Sterre moves next to me, shoving her big body in front of my view, her tail flicking wildly.
"Hey, hey, hey," I protest, pushing her back. "Come on, now. Let me take a look at my man."
She doesn't move, though. Instead, she growls low in her throat, and her head lowers.
I blow out a breath, frustrated. This wouldn't be the first time that Sterre hasn't been keen on Kaspar's scent. One time he washed up and she snarled at him, so we quickly covered him in my scent. She's gotten better, though, or so I thought. Then again, Kas has been away for an entire day. Perhaps carinoux have short memories.
I watch as the figure picks his way closer to the stream. His skin is blue, all right, but it's a muted shade instead of his normal brilliant color. I think of the muggy weather and the rain that poured in last night and grimace. Poor Kas is probably head to toe mud. It's another reason why Sterre doesn't have his scent.
"Be careful coming up," I call out. "Sterre's in a mood."
His head lifts, but there's no answering call. I wave a hand, only to watch the figure disappear back into the woods…in the opposite direction of our craft.
Goosebumps prick my arms and I wait for Kas to appear again.
He doesn't. Long moments pass and I scan the paths below, watching for my guy's familiar horns and his cocky swagger. Still nothing. Sterre growls again, her tail lashing so hard that she smacks my skin with it, hard.
Was…was that not Kaspar?
Who was it if not him?
Suddenly freaked out, I move to the edge of the door and pull the rope ladder up. Then, I sit back, hug Sterre's big protective body, and watch below.
52
KASPAR
I've never run so fast in my life.
It's not that I'm in any particular kind of hurry, other than the fact that my female is alone in the wilderness and I want to be there by her side. I'm sure Alice is fine—she's far more capable than she gives herself credit for—but I'm having a keffing rotten time being away from her. I've slept under the stars plenty of times before on smuggling runs. I've had it rain on me and I've endured mud and bugs and everything this muggy little moon has to offer.
And yet it feels different this time. It's not as fun. It doesn't feel like an adventure to go racing off.
It feels a bit like a chore.
So I move swiftly and don't stop to admire the scenery. Instead, I think about Alice. My charmingly grumpy Sunshine, who wants to complain about everything but secretly enjoys herself. My smart, clever human who always makes me laugh and has a comment about everything. Who says she's not brave yet somehow manages to survive everything the universe throws at her and keeps her stubborn spirit intact.
She's the person I didn't know I needed, and exploring's no fun without her.
I get to our old escape pod faster than I thought I would. I almost charge directly inside, but I think about Alice, instead. What she would say.
Don't you want to check things first and make sure it's not occupied? Alice would lecture me. I can hear her voice in my ears, and the thought makes me grin. So I do what would make her happy—I crouch in the ferns and watch for a while, looking for movement of any kind. Noises. Strange smells. Anything. It's all quiet, and I avoid the sandy parts of the soil, remembering the bugs that thought my female was a tasty treat. I head into the pod cautiously, my homemade spear tight in hand.
It's empty.
At least, it is right now. Inside, though, there are muddy footprints from wide, unfamiliar-looking boots. I press my foot next to one of the footprints and compare. Shorter than mine, but too wide to be Alice's. Possibly praxiian or szzt.
That means there's raiders here on this planet, or corsairs, or something else. It means that they've discovered our pod and know we're around here somewhere. They know we've taken the supplies from the pod, which means we're alive and somewhere in these woods.
I don't like that one bit.
I touch one of the footprints but the mud is old and dry, so it can't tell me anything. Frustrated, I automatically check my data pad. Lung readings are normal, but the pad's screen is getting cloudy from weeks of humidity and it's going to run out of juice before long. I'm trying not to panic about that. I shove it back into my pocket and get to work, stripping everything I can from the pod. I work methodically and as quickly as possible. When the keffing comm unit wiring proves to be trickier than I wanted, I rip the entire thing out of the control panel rather than fuss with it.