back had ceased moving, but I was afraid to turn my head. Afraid to see what new obstacles littered our path, afraid to see the stricken looks on my friends’ faces. Afraid of my own fear. The earthquake wasn’t any worse than the one that had trapped Raxthezana and I on the land bridge, but we were already pinned between canyon walls in the belly of a mountain, and dread crept into the tension in my shoulders. The quakes were increasing in frequency. If they increased in intensity, I didn’t think we could make it any farther. The trails behind us could already be destroyed—collapsed or cracked, buried under tons of rock or sunk deeper into the planet.
“CeCe.” Raxthezana’s voice pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. “There is the path. Let’s keep walking.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice hoarse as if I’d been breathing the dust-clogged air.
“If the landquake hasn’t altered it, there is another crevasse in the passage,” he said. “This one we must descend and traverse in the canyon below then climb up the other side.”
“Okay,” I said.
“CeCe?”
“I’m afraid,” I said. I didn’t think my limbs could move.
“Then we rest,” he said.
Surprised, I cocked my head and looked up at him. In spite of the particulate in the air, he took off his helmet and peered at me, helmet and all, and I could feel his love penetrating me through the clouded dust and my helmet visor. Solid black eyes ringed with red, his gaze should have been menacing and ferocious; he had fangs and shark-textured skin, swooping black brows and harsh, angled features, and yet, the skin around his eyes softened and a smile touched his lips, and tenderness overflowed from him and onto me.
“I have found in my long years that when I feel I can’t go on, then it behooves me to stop,” he said. “We will sit. We will break bread. We will honor where we are in our journey, and we will do no more than that.”
And just like that, the terror coiled in my gut leeched out, and I slid down the wall to sit with my wrists on my bent knees and my head bowed.
Raxthezana announced to everyone that we should gather and take stock, and before I knew it, everyone had eased closer from the places where they’d survived the tremor in the Narrows, shaken and dazed, but intact, relief evident on their faces.
The space we occupied was no more than two meters wide at its most, tapering to a meter and a half at its narrowest. Hivelt made his way through the rubble and stood across from me.
“A hunter can move at last,” he said and stretched his arms and legs, bent at the waist and cracked his neck. He sat with a huff, stirring up another dust plume.
The rest of us sat in silence and breathed, letting the particulate settle around us so we could remove our helmets to drink and eat.
Hivelt lit his fire rod for us, and the flickering light invited peaceful reflection.
“The quakes are getting closer together,” I said.
“VELMA, are the earthquakes increasing aboveground or are they concentrated down here where we’re approaching the Black Mist Chamber and the pool of the Holy Waters?” Esra asked.
“The earthquakes occur both above and below ground, Esra,” VELMA answered. “It is advisable that you complete the quest with haste and return to Raxthezana’s ship.”
“Thank you,” Esra said but shook her head. Her frown and tired eyes said more than she admitted aloud.
When I looked around at my friends, I saw them bedraggled and fatigued. Esra had circles under her eyes; Joan’s eyes were puffy, and her cheeks were drawn. Amity’s expression was haggard, and Pattee could only be described as war-torn.
And the hunters—I’d known Raxthezana the longest but stolen moments viewing VELMA’s archives showed them powerful and larger than life on most days—they seemed leaner, carved, and stark here in the flickering shadows.
“How heavy is the woaiquovelt?” I asked.
When they didn’t answer, the women and I exchanged knowing looks.
But Natheka spoke. “It is significant but that is not the burden that weighs so heavily upon us.”
Amity caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes and pressed into her palm.
“You’re worried about us,” Joan said and Raxkarax pulled her deeper into his arms where she sat between his legs.
Watching the warriors’ faces, I saw their bleak expressions transform. Naraxthel’s nostrils flared; Hivelt’s eyes narrowed, and Raxkarax’s fists clenched. Muscles feathered across Natheka’s cheek and Raxthezana’s face hardened. He spoke.
“Yes. But we would die before we let harm befall any of you,” he said, his voice gravel.
“We know that,” Esra said. “But we don’t want you to die for us.”
“We want you to live for us,” Joan said. “That means you might have to ask for help or rest when you need it.”
“We need this rest,” I said after a few minutes’ silence. “All of us do. Raxthezana and I will take first watch.”
Hivelt wasted no time dimming the fire rod, and the couples doubled up on their pallets and fell into quick deep sleeps.
I picked my way between them to watch our flank while Raxthezana remained at the head of the trail.
“Your words meant a lot to me,” I said over our comms. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
“Is everyone going to be okay?” I asked.
“This is a dark time,” he said. “The hunters thrive in the greenery of this world and under the light of the two suns. As you heard, we strain under the toil of fear for our mates. Our love is a fresh and tender thing, newly discovered and cherished. Life is but a morning mist on Ikthe, burned off before we can appreciate its cool droplets. The ikthekal are accustomed to death and loss. We don’t know ….” He stopped talking, and my throat closed up with unshed tears.
“We don’t know what it’s like to possess something so precious and know that Ikthe could tear it from our grasp without a thought,” he said.
“Oh Raxthezana,” I said on a soft cry. “I wish I could hold you.”
“You will,” he said. “Tell me of your home world to pass the time. You never finished your story of the blue whale.”
So I did.