Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
I squat next to her and pick through the mess on the ground, looking for more of the strange cylinders she’s interested in. When I find one, I hold it up and offer it to her. She shakes her head without even sniffing this one. “Snogood,” she burbles. “Butdankyoo.”
Her mouth sounds encourage me. Perhaps I am doing this right. I pick up another thing from the ground—this one a small box wet with rainwater. Something shakes inside it, so I hold it out to her.
Dakotah chuckles and takes it from me. “Dankyoo.”
I pick up another and hold it out to her.
Her lips purse, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. She looks around, then spots something and climbs over the mess to pick it up. It’s square and red—a basket—and she sets it down atop the mess and indicates it. “Inheer.”
I don’t follow what she’s saying. When she indicates the basket again, I pick it up, trying to see what it is she sees. There’s nothing inside.
Dakotah giggles again. She sets the basket down once more and then puts the little cylinder and the small box inside it. “Inheer.”
Ah. Something to carry our treasures. “Ineeer,” I try, mimicking her sounds. When she nods, I feel both relief and frustration. Human sounds are so difficult. I miss the simple touch of minds and instant understanding. Cautiously, I try to send my thoughts to her and meet nothing. The loneliness of it all threatens to overwhelm me again, and I bury my face in my hands. The loss is overpowering sometimes. I’ve lost my home, my memories, my people—
Dakotah exclaims, holding up another small cylinder with excitement. She taps on it, then shows it to me, her teeth bared with enthusiasm. “Salt!”
“Zzaaalfff?” I mimic.
“Salt,” she replies again, pointing at her pink mouth as she does. I watch her lips, fascinated by the way they move. They look…soft. Pleasant. All of her looks soft, actually.
I give her a speculative glance, seeing Dakotah as a female now instead of just a human. It has been a long time since I have touched one. How does mating even work without a mental connection? What does it even feel like?
“Salt,” she says again, not realizing I am not paying attention to the mouth noises anymore.
Instead of echoing her, I reach out and cup her chin, brushing my thumb claw over her lower lip. It is just as soft as it looks. Her eyes widen and she goes stiff.
Not a welcome touch, then. Ah well. I lower my hand.
Dakotah watches me for a moment and then goes back to digging. Her movements are jerky and she avoids looking at me, so I decide to give her space. I get to my feet and stretch, then move deeper into this curious dwelling. I am not entirely sure the purpose of it, but that is the case for a lot of human-made buildings. I have no idea what they are meant to be.
The musty smell grows thicker as I venture towards the back of the building. There’s a hint of something else in the air, something acrid that I find unpleasant and chemical, and it’s coming from a room in the back behind a leaf-and-dust strewn counter. I avoid it, moving to lift another shelf to help Dakotah out.
And that’s when I see the stranger standing nearby.
I hiss in surprise and lash out with my claws, thoughts racing. Why didn’t I smell him? Why didn’t I hear his subtle movements the way I should have?
But the man crumbles, breaking in half and falling to the floor in two long, flat pieces.
Now…I’m just confused.
CHAPTER 13
DAKOTA
“Murr? You okay?” I dust off my hands and move to the back of the old pharmacy, alarmed by the hissing noise that came from him.
He turns to look at me, eyes wild and swirling with black, his hands bent so his claws look like sickles. Smoke trickles from his nostrils and his shoulders are heaving.
It scares me a little, and I hesitate, my hands going up protectively. Shit. I left my bat next to the shopping basket. I’d let my guard down, because Murr has been so normal and human-seeming despite his strange golden appearance. The sight of those whirling eyes reminds me that he is very much not human, though, and a chill goes down my spine.
Murr growls low in his throat, then turns slowly. The spikes on the backs of his arms flex and he swipes at the air with his claws again. I see nothing there, however. After a moment, he leans over and stabs his claws into a cardboard standee of a pharmacy employee.
Or at least, the lower half of one. It’s clear he has no idea what to make of it. I take a step forward and he automatically moves, blocking me from whatever threat he thinks the standee is.