Page 71 of Alien Jeopardy
We stay like that for a long while, drifting among the flooded alien pines.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Ellison
The sky is a freakishly bright purple, the sun setting impossibly fast.
It gets colder the moment it starts descending behind the treetops, much higher now that the water has completely disappeared.
I fell asleep against Ka-Rexsh, and only woke up when the boat bumped against the ground.
It wasn’t a solid sleep, and I’m still exhausted from everything today, so the thought of getting a full night’s sleep on solid ground without worrying about being attacked by something awful the AI throws at us sounds phenomenal to me.
“It makes me uncomfortable,” I say out loud.
“What does?”
“The path. It’s unnatural.”
He grunts, nodding and squeezing my hand. “Ken is leading us somewhere.” Ka-Rexsh’s wing looks like it must be getting better because he’s holding it up, though it’s still at an awkward angle.
“Are you in pain?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he says, and it’s matter-of-fact. He’s not complaining, not whining, not throwing a fit about it. He’s in pain, and he’s handling it.
“You’re very strong,” I tell him.
He shoots me an amused look.
“In the physical sense, obviously,” I rush on. “But mentally, too. You haven’t complained about your wing, or any of those cuts from that awful snake, and you’re taking care of me.”
I run out of words, wrinkling my nose in irritation at myself.
How embarrassing can I be?
“Taking care of you is an honor, Ellison. The pain in my wing isn’t worth wasting more energy complaining about, especially when I could spend the time hearing your voice instead of my own. I will not lie, though, I am pleased that we are on the way to a safe place to sleep for the night, and I am pleased that your friend Poppy was able to reason with Ken.” He shakes his head, frowning. “It’s odd. All of this.”
“I worry about Billie and Ayro and the rest of the crew.”
“You have a kind heart,” he tells me, squeezing my hand again.
“No one has ever accused me of that,” I say with a laugh.
He gives me a quizzical look, and I assume that particular colloquialism didn’t translate quite right.
The light’s fading. “We should walk faster. I can’t see in the dark.”
“I can,” he says easily. “I think the campsite is directly ahead.”
He puts an arm around my waist, leading me to the site. While I can’t see the campsite, I don’t really need his help walking, but it’s nice to be helped.
It’s nice to be cared for.
I’m not sure I remember the last time I let someone take care of me.
I’m not sure I remember if anyone ever wanted to.
