"I'm not sure I can send someone else out to risk themselves," I tell him. "Not tonight."

"Well, then how about we go looking for them and instead ask them to stay?"

I turn to him in surprise. "I didn't think you wanted to let anyone know where our cave was."

"At some point we need to trust someone. It's getting more dangerous. I'm not sure I'll be enough to protect you. And at some point I need to go track down the purple woman."

I realize with a start that he means the one from the river. "It was Amethyst?"

He nods.

"You would still go search for her?"

"Of course I will, Ree. I just need you safe when I do it. I know I overreacted before but—"

It's me who cuts him off this time. "No. I wasn't being rational. I've been struggling since . . . well, since they took me."

I'm trembling again.

I wipe away another tear and try to get myself under control. I'm sick of crying tonight.

There's a light pressure on my knee and I look down to see Thivoll's long, black scaled fingers tentatively touching me. Just the very tip, clearly poised to be snatched back if I don't like it.

I reach forward and grip his hand tight, my smaller hand no longer contrasting with his now that it's covered in the same black scales.

So strange, but it feels right somehow. And then I realize that all I have to do is pivot my hand and my white palm shows through.

I still have the same core.

Huh.

I can still help people, but maybe it's time I took a cue from my own shifting biology.

Maybe it's time to make sure I protect myself, too.