I have plenty and I won't run out anytime soon. He made sure I was well set-up before he left. I slide my hand between my thighs, where my pussy's still slightly sore from the pounding it got earlier. He took me hard and rough, and I came so damn fast and good. I sigh. Now I have to go two days without sex.
Two days without Kas.
This is garbage already.
"It's a practice run for when you're on the farm planet and I'm out adventuring," he'd told me with a grin as he'd prepared to go.
"No sweat," I told him. "You'll be back before I even notice you're gone."
He'd checked his data pad one more time before shoving it into his pocket, gave me one last kiss, and then headed down the rope ladder.
Yep. Having so much fun being alone. I spin in the chair again, just because.
By mid-afternoon, I tell myself to stop moping. I allow myself a good cry—just one!—and then I get busy cleaning things.
Except I don't really clean things. I head up to bed and take a nap instead. A big, ugly, depressed nap. When I wake up, I'm still alone, and I feel…really fucking sad. And lonely.
This does not bode well for my time on the farm planet.
I'm mad at myself, too. When did I become this needy person? It's not the survival part that's bothering me. It's the lack-of-Kaspar part that's really making me crazy. I miss hearing his voice. I miss talking to him. I miss his laughter and his strong hands and his constant commentary.
I miss him more than I miss Jade and Helen and Ruth, and that feels disloyal. But Kas has been such a constant, reassuring presence for the last few months. We've been around each other all day and all night and instead of growing tired of one another, I've come to love it. Maybe it's because I've lost so many people already that I'm becoming clingy and needy with those I have left.
Whatever it is, I don't like it, and I don't like Kas being gone.
I don't catch up on my sewing that night. I don't scrub the mildew from the lavatory. Instead, I just crawl into the bed and breathe deep, trying to catch his scent like some sort of teenage girl with a killer crush. Sterre joins me. It's like she knows I'm sad and mopey and is trying to help. Instead of letting me pet her, she puts a paw over my shoulder and sets about to grooming me, licking every inch of my arm and leg and the side of my face.
If she could talk, she'd probably be telling me to get ahold of myself. That I need to be strong and self-reliant. But this is more than just me being alone. It's more than loneliness or worrying if Kas is safe or if he's taking care of himself.
It's a glimpse of my future…and I'm not sure I like it.
Morning finally comes, and Sterre drops another dead parrot-thing at the foot of the bed.
I yelp when the thing's wing smacks against my bare foot, and then I have to spend a few minutes soothing Sterre's possibly wounded feelings, telling her what a wonderful huntress she is and how happy I am that she's feeding me. Not that she's complained, but she's smart, and I don't want her to feel unappreciated.
The dead bird gives me something to do at least. I grab it and an empty bag from one of the food containers and move to the entrance of the ship. The day is going to be stiflingly hot, and the “house” already feels a bit like an oven. In front of the door, there's a breeze, and it'll let me watch for Kaspar. I park there, plucking feathers off of the world's ugliest and brightest parrot and storing them in the bag. I'm not sure what I'll use them for just yet, but I'm quickly learning you don't throw anything away in a survival situation.
I work and try not to glance down at the forest floor below too often, but I suspect I do. If everything goes well, Kaspar will be home later tonight. He said he could move faster without me, and it wouldn't be that far to travel, so I'm hoping for the best. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't come home tonight.
Or…ever.
"All right, now I'm depressing myself, Sterre," I mutter as I grab a few more feathers. "He's coming back. Any minute now."
Sterre just yawns, like she's tired of my shit already.
I glance down at the forest floor below again, just to check if he's there. It's habit at this point, habit and hope.
To my surprise and pleasure, I see one of the bushes on the horizon moving in a way that doesn't match the gentle breeze. I stare at it harder, and sure enough, a solitary figure appears in the distance.