Page 7 of Seven Oars
Moving as if in a daze, Rosamma pulled her small duffel from underneath her cot, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, and picked up her unfinished book. That summed up her life accurately. Her lips twisted in irony.
“Snacks!” Mara fretted.“Will there be water? I can’t concentrate.”
“The ship’s been stocked. We went over all of that a dozen times with Lyle and Ren,” Alyesha said irritably.
They lined up in front of the door.
Rosamma glanced back at the messy room. It was nothing, just a temporary shelter, an old ramshackle cabin with uncomfortable beds.
Yet it suddenly felt so safe and beckoning.
Tears prickled at her eyes. Oh, how she wished…
She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
Ren needs me.
And starting a new life was not bad just because it was scary. His words. She’d live by them.
The amount of luggage piled up by the door was surprisingly large.
Apparently, the Rix thought so too.
The leader raised a broad six-fingered hand and held up one finger.“One bag each. Do you understand?”
Anske squeaked, then fell silent. The rest only nodded.
The leader tilted his head, and the other two Rix moved with astonishing speed. Rosamma felt their hands on her, patting her down, impersonal and efficient, then moving on to the others.
“What the fuck!” Gro and Alyesha exclaimed in unison.
Four stun guns, three knives, and several pepper sprays were confiscated in seconds.
Eze muttered curses under her breath.
Alyesha kept a stoic silence.
Anske looked forlorn.
Rosamma was floored. Weapons? The idea had never even occurred to her. She’d never held one in her hands. Had no idea how to use any.
But the women had come to this venture armed. They knew to rely on themselves, and they had prepared.
And she’d brought a book with her.
Her gaze drifted to the Rix leader with his wide shoulders and an easy grip on a matte-black, sophisticated weapon.
What a crushing contrast. What must he think of her, the helpless dummy who stood out even among her own womenfolk?
Finally, they went.
The three Rix operated like a well-oiled machine, herding them like sheep. They had to cross a densely wooded area, a real forest, where tall grasses snagged their feet and fallen trees forced them to crawl over while hauling their bags.
Daphne kept crying and dropping her bag, causing Mara to stop and help her, slowing their procession. Alyesha and Gro shot angry looks at the mother-daughter pair, but no one said a word—stealth was key.
Anske dragged her suitcase along the ground, too heavy for her to lift. Finally, it got snagged on a gnarly root and refused to budge.
“Hey, young men! Some help… would be… appreciated!” Anske panted as she yanked on the bag.
