Page 31 of Theirs to Crave
I inhaled, nuzzling the pillows sleepily. It wasn’t lavender, but whatever they filled these cushions with smelled fantastic. Spicy and earthy, like cardamom and something else. Hay? No, sweetgrass. After a month of eau de unwashed bodies, fear sweat, and shit, I couldn’t get enough.
“Estrella?” Cass whispered.
I twisted my face to the side, squinting at her through the tangle of my hair.
“Did I wake you?”
“No,” I said through a yawn. “What’s up?”
“Oh, good,” she replied, distantly.
I had the feeling I could have said, “Yes, you woke me. I was dreaming about making out with Tom the cartoon cat while Walter Mercado chased Jerry around, flapping his sequined cape,” and her reaction would have been the same.
She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, but the look on her face said she wasn’t seeing anything. My eyes had begun to drift closed again when she finally said, “We’re not going home, are we?”
My sleepiness fled. I swallowed, trying to force down the fist clenched in my throat so I could breathe. “I don’t think so.”
She caught her breath on a sob and nodded woodenly. Our hands met and held.
There was a soft curse and a rustle, then Ria’s arm snaked over from Cass’s other side. She found our joined hands and spanned them both with her callused fingers.
“Scoot over,” Mariano muttered from behind me.
“I’m coming in too,” said Shane.
In moments, we were all cuddled together. Silently, the Quoosalk crawled on top of the puppy pile, laying over us like weighted blankets. No one spoke. I sniffled. Then I sobbed, each tear raw and bitter. We clung to each other, our shared grief pouring out with every shaking gasp.
After what felt like a lifetime, I ran out of tears. I floated in a haze as my frantic, ragged breaths slowly evened out. One by one, we all fell silent. My head felt swollen and hot, my body heavy. That strange almost-numbness that comes before the blood rushes back into a limb that’s gone to sleep.
“I have to pee,” Ria announced.
I snorted a surprised laugh, then groaned and squeezed my thighs together. “Mierda, me too.”
“Me three,” came Shane’s raspy voice. He cleared his throat and said with customer service brightness, “Time to greet the day, everyone! Let’s see what kind of bathrooms they’ve got on this planet.”
Mariano grumbled, and the normalcy of it settled something panicky in my chest.
“Bright morning, Abuele,” I murmured, offering Yin a hand. I liked the Quoosalk version of “good morning”. On the ship, it had been hard to claim any morning as “good”, but “bright” was a guarantee. Now, it felt like it fit. A new phrase for a new life.
Yin took my hand, although xe didn’t put any weight on it as xe rose and patted my fingers. “Bright morning, Estrella.” Xe was looking better, as were the other Quoosalk. Their coloring was brighter, although I’d noticed some rough patches that worried me. But Yin’s eyes were dull, and xe spoke rarely. Most of xem was still at the crashed ship, with Ilya.
Therry’s eyes met mine, and I saw my worry reflected in their silvery depths before xe turned away and wrapped an arm around Yin.
I ran my fingers over the soft, nubby texture of the cloth Zafett had given me. I’d used it as a blanket last night. It hadn’t beencold, but I hadn’t wanted to let it go, like a toddler with their favorite teddy. It was a little embarrassing, how attached I was to it. I’d actually gotten jealous when I saw he’d given cloths to the others as well.
The morning light showed it to be a soft turquoise color with a woven border of salmon pink. Not really my colors. If I’d been picking in a shop, I’d have gone for the brick red one Cass got. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I chewed on my lip, holding it out. Should be long enough.
It was. It wrapped neatly around my hips with enough left over to tie it sarong-style, and I instantly felt more comfortable. Didn’t look too bad, I thought, twisting to look myself over. Better than the pants it reminded me of, anyway. And now I could sit without getting dirt where dirt should never go.
“Anybody know how to fold one of these into something...less skirt like?” Ria asked, holding up her cloth. The expression on her face said she didn’t hold out a lot of hope in that direction.
“I can do a couple types of tops,” Cass offered. “But turning it into jeans is beyond me.”
“Figures.”
Cass laughed, the sound cutting off with a hiss as she brought her face back to neutral. She’d closed her eyes, and when she opened them to find us all watching her with concern, she gave us a tiny, reassuring smile. “I’m okay, guys. The ointment Zafett used seems to be helping.”
“I’m glad,” Shane said, but the muscles in his jaw were tight. If he’d been able to, I think he would have resurrected Logan just so he could kill him himself.