Page 23 of Ice Planet Barbarians

Part Three

GEORGIE

I stare around me uneasily. Somehow, I’ve fallen through a hole covered by the falling snow. It’s a stupid misstep, and it seems that this planet is absolutely riddled with caverns, because I’ve landed in one.

And this one’s occupied. Really, really occupied.

A dozen pairs of eyes stare at me out of weird, fish-like faces. They’re kind of human, kind of not. They’re bipedal and have two arms and legs and are tall. Taller than me. Their eyes are enormous in their pointed faces, their mouths small and round. They look almost cartoony, except for the matted pale hair that covers almost every inch of their bodies. And they smell like a wet, dirty dog. Ugh.

One hoots at me, the sound querulous.

“Hi,” I say softly. I don’t move a muscle as they gaze at me. It’s clear they’re trying to decide if I’m friend or foe. They remind me a bit of Wookiees from a Star Wars movie—Jesus, I’ve really got to get my mind off of Star Wars—except for the fact that they’re white and have enormous eyes. And tails, I realize as one creature moves forward, his tail flicking back and forth like an irritated cat.

It cocks its head and studies me. Then it hoots again.

“Georgie,” Vektal snarls from above. “Georgie!” I hear his hands scraping against the ice above, and snow rains down on my head.

“I think I’m okay,” I call up to him.

The tail-flicking creature lifts its head and hoots at the air again, sounding a bit like an owl.

More snow flicks onto my face, and I peer up. The rocky cavern has a hole up above, and Vektal’s desperately scraping at it, trying to clear enough space for his much larger body to follow me down. He looks frantic and bellows another command at me that I don’t understand. Is it ‘stay put’ or ‘move’ or what?

I look at the bug-eyed yeti-things.

One tilts its head at me and wags its tail faster. It’s almost like an ugly puppy. Almost. I smile and get to my feet slowly, noticing that the ‘puppies’ are all a foot taller than me. “Hey there,” I say, keeping my voice sweet and soft. Maybe if I treat it like a puppy, we’ll get along just fine. When its nostrils flare and the tail thumping increases, I extend my good hand out so he can sniff it.

Immediately, the creature snarls. He slaps my hand away and gives me a vicious shove. I give a startled little scream as I fall to the ground. Another creature pounces on me right away, pulling on my hair and my clothing. Another hoots and throws snow at me. I realize they aren’t like puppies at all, but more like vicious, angry monkeys.

And I’m in an entire den of them.

The hand twisting in my hair pulls hard, and I scream again, trying to slap it free. Another smacks my injured ribs, and the breath gets knocked out of me. I cough and roll around on the ground, trying to protect myself from their wild swings and hooting calls.

From above, there’s a wild, ferocious roar. Then the entire ceiling seems to cave in.

Vektal. Thank God.

Something heavy slams into the ground, and the creatures screech and retreat. I squeeze an eye open just in time to see Vektal roar with fury, the sound vibrating with intensity. The entire cavern shakes, and I watch as he draws his blades.

The creatures back up even more.

I don’t blame them—Vektal looks utterly terrifying. The light in his eyes is blazing, and his fangs are bared with fury. I’m even a little frightened when he turns his gaze toward me.

But then he scoops me off of the ground and flings me over his shoulder, caveman-style, before storming his way down an entirely different passageway. The creatures hoot and scream at him, and when one pounces, I feel Vektal’s big arm sweep it aside as if it’s nothing.

They cluster about, shrieking, and one grabs at my hair again, fisting a handful before I can bat it away. I cry out, and Vektal turns, this time with a knife.

The creature’s dead before it hits the ground.

I gasp at the sight, but then Vektal’s slamming through the cavern, pushing his way through the grabby creatures, and I’m so relieved at the sight of sunlight a few moments later that I want to weep.

We’re out of the cavern, and the creatures aren’t following us.

That doesn’t mean my alien stops, though. He continues on, trudging through the deep snow with a sense of purpose that makes me a little intimidated. I’m still waiting for the I told you so.

But I’m cold and freaked out, and I say nothing to protest my stupid move. If he wants to play caveman, as long as he keeps me safe, I’m fine with that. He’s angry. It’s pretty obvious to me that he’s rather furious, actually. He mutters under his breath in an angry tone, and his body is tense against mine. And the thing that sucks the most is that I can’t even apologize for stomping off. We don’t have the words. I’m so frustrated and unhappy that I want to kick something.

Except my entire body hurts from my fall, and my ribs feel like they’re on fire. So instead of kicking something, maybe I’ll just cry instead. If I do, though, the tears will probably just stick to my face.

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