Spectator

Chapter Seventeen: Now

"Why couldn't they have horses?" Zakariah complained, his lip curling with distaste as the tribespeople loaded yet another pack of something onto his already burdened shoulders. At least it wasn't dripping with blood, like some of the others. Kali had her own share of supplies strapped to her. If it was anyone else, she'd probably agree that these people at least needed to invent the wagon. But their primitive technology was also part of the protectorate clause, and trying to advance them in any way was forbidden. So Kali kept her mouth shut for suggestions, even when Sh'an strapped another waterskin to her thigh. His fingers lingered, as they did each time, and she wished she knew for sure if her shudder was from discomfort or dissatisfaction.

Sh'an still glowered at her whenever she tried to catch his gaze for too long, but at least her wrists were now tied in front of her, and not behind. Probably to keep her from immediately toppling the first time she hit a root. They were heading to the main camp, but how far and where wasn't something they were sharing with Zakariah, and it was tiring getting snapped at every time she asked for a translation. At least they still had the communicators tucked into their Hubs, mainly because the tribe had been unable to remove them. But they couldn't risk turning anything on since they weren't on their own for a single waking moment.

Kali could only hope Nari and Jae were following them, or at least nearby as they left the waterfall camp. Apparently this group were both hunters and gatherers—as much as there were pelts from felled animals, there were also accumulated fruits and leaves. More than a few herbs were stuffed into Kali's new satchel pack, and the strong aroma had too many scents for her to differentiate. She hadn't paid much attention in botany, either, so they all looked the same to her. Besides, there was so much here, from fauna to flora, which was shocking on a planet covered with so much wasteland. This was what the Earth looked like centuries ago, before the Collapse. And the tribes were even more antiquated than that, having kept to their old ways even as more and more automation and technology subsumed the Earth. But if they hadn't - would there be any of them left at all?

Her leg, which was nearly healed but not quite, started throbbing early into the afternoon.

The second time she stumbled, nearly planting straight on her face, Sh'an hoisted her up by her shoulder strap, a little more forceful than she felt necessary. His hand stayed too, warm fingers on her skin before releasing her. He growled something at her she didn't quite understand. Frustrated, and unable to properly articulate that frustration, she shook her bound wrists at him. It was perhaps a violent gesture, one that she shouldn't have made as Alisa slowed beside them, but the woman had a look of amusement, not anger, as if entertained by Kali giving Sh'an attitude. He huffed, and Alisa strode on, laughing in low, melodic tones.

Sh'an crossed his arms in front of his still barely covered chest, appraising her. Sensing that she was about to be hit with an unintelligible lecture, Kali pointed at her thigh for good measure. Now he frowned, taking a step closer to her, parting the strips of animal furs and leather so he could see her brown skin, and where blood had darkened the medipatch. He grabbed her by the elbow, saying something along the lines of following. Alisa and her brother turned to look as Sh'an pulled Kali away, but they made no sound of dispute. Neither did Zakariah, his expression either smug or uneasy. But Zakariah worrying about her especially didn't seem likely, so Kali guessed the former.

Her heart raced in her chest as Sh'an led her away, even if they didn't go far; they stopped in the shade of a wide bottomed tree, its leaves cascading nearly to the dirt. Water rippled in a shallow pool at its base that Kali wasn't exactly sure where it came from; there was no stream here, even if water wasn't far. He directed her to sit where one of the larger roots had formed a nearly horizontal bench, kneeling before her as his hands began to clear her leg, pushing aside satchel and packs. She flinched automatically when he brushed aside even the flowing leaves of her makeshift skirt, and to her surprise, he paused. Those solemn black eyes stared into hers with such ardour that she had to look away. It was ironic that he'd never been to space when his gaze looked like it would be right at home among the darkness and twinkling stars. There was a sheen of sweat on his dark copper skin, blue paint smeared in places. He leaned back, but when she tried to move, he ordered her still with a few gestures and direct words.