EIGHT

- sedona -

Kuvier is…something.

I don't know exactly what yet, but he's something. So far, he's proven to be generous; he's given me the literal clothes off his back. He's been protective, refusing to let me walk in the snow with my terrible footwear. He's fed me, given me water, and now he's fixing the mess of a shelter I constructed.

But, he's also proven to be very interested in me. I'm no virgin, so I can tell what the looks he throws my way mean and I've caught a tent in his pants more than once. At the same time, he's done absolutely nothing inappropriate. Everything he has done, besides the koala hug, has felt like it was done for my well-being.

Now, granted, he has found every reason to give me light touches. Brushes of the hand when he passes things to me, patting my head as he passes, trailing his fingers up my arms when he sits near me. But, again, nothing too concerning.

A little crush when it comes with a lot of help is something I can honestly handle. It's not like it's a feat to be fawned over. I've done absolutely nothing since he came. That's not from my lack of trying, but every time I'd try to indicate with mimes and words that I wanted to help, he would tell me no in that gravelly voice of his.

That was a word he picked up quickly, along with ‘hungry.' I'd said both when he'd first offered me food because I'd been worried about it agreeing with me.

"No hungry."

I'd repeated it several times, but his growl of displeasure had been enough to encourage me to eat. It had also done some unexpected things to my insides, but I was choosing to pretend that didn't happen.

I've picked up a few words of my own. I now know that the dried meat is "off-tee," and the flatbread he gave me with it is called "mala." Both of them turned out to be surprisingly good. The meat is strange—dried, chewy, with a taste that's hard to describe—but it is oddly tender. The spices are a little stronger than I am used to, and the flavor profile is woodsy and gamey, somewhere between the taste of deer and bison. The bread has a slightly sweet and nutty taste. Overall, it was rather yummy.

One bad thing about having nothing to do is that it gives me the time to think about the others. I can't help but second-guess if I'm making the right choice. Now that I am not freezing, starving, and alone, I start to wonder if it's right to leave the others in their pods.

But at the same time, how much help can Kuvier provide? Yes, he can help us survive on this planet, but I know everyone is going to be looking to find a way off of this planet. Between the Stone Age tools and the trashed ship tech, I don't see that happening. Plus, Kuvier is one person, how could I expect him to provide for eight women alone?

Plus, I have a feeling that once they wake up, coming to terms with the fact that this is where we've ended up won't be easy and I don't think it's a reversible decision either. I highly doubt the remaining tech in the pods and crate can sustain someone going back under stasis safely. So, I'd be essentially making a life altering decision for all of them. It's a lot to consider, and it's overwhelming to think about for one person.

I heave a sigh and try to push my thoughts away. Instead, I turn my eyes to Kuvier. He's moving about with purpose, efficient and deliberate, sinewy muscles flexing under the strain of his work. In the time since he had me sit down, he's already made improvements to everything. He pulled down whatever contraption I'd built over the door. The awning he's put up instead hangs over the doorway of the crate, flapping lightly in the wind. It's the perfect cover for the large fire pit he's working to build out of natural stones he'd found on one of his many short trips outside.

He disappears for just a few minutes at a time, as if he doesn't want to leave me alone for long. He always comes back with something new in his hand, and always makes a stop with me to see if I need anything. He'll ask me, "Hungry? Water? Cold?" The words he'd focused the hardest on learning. Well, other than my name.

I watch Kuvier closely, noting how his strong, clawed hands move deftly to arrange the kindling within the circle of stones. He uses a reed-like straw that's bright red in color as kindling, and I can't help but wonder if whatever plant those come from is why so many things are red around here. When he finally lights the fire, a warm glow fills the space, casting comforting shadows on the crate's walls.

As another sun sets, we're officially down to the last one, and I feel a twinge of anxiety. This is only my second night on this planet. The first was uneventful, but there's another person to contend with now. I wonder how Kuvier will act under the guise of darkness. Will he try anything?

But, after a quiet dinner, Kuvier surprises me. He moves around me, a bundle of furs in his hand. He takes his time setting up a comfortable space close to the pods. He gestures for me, and I realize that he wants me to lie down. I also note that he's only built a space for one. He gives me an encouraging smile, so I stand and move over to the bedding space. Lying down on it, I'm amazed to feel it's actually rather padded and soft. He takes the cloak and blanket from me. Once I lay back, he drapes them both over me and I am instantly warm and cozy.

With another tender look, he asks, "Hungry?"

I shake my head and say, for good measure, "No, I'm not hungry, I'm not thirsty for water, and I'm not cold. I'm warm." I wiggle in my space to show him I'm content. Satisfied, he gives a grunt and then he moves to sit by the fire, his back to me, clearly intending to keep watch.

I lie there, wrapped in the furs he's provided, feeling their warmth seep into my bones. They have an earthy smell that is distinctly him. It's an odd mix of what smells like rosemary and pine, and it's weirdly comforting. Kuvier's figure is a silhouette against the fire and the dim setting light, the broad slope of his back a reassuring sight. He seems to take his self-appointed role as protector very seriously.

Despite the strangeness of our situation, there's something about Kuvier that makes me feel secure. I shouldn't feel as safe as I do, not after everything that's happened, but his presence has a calming effect. It's like an unspoken assurance that things will be okay. Maybe it's the way he looks at me with those deep, expressive eyes, or the gentle touch of his hands when he helps me with simple tasks. Whatever it is, it's enough to let me close my eyes and drift off to sleep.