Barbarian Mine (Ice Planet Barbarians #4)(8)

A laugh escapes me, chasing my sadness away. “Not quite, Rukh. But I’m sucking at this language thing. Maybe I need to try something else.” I glance around at the cave but there’s nothing that could even be remotely used for fire. So I get to my feet and offer him my hand. “Come with me. Let’s go gathering.”



? ? ?





I’m still woefully lacking in a lot of survival skills, but one of the first things that the tribe insisted I learn was how to find fuel and how to make a fire. We go walking, with Rukh watching me curiously the entire time. I think he half expects me to run off on him, but that’s not part of the plan.

I don’t have anywhere to go.

Instead, I look for signs of dvisti, the shaggy, pony-like herd animals of this planet. They eat the wispy, ice-coated fauna of this place, and their dung is the staple of most fire pits since wood seems to be rare. I gather an armful and then bring it back to the cave with me, trying to teach words to Rukh as we walk. It’s a losing battle, but I try anyhow. Most of his attention seems to be fixed on figuring out what it is I’m doing.

Once we return to the cave, I clear out the center of the floor and make a pit, then line the edges with rocks. I pull out the cord I keep around my neck that I made for myself when I was first learning many of the basic skills for survival on this planet. Fire was number one, so I and a few of the other girls made necklaces with a bit of steel on them. It seemed someone had salvaged a few bits from the elders’ ship, thinking they were interesting. We humans quickly cannibalized them and I kept one circuit-looking square tied to a thong on my neck. Now I just needed a striking rock, which this planet had a lot of, and some tinder.

A bit of fluff from the inside of my boot and a dry, torn-up bit of dung provided the tinder, and I began to try and make a spark. It took me a few bangs of the rock, but a few minutes later, I had a smoky coal. I blew on it and then fed the flaming tinder to my pile of dung chips, adding more fluff to make it burn.

The lick of warmth was immediately gratifying. I sighed with relief when the flames caught and began to burn strongly, and I put my hands out over it. “Fire,” I told Rukh.

“Fire,” he echoed, and I realized he was speaking in his language. I’d spoken in English unthinkingly.

“You remember fire?” I point at it.

He nods. “Fire.”

I smile at him. “Harlow needs fire.” I mock-shivered. “Too cold otherwise.”

His brows draw together, and then he nods slowly. “Harlow fire.” His warm hand touches mine. Oh God, he’s really, really warm. I pull away, even though the only thing I want to do is keep touching him.

My traitorous cootie? It purrs loudly.




RUKH



Har-loh fascinates me. She feeds animal scat to the licking flames – the fire – and holds her hand over it. I realize what she was trying to communicate to me.

She’s cold. Her strange, five-fingered hands are small and don’t hold heat. She shivers even in the furs she wears. Her body isn’t like mine, impervious to the weather. She’s affected by it, and as the suns go down and the air grows colder, she moves closer and closer to the fire.

I realize how inadequate my small cave is to make her comfortable. I chose this one simply because it was near to where she and the bad ones were staying. It’s not home – I have no home. I simply stay in a place for a time, and then move on. There are better caves, though. Some are warmer, with pockets of hot melted snow in them. She would like that, I think, as she drinks from my water skin and shivers at the chill of the snow-water.

She is fragile, my Har-loh. I must make sure I take good care of her. The thrumming in my chest demands it.

I feel strange around her. Possessive. I’ve seen the bad ones and have never felt about them the way I do about this strange, flat-faced female. There’s something about her that gnaws at me, that makes me want to spend every moment with her in the cave, watching her. To feed her from my hand and to go out and collect all the dung I can find so she can have the fire she so desperately needs.

I killed a creature for her earlier and brought the meat back to her. She ate it, but it was clear she was not pleased. I need to find what pleases her.

She yawns, and the motion is delicate and feminine, her small hand going to her mouth. “Tmrrohweneedhabigkilltewskinfrblankits.” She rambles sounds when she needs to communicate, and I watch her small mouth work around the noises. I want to desperately know what she is saying, but I am ignorant.

It frustrates me.

Har-loh gives me a sleepy smile. “Wishewhaddapilloh.”

Even though her face is flat and her brow is not ridged in the slightest, she is utterly beautiful in that moment. I feel the urge to touch her, and I reach out and take her hand in mine. She has one more finger than I do, and they’re cold against mine. I can feel her startle but a moment later she relaxes and grips my hand back.

“Har-loh,” I say in a low voice. Her skin is so soft. I want to explore all of it, to see what lies underneath the heavy furs she insists on wearing. Her scent emanates in the cave and it makes my cock stir.

A shiver moves through her and she bites her lip. For a moment I think she’s cold, but then her chest vibrates hard, singing like mine is, and I realize she is feeling the same things I am.

Encouraged, my hand goes to my cock.