Chương 57: Ch 32b –Walk

Cara loiters in the kitchen, trying to think of something to occupy her. After she circles it three times she decides to relocate to the window. The window chairs at this end of the room are discarded versions of those at the table. Most are covered in dust, some bear heavy scratches, one suffers from a broken leg. There is a reason, she realises, why the group always chooses to congregate at the table or in the armchairs at the far end.

She strides slowly along the wall of windows, looking for a chair with more appeal. Outside the sun is out, glistening off the top of the waves in what is a remarkably calm sea. She sighs, risking a quick sideways glance at Draig. He is still deep in thought, his face lit by the sunlight filtering through the murky windows. The bandage on his nose has gone. His two black eyes have faded into dulled yellow skin.

She wonders if his attention is caught by the view outside or if he is consulting an unseen screen in his middle distance. What do they see when they view their private screens? She'll have to ask Erro. He is her drip feed source of cultural nuances and everyday life that the others either don't want her to know or don't think to explain. She can't imagine Draig or Wyndeer scrolling through pointless social media feeds or playing apps. Perhaps they have news sources or lots of messages to respond to.

Or, the thought sinks in her like stone, they are occupied writing and reading reports about her. What she's eaten. What she's said. What she's done with the shard. What she's failed to achieve. What she's misunderstood. Heaviness begins to slow her feet and drag her thoughts downwards. Again, she looks around the room for distraction.

"I won't bite," Draig says, his voice sounding loud in the barely occupied room. A hot flush burns her cheeks. She silently curses herself for tying her hair back preventing her from hiding her face. He swings his feet down from the chair in front of him and swings it around to face her, giving it a light tap as he releases it. She tries desperately to think of an excuse to retreat to the kitchen but her mind, like her body, has stalled.

Reluctantly, she concedes that refusing his invitation would be more awkward than joining him. He raises an amused eyebrow as she sits stiffly at the front of the chair. In an attempt to look casual, she slowly leans back, hoping the back of the seat isn't as far as she fears. It is further. She slumps awkwardly against her shoulders, her stomach protruding outwards with the arch of her back. He raises both eyebrows.

She sits forward again, shuffling her bottom backwards, nearly kicking him in the shins as her feet rise from the floor. He drapes a hand over his mouth, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he continues to watch her. She swears under her breath. Withdrawing her legs, she curls them sideways on the seat and settles her elbow on the arm rest.

"Comfortable?" he asks, removing the hand from his mouth to reveal the curve of a smile.

"Yes," she says, sticking out her chin.

"Wyndeer said he's delayed. I was going to suggest we could go for a walk." ….. They take a path in front of the main building that follows close to the bluff above the rocky beach below. The sun feels glorious on her skin, balancing perfectly with the fresh breeze from the sea. Small waves tickle at the loose shale, inviting an exploration of the beach. She is tempted to find a place to scramble down to the rocks and test the temperature of the water.

But she has promised not to break the rules, and the rocks are off limits. After an awkward start, they have fallen into a comfortable silence. Draig leads the way, pausing occasionally to ensure she is keeping up. Cara meanders behind, content to take her time. The single file nature of the trail removes the need for conversation. That is until he leaps up a boulder jutting over the bluff and offers out his hand to help her do the same.

She tries not to notice how warm and reassuringly strong his hand feels curled around hers as he gently pulls her up. He moves across, sitting down on a steeper slope of the rock, leaving a flatter section for her. They sit, both with their feet tucked close, their arms resting on their knees, staring out at the sea. On his forearms his cuffs glint in the sun. Her cuff remains hidden under the sleeve of her jumper. She looks past her fidgeting fingers to the grey-green sea beyond.

"Are there fish in the sea?" she blurts, surprising herself by voicing the question that is floating in her mind.

"Fish?" he asks, confused.

"Yeah, you know, fish." She holds out a wiggling hand, her fingers held close together, her thumb a protruding fin. He chuckles.

"Yes, I know what a fish is. Yes, there are fish."

"Do you eat them? I mean, are they considered food?" she asks. He looks at her like she is a simpleton. She presses her lips firmly together, censuring herself from asking further idiotic questions. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"Yes," he says slowly, "we eat them. If you'd eaten those two green kari wraps Erro gave you then you would have eaten our fish too." Feeling the burn of her embarrassment on her cheeks she focuses on a spot on the horizon, avoiding his gaze.

"You've made some good progress with the shard training," he says, changing the subject.

"Can we not- Can we not talk about the shards and training?" she says to her spot on the horizon.

"I mean, we can talk about it with Wyndeer, that's fine. Just, can we leave those conversations for inside." He adjusts his feet. The gravel that is trapped in the treads of his large boots grinds against the boulder.

"Ask me some questions then," he says, breaking the silence.

"Anything mundane. I promise, no judgement." When she remains quiet, he adds, "It's probably best not to ask about fish. I don't know much about them." She gives in to his joke, letting a small half-smile briefly stretch across her cheek. Below them the white water discards its bubbles across the shale. Growing up they had had a tradition of touching the water whenever they visited a beach. Whatever the weather, whatever the purpose of their visit.

It was a game of timing and daring that sometimes ended in wet shoes and soggy socks. Again, the coastal features of the outpost draw out her memories of family holidays on the East Anglican coast.

"Do you swim? I mean, do people swim in the sea? For fun?" She keeps her eyes on the horizon, not wanting to see his reaction to her questions.

"Yes, we swim," he answers without judgement, "but I doubt many have swum for fun on this shoreline. The water is cold and there are strong undercurrents. Please don't try it. I don't want to have to go in after you." He isn't speaking harshly; there is a playfulness to his reprove.

"Got it. This is not a good place for a beach holiday." Her own attempt at playfulness falters.

"Where are we?" she asks, an unintended sadness edging into her voice.

"The Garetrice Peninsular," he answers neutrally.

"And which country is that in?"

"Feilan."

"Argatta, she is in Feilan City? Is it- I thought - What is the name of the planet?"

"Feilan is the country and the planet." He clears his throat.

"We used to have multiple countries, but in recent history, as we started expanding off planet, countries became regions. We merged into one people under one government. Now we are Feilan the country, on Feilan the planet."

"Oh." Her hand flexes, a precaution against the small ripple of vertigo that passes over her.

"And how many other planets do you-, do your people live on?"

"Let's keep the questions about this planet," he says gently. She draws her feet in closer, crossing her arms over her knees to hug them tighter to her chest.

"How far are we from Feilan City?"

"About half a day's travel at a stratosphere level," he replies. She doesn't know what that means, but she doesn't want him to know that.

"Do you live in Feilan City?" She senses his hesitation. As soon as she turns to look at him, he answers quickly.

"Yes." He keeps his attention on the sea in front of them. The yellowed skin under his eyes makes him look tired. It reminds her of the yellow bruising on her throat after the attack on the Wixam. She presses her cheek against the soft fabric of her sleeve in a self-soothing rub as she continues to study him. Not once has he, nor Wyndeer, nor Crathsun, explained about the attack even though it is the reason they have relocated to this outpost.

Only Wyndeer has referred to it, very briefly, as if it had been an incidental event far less significant than rules and shards.

"Why did Joss organise the attack on me?" He lets out a long exhale. The wind blows it back at him, tousling his short hair.

"I said mundane questions, Cara." Annoyance ignites in her chest. It is exhausting trying to navigate what questions she can and can't ask. Navigating when she can and can't speak. What she should and shouldn't do.

"You and Wyndeer. You don't explain why she did it, but you expect me to trust that you won't do the same." He turns sharply to look at her, his elbow brushing against hers with his twist.

"You believe we would?" She sees the indignation in his face and seeks to stoke his reaction in the hope he will reveal more.

"I don't know. Vheece used a pain patch. Joss organised the attack. Wyndeer talked about using the same methods as Vheece. You and Wyndeer had to be pulled off each other. Crathsun has threatened two people in front of me. Everyone seems worried about the fence keeping people out. It seems to me your society has a high propensity for violence." He stares at her. She holds his stare. His face feels achingly close to hers. The light hits his eyes perfectly, revealing an oily rainbow swirl over the deep indigo.

She is already feeling guilty for goading him. His moments of intimidation have never carried a threat of violence towards her. When he has touched her, his hands have been careful. Considered. Reassuring not menacing.

"Only parts of it," he says bitterly, "You happen to have fallen into one of them." His voice becomes husky as he continues, "You're safe here, Cara. I'll make sure you're safe, but you must follow the rules." She waits for more, hopes for more, but he waits out her silence with his own.

"That's the only answer I get?"

"That's what you need to know," he says firmly, a muscle in his cheek pulses. She frowns, "I don't understand." His mouth hardens into a thin line mirrored by the narrowing of his eyes. He turns back towards the sea. She watches his eyes flicking back and forth across the horizon, as if he is searching for something. As she waits out his silence, her confusion simmers into frustration. How many times, she thinks, has their conversation ended with him issuing a vague and ominous warning?

Why does he refuse to explain things to her? She is following the rules, has been trying her best to follow the rules. She stands.

"I think I'd like to go back inside now." He stands without protest. His body brushes against hers as he repositions himself to descend the boulder first. Angry at the wave of awareness that swells across her body, she takes a step back to create space between them, not realising how sharply the side of the boulder falls away. He catches her as she slips, wrapping his arm around her waist. She objects immediately, pushing against his hard chest, twisting to spot a landing off the boulder.

"I'm fine. I can do it by myself," she declares in annoyance. Her jump down is awkward, but she manages to stay the landing. She starts making her way down the trail immediately. Not waiting. Not wanting him to take the lead.