"We will make do without you," Vektal says. "You may get your things from the hut you share with the other hunters, but then you are shunned. I am sorry to have to do this, but I hope you will learn your lesson."

This shunning seems a silly punishment. "And my mate?"

"She's not shunned," Shors.h.i.+e says in sweet voice. "She is more than welcome to stay unless she wants to go with you."

I look over at Ell-ee, hope in my eyes. I know it is early and we have only just resonated, but perhaps...

But no. She shrinks back, averting her gaze, and ignores me. Very well. She needs more time. I have waited many, many seasons for my mate. I can wait a few days longer. I devour the sight of her, unable to look away. "Who will take care of her?" My voice is hoa.r.s.e with need. "May I hunt for her?"

"If you like," Vektal says. "But if she wants you to leave her alone, you should."

"How long is this 'shunning' to last?" I ask, annoyed.

"Until you realize what it is you've done," Shors.h.i.+e says firmly. "And judging from your reaction, we've got a long way to go."

"Your shunning officially begins now," Vektal says, crossing his arms over his chest. "As of this moment, you do not exist to this tribe."

I snort. Somewhere off to one side, Harrec guffaws.

Vektal shoots him an angry look and then gestures to the others. "Come. Let us celebrate the new members of our tribe in the long-house."

I scan the faces of my tribesmates as they turn and leave. A few of the hunters-my friends-seem confused, but they follow the chief reluctantly. There is hurt and betrayal on Claire's expressive face as she holds little Erevair in her arms and turns to leave. The hurt on her face wounds me. She acts as if I have done something wrong. Does she not see I had no choice? "Claire," I begin.

She ignores me, walking a little closer to her mate.

"Ell-ee," I call out, hoping she will turn.

She does not.

I am well and truly shunned...and I do not know what to think.

7.

ELLY.

"He's still hanging around the d.a.m.n village," Tiffany says, shaking her head as she braids long strands of leather into a thick woven mat. "I don't think he grasps the concept of 'shunning.'"

"Oh, I think he does. He just doesn't care. Bek's stubborn like that." Claire works on the other end of the mat, pleating her strands.

We're all inside the long-house on this day, the weather nice and sunny. The leather roof of the building is rolled back so the potted plants Tiffany nurtures here can get some sunlight. A few of the pregnant women are talking to Brooke and Kate by the fire, and off to one side, Gail is making trail rations into cakes and letting little Lukti, Erevair, and Zalene help her. I can hear their laughter, and it makes me smile. Gail is so happy to have children around. She loves them and loves helping out.

Claire picks up another strand to weave into the rug and shrugs her shoulders. "You know Bek. I'm pretty sure part of the reason is to remind us that he's there, and part of it is because he doesn't know what to do with himself. And well, let's be honest-part of it is Elly."

From the corner of the room where I'm standing with a waterskin, I can feel my cheeks heating. It doesn't matter how many times Bek comes up in the conversation on a daily basis, my name is linked with his. It's a small tribe, Georgie has told me when she caught me looking embarra.s.sed. They gossip. And since we've resonated, we're everyone's favorite topic. New people would be fodder for months as it is. New people that resonated in such a fascinating way? I'm screwed if I think no one's going to be talking about it.

And Claire and Tiffany are both nice. They're calm, easy-going personalities-unlike the bossy Liz or the boisterous Maddie or endlessly chatting Josie-and they're fine with my silences. I fill my waterskin with warm water from the spring and go back to watering the little fruit trees. It's one of the few tasks I can do around here, and I'm happy to do it. The roots and soil are covered with thick dvisti hides, uncovered to be watered, and then covered again to protect them. I've watched Tiffany grab the pots and move them into the sunlight as the suns travel overhead and the shadows grow long, so I do that, too. It's a full-time job just taking care of these trees, but there are little buds of fruit growing on them and everyone's quite excited to have them to eat soon.

"You'll make Elly uncomfortable," Tiffany chides her with an apologetic glance over at me. "She knows he's coming around to see her. No reason to bring it up and make things awkward."

I give her a faint smile of thanks and move away to water the trees on the far side of the long-house, closer to Gail and the children. I don't know if I want to hear more of the conversation, just because Claire was good friends with Bek and likes to talk about him. Hearing his name makes me feel funny, like I can't decide if I want to run away screaming or if I want to squeeze in next to her so I can hear every gory detail. I know that Claire's his ex-girlfriend. I feel weird about that, too, even though it's clear that Claire's wildly in love with her sweet husband, Ereven.

It's been a week since the sa-kohtsk hunt, and everyone's still adjusting and finding their place. Kate and Liz connected well, and now Liz and her mate Raahosh are showing Kate how to hunt, because she wants to learn. Brooke tends to linger by the fire to hang out with whoever is there, and spends her time braiding hair and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g ends. It seems that Brooke was a hairdresser back on Earth and wants to save everyone's hair here. Most of the women are happy to let her beautify them, and I notice that she chats a lot with Stacy and Nora, who take over a lot of the cooking duties and are thus around the fire a lot as well. Gail watches many of the children and helps Ariana with cla.s.ses and teaching. Josie and Lila are teaching Summer how to sew, and their laughter can be heard in the small village often.

Everyone seems to be finding their spot except for me. Of course, that's not unexpected. I've set myself apart from the others. I still haven't bathed. I still haven't spoken, though I've wanted to a few times. I still wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.

I'm just...waiting for the other shoe to drop, I guess. I'm waiting for something to happen that will turn this place from a wintry paradise into another nightmare. Until I truly feel safe, I'm going to keep on as I am. If that means I don't have the friends that the other girls do or blend in like they do...it's just safer. I won't get hurt that way, not if I'm expecting bad things to happen. It's when you let your guard down that the awful comes.

"Look everyone, it's Miss Elly. Wave to Elly," Gail says cheerfully, and gives me a happy wave.

The three children seated in front of her wave also, their hands dirty with fat and seed mixture.

"We're making trail rations," Gail says. "It's important for everyone to know how to do it, isn't that right?"

Lukti, a quiet little boy with blue skin and a head full of tight curls, smiles at Gail and holds a cake out to her. "I made this one for you."

"Oh, I'm not hungry." She holds her hands up, smiling, and then nods at me. "But I bet Miss Elly's hungry. Why don't you ask her if she wants it?"

Lukti looks over at me shyly, and then scoots closer to Gail. "She doesn't talk," he says, worried.

"Elly smells bad," Zalene declares, patting her cakes laid out in front of her. "She's stinky."

The children giggle, and Gail just shakes her head. "Miss Elly can wash when she wants to, because she's a grown-up. She has her reasons, and it's not for us to be mean and say she's stinky. Apologize, Miss Zalene."

"I think Elly is nice," Erevair declares, and gets to his feet and runs over toward me. He holds out a sticky, mangled-looking patty of something that's supposed to be food. "I made this for you."

I take it awkwardly. My stomach growls, because I'm still not getting enough food. In the last week, huts have been set up for the humans, and I'm currently rooming with Gail. We've been given piles of supplies and some food for our hut, but I can't bring myself to eat it. I don't know who it's come from. I don't know if someone's slipped something awful into it. And I know that these people are nice and kind and won't do that, but I still can't bring myself to take a bite out of it.

So I only eat when there's a community stew, which means I get about one real meal a day. I'm ravenous all the time, and even the sight of this well-handled little cake is making my stomach churn with hunger and anxiety. I don't know what to do. I want to eat it...but my brain wars with my worries.

I hold it, frozen in place.

As if she can read my mind, Gail leans forward and takes another one of Erevair's cakes and nibbles on it. "Mmm, these are so good, Mr. Erevair! You have a gift, little man."

He beams at her, all pride, and I shove the cake into my mouth, chewing furiously. I'm so hungry.

Zalene looks at me funny. "Elly's weird," she declares a moment later.

"Is not," Erevair says, beaming at me. "She's Bek's mate, and that makes her great."

I choke on the mouthful of food.

"Bek's my friend," Erevair tells the others happily as he returns to his seat. "When he comes back to the tribe, he's going to show me how to hunt."

"Is he now," Gail murmurs, shooting me an apologetic look. "And Miss Zalene, we don't tell people that they're weird. It's not nice."

Zalene shrugs her little shoulders. "Mama says that Bek isn't nice. She says he's a tte de noeud. Mama says that means d.i.c.khead in her language."

A horrified laugh chokes out of Gail, though she tries to smother it. I press a hand to my mouth, silently laughing even as I chew. Bek is a d.i.c.khead? It fits. I decide I like Zalene's mama, even if her child is a little talky.

"Is Vaza your mate, Gail? Did you resonate to him?" Lukti asks, all innocence.

"Resonance is gross," Zalene declares. "My mama says that resonance makes you want to put your tongue in the other person's mouth. Yuck!"

"You don't need resonance to do that," Erevair tells them. "I saw Vaza do that to Gail yesterday."

Oh really, now? I know he's been coming around our hut, always with gifts in hand, but I hadn't seen that. I give Gail a surprised look.

Gail clears her throat. "You don't need resonance to kiss someone, no. And Miss Gail is far too old to resonate, because resonance wants babies, and I can't have anymore. But if Mr. Vaza wants to have a friend, I might be that friend." She gives me a coy little look and grins. "But he's gonna have to work for it." She primly adjusts the hem of her tunic, looking pleased with herself.

So Gail's encouraging Vaza's flirtations? I shouldn't be surprised. Vaza is like a puppy around Gail, eager to please and willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy. If she mentions that her pillow is flat, he makes her a new one. If she mentions a specific fur is soft, he brings her three more for her bed. He's constantly stopping by to talk to her, and I know she keeps him at arm's length, but I also know she isn't chasing him away.

I wonder what that means for me if they get together. Of course, it's stupid to think about that. Everyone a.s.sumes that I'm going to end up with Bek because we're resonating. The thought makes me uncomfortable and restless, and I finish watering the plants, then head out of the long-house. I need to be alone to clear my thoughts, catch my breath. The others are happy to be around company all day long, but it gets to be too much for me quickly, and I need fresh air. I could spend all day and all night just gazing up at the sky, out in the open, and so I take every opportunity I can to soak it in.

You never know when it'll be taken away from you again.

So I walk through the village, giving the friendly people that say h.e.l.lo to me a polite nod or two, but I don't go over to meet Georgie, or to greet Megan or Kira, who stand talking nearby with Kemli and Sevvah. I keep my head down, my hair in front of my face, and head for the outskirts of the village. I grab a woven basket as I pause near my hut at the edge of town and take it with me so I look like I'm going to be busy. I can go collect a few dirt-beak nests for fire fuel, get away for a bit, and then return when I'm settled mentally.

A short distance away, the canyon forks in a few directions, and there is a marked path that leads toward the little cove where the dirt-beaks make their nests. It's one of my favorite places to go and get away, but before I can turn onto the path, I see another person-a sa-khui male-heading into the village even as I leave it. I duck my head, avoiding eye contact.

My cootie starts to hum, and I know who it is, even without looking. I feel that full-body flush move over me, feel my nipples get tight and my female parts get slippery and hot. G.o.d. Why does he have to show up now, when I'm alone? I hurry down the path toward the dirt-beaks, hoping that he won't notice me. That he's busy or bringing in food and he'll go straight into the village and I won't have to worry that he's going to follow.

I know that won't happen, though. And I feel a weird little flutter in my belly because I'm so unsure of what to think.

In the last week since Bek has been 'shunned' by the tribe, he's still hanging around. He lurks on the edges of the village and always seems to be close by. It's like he doesn't know-or doesn't care-that he's being shunned. No one talks to him, but he continues on about his business like it's no big deal. In the mornings, he makes a fire on the outskirts of the village and sharpens his weapons there. He hunts and brings back fresh meat for the tribe, and if no one thanks him for it, he doesn't seem to mind. I'm not sure where he sleeps, but he's always close by, it seems.

I shouldn't notice, and I shouldn't care, but I do. It's the cootie, I think. It's got me all turned around. I'm restless at night, and when I do dream, they're disturbing and erotic and I wake up feeling more achy and needy than ever.

Behind me, I hear footsteps on the snow-scattered cobblestones. My breathing quickens, and I feel the flutter in my belly go wild again. I want to not care that he's following me, but I'm acutely aware of every single step he makes. I clutch my basket tighter and speed up. Should I go back to the village? Hide inside my hut for a few hours? The indecision torments me. I know it should be a simple decision to make, but with the cootie humming in my breast, I can't seem to do it.

"Ell-ee," Bek says, voice low and husky as he moves to my side. "You should not be out here alone."

Oh, I see. He's trying to make it easy for me to dislike him today? I can do that. I shoot him an irritated look and step carefully away from him, making sure that my strides put distance between us.

He keeps pace with me, though, and if I go any faster, I'll be running, and that's just ridiculous. I slow my steps, holding my basket tight and keeping my gaze directly on the ground in front of me. I can see his legs if I peek over out of the corner of my eye, and the b.u.t.t of his spear as it thumps the ground. He holds a dead, spiky-looking animal in his other hand, no doubt another kill for the tribal stewpot. I wish he'd go away and hand it off so he can leave me alone.

I think.

Because even as the words circle through my mind, I realize I might be lying to myself. I'm scared of Bek, but at the same time, I find myself grudgingly fascinated by him and by our connection. I think of when he'd held me against him at the sa-kohtsk hunt. I should be mad about him clenching my jaw and the bruise he'd left on my arm, but all I can think about is how he'd tucked his chin into my filthy hair and whispered to me to calm me. The look of pride and joy on his face as we resonated, as if he was glad-glad! -to be the husband of the dirty mute girl.

Sometimes I think he sees me underneath all this grime. That I can't hide from him. The idea is both terrifying and exciting.

"I wish you would speak to me." He continues to walk at my side, keeping his pace with mine. If I slow my steps to a crawl, his slow, too. "Not because I feel you owe me an explanation," he goes on. "I simply wish to know that you are well. That you are doing all right. That the others are treating you kindly." He pauses. "And...I admit that I wish to hear your voice."

My skin p.r.i.c.kles with awareness at his words, an odd form of pleasure. I don't speak, though. I don't know if I can, yet.

"I know you are not comfortable enough to talk to me. That you worry what our resonance means. But I am a patient hunter, my Ell-ee. I can wait for you to come to me. Resonance might make my c.o.c.k ache, but I can ignore it. I want you to want me as much as I want you."

Well, that'll never happen. I give a little snort, my only concession that I'm hearing his words.

"You can think what you like," Bek says, and there's amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice that adds a rich tone. I like it. "But I know you still feel fear. I know you do not sleep well at night. I know you do not eat much. But you are my mate, even if we have not yet touched, and I will do whatever I can to make you happy. If you do not like the food, I will bring new foods for you. If you are cold at night, I will bring you furs. If you are lonely or sad, I want to comfort you."

Nice words. But I never believe words. They're far too easy to speak and they don't mean anything.

"I dream about you at night," he murmurs, and my skin p.r.i.c.kles again. I've been dreaming about him, too, and the flashes of my dreams that float through my thoughts make my cootie purr even louder. I can hear his purring, too. "When I first saw you," he continues, "I thought you were strange but so very brave. It was clear you were scared, but you never cried, and you did your best to escape. And I thought to myself, this one is strong. She does not cry and weep like the others. She knows there is risk in escape, but she takes it anyhow. She is brave. And I thought that if I should have a mate, she should be strong like you. Instead, my khui has given you to me." There is a ragged little catch in his throat, as if he's emotional, and a sympathetic knot forms in my own throat. "So even though this will take time, I want you to know that you have as much as you need. I am here for you, and I vow to you that I will never touch you in anger, or in menace. I will never force you. When we come together, it will be because you want me, too."

More words. Sweet words, but still as empty and cold as the air around me.

There's a long pause between us as we walk, and then Bek grunts. "I wish you would acknowledge that you have heard me, at least."

I shoot him the bird.

A moment after I do, I regret it. I'm impulsive despite my fear, and I worry it's going to cause me to get hurt again. Will you ever learn, Elly? Jesus. I keep my shoulders stiff, mentally cringing, waiting for him to strike me.

But I only hear a startled laugh. "I will take that response, Ell-ee. Thank you."

And I smile to myself under my cloud of dirty hair.

Bek seems to run out of words after this. We make it to the dirt-beak nesting grounds, a honeycomb of cliffs that are wall to wall with dung-nests, like swallows back on Earth. I expect him to leave now that he's said his piece, but he unstraps his weapons from his waist and sets his spear and his kill down and then proceeds to help me fill my basket with the precious empty nests. They're easy enough to collect, but it's kind of nice to have quiet company, even if my khui does thrum and sing in my chest the entire time.

When my basket is full, I try to pick it up, but Bek makes a surly noise in his throat that makes me skitter backward in fear. He sighs and hefts the basket under one arm, as easy as if it were full of feathers. "I would never hurt you," he growls.

More words. Just more words.

We walk back to the village in silence, and he drops the basket in front of my hut and then pauses for a long, long time. I stare at the toes of my boots, wondering if he's watching me, and if he is, what he's thinking. But eventually, he turns and leaves. I glance up to watch him go, but he doesn't turn back. I grab the basket and decide to take it to the long-house.

As I do, I notice little Erevair standing in the doorway of the long-house, watching. He smiles at me like he has a secret.

Maybe he does. I don't suppose I did a great job of shunning Bek after all.

BEK.