Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
He always knows what to say to make me feel better. I burrow against him, clinging to his big strong body. He might not want to change anything, but I do wish I wasn’t such a coward.
“Hold still,” he tells me after a moment, and I feel his hands go around my waist. He pulls at the wide leather belt I wear and tugs it off. Surviving on the ice planet (for humans, anyhow) is all about layers, and I tend to wear several furs and then belt them tightly around my waist, going over it twice. That way the furs catch no wind and don’t let a cold breeze in.
He takes my belt and ties my waist to his, cinching the length of leather through the bone circle so we are roped together. Pashov takes my hand and puts it on his shoulder. “Arms around my neck and hold me tightly.”
“What are we doing—”
“You are holding on to me,” he says. “And I am going to get us both down.”
But he’s already got Pacy. I’m going to be a dead weight on his front, and that’s going to make it hard for him to climb. “Pashov, I don’t know—”
“I do. Hold on to me,” he says, and hitches me up a few feet off the ground, so now my feet are dangling.
I give a little whimper of fear and cling to his neck. He’s not leaving me with much choice.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
“Pashov!” I cry out when I feel his body shift. “I’m scared!”
“Do not open your eyes, then,” he tells me. “I have you.”
“Don’t let me fall!”
“Never. Trust in me, Stay-see.” I feel his big body flex as he moves. Oh god. Is he climbing down already? I fling my legs around his waist and cling to him with all my might. I try to focus on everything but the fact that I can feel his body sway, or that I can feel him grunt with exertion. That I can feel the muscles in his arms straining. Pacy babbles happily to himself, the burbling nonsense syllables sounding loud and uneven as they echo off the canyon walls.
Then…Pashov’s body thumps hard, and I feel the impact of it move through my body as well. I swallow a nervous little scream.
He pats my back. “We are down, my mate.”
“W-we are?” My eyes are still tightly squeezed shut.
“Yes. You can stand on your own now.” To his credit, he sounds very patient and not annoyed with me at all. I dare to open one eye and glance around. I see nothing but ice and shadow, and I look down. Sure enough, Pashov’s big furry boots are planted firmly on the snow. I slide one leg down off of him and feel solid ground beneath my feet.
I burst into tears.
“Come now,” my mate soothes, cupping my face. “It is not so bad as that, is it?”
“I’m just relieved,” I tell him between tears. All the frantic, nervous energy being sapped right out of me through my tear ducts. I feel drained. I rest my face against his chest, sniffling. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
“You are not a mess. We all have fears.”
I want to ask what he’s afraid of, but I know the answer. I think of his nightmares, always about cave-ins. Well, that particular fear is justified. I can’t blame him for that.
His hands slide to my butt, and he cups it. “Besides,” he teases. “I got to enjoy your legs around my waist, and now I get to put my hands on this round bottom of yours.” He pats it, teasing. “No tail. So strange.”
I hold my breath. That…that’s our old joke. He always grabs my butt and makes cracks about my lack of a tail. I wait, hoping he’s going to say something else. That he’ll remember more.
But he just gives my butt one final pat. “Come. Let us get to the new home-place and see what your howse will look like.”
My house. Not his. Not ours. Mine.
I don’t know what to think. Man, talk about mixed signals.
PASHOV
This place is nothing like I had imagined. I have lived my entire life in the sheltering walls of the tribal cave, and even though I have been told what this vee-lage should look like, my mind pictured it differently. I could not envision a place where so much stone is so neatly set together. The stone under our feet locks together like fat fingers, dusted by snow. It feels hard on the boots, and I wonder why anyone would set stone in the ground like this with such regularity.
“Cobblestones,” Stay-see murmurs as she comes to my side. “Nice.”
Is it? It feels strange under my feet. “What are they for?”
“Um?” Stay-see gives me a strange look. “To make roads. Floors. To keep the ground even. So it doesn’t get slushy or muddy. And it’s good for wheels.” She nudges me. “I don’t think you guys are up to wheels yet.”