“It’s a line from a human play called MacBeth.” The sweet morning breeze lifted her hair, blowing a few strands into her eyes, and impatiently she pushed her hair back. “It means ‘Let’s go already.’”
His glowing gaze was still puzzled but he jerked his chin toward her again then led the way, she behind him. He walked his clan’s land with the easy confidence of one well accustomed to life outdoors on Hir, his g’hir physiology giving him a smooth, catlike gait despite his size.
The stream Ke’lar led her to was heavily shaded, the water moving placidly between the rocky banks. The water wasn’t deep, maybe three or four feet at the center, the kind of creek that growing up back in Brittle Bridge she and her friends might have splashed in to escape the heat of July.
She might even have taken it for a creek back home, with the sunlight dappling across the water, except that ursh trees, their limbs heavy with fernlike gray-green leaves, overhung the banks on either side and a bright nuaran bird that hopped on one of those branches, its glowing eyes darting her way before it flew away, belied any resemblance to North Carolina—or Earth for that matter.
Ke’lar stopped and held up his hand in silent order for her to pause. His body was tense, his hand at the blaster he wore on his hip. He shifted his weight, pivoting as his glowing gaze swept the area. He took a few quick sniffs.
Her glance darted about; she couldn’t detect any but themselves here but his senses were far keener than hers.
“This place is secure,” he confirmed. “We are alone.” He gave another light sniff. “There have been no others save myself here for weeks.”
“Weeks?” Summer muttered. “Jeez, what a nose.” She indicated the creek water. “Is it safe to drink?”
“It is safe to rinse your mouth with,” he cautioned. “I have filtered the water we will drink.” He handed over the sack. “Here. There is cleanser and a cloth for your face, other things for your comfort.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the bag and hoping he would give her at least a little privacy.
“I will be back in a few minutes,” he said. “Call out if you have need of me.”
He left then, apparently confident she wouldn’t fall in and drown in the creek if he took his eyes off her for a second.
Not wanting to get her clothes wet or ruin her new boots, Summer was careful to kneel where the bank was dry but she could still reach the water. She cleaned her teeth and used a corner of the cloth to clean her face so she wouldn’t get her shirt soaked either.
She groomed herself as best she could and was already heading back toward the camp, the bag swung over her shoulder, making another half-hearted attempt at getting the knots out of her hair with her fingers as she walked, when he returned.
“Always does this without a load of conditioner,” she said with a self-conscious laugh and gave up. “I’m probably just making it worse.”
“The fault is mine.” He held up an intricately carved wooden comb, his grip on it gentle, almost cradling. “I meant to include it in your pack.”
“Wow.” It was hand carved, the wood a natural deep, vibrant red, the decoration lovely even in its alienness. “It’s beautiful. It looks more like art than something you use on your hair.”
“It was my mother’s.” Ke’lar held it out to her. “I gift it to you and hope it will serve to make you feel welcome on Erah lands.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed. “Well, thanks. It’s such a rat’s nest, I’m probably just going to wind up tearing half my hair out.”
She reached for the comb but before her fingers closed around it he moved with a smooth g’hir quickness, taking up position behind her.
“It is not as bad as you say,” he assured her, his body warm at her back as he took the strands between his fingers.
He deftly worked at the knots out, his alien dexterity allowing him to untangle them without so much as a tug.
“You are fair enough to be born of the Yir clan,” he rumbled, his voice like soft thunder in her ear. “Some of them have hair this bright.”
“I uh—” She cleared her throat. The brush of his fingers over the nape of her neck sent tingles running through her body. His gentle coaxing had some of the strands tamed already, the comb and his fingers sliding through her hair. “I didn’t know g’hir could be blond. I’ve only seen the Betari clan.” She looked back at Ke’lar. His hair was so dark it reflected blue in the sunlight. “And you.”
He blinked and paused in his task. “The Betari did not let you see any not of their clan? How is that possible? You should have been taken to the medical center at Be’lyn City, at the very least, for a health evaluation.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” she said shortly, facing away again. “Ar’ar kidnapped me, he imprisoned me at the enclosure, and Mirak made it clear I’d never leave it again.”
“I am sorry, Summer.” His hand smoothed her hair, his touch soothing, his rumble soft in her ear. “It was not supposed to be this way.”
“Really?” she asked, her throat tight. “How was it supposed to be then?”