Page 7 of Betrothed to the Yeti

I flip through the rest of the canvas pile, my sighs hardening into scowls at the vibrant colors of Earth. Their happiness twists my guts. If I bound these pictures together, I’d have the perfect book of Alpha’s establishment. Verdant plants, content animals, and vivacious people left to decay in a dark wasteland. But why?

“People who tried to build the communications towers would need more of a reason to leave us behind than unsavory character, right?” My question cocks Ku Huang’s head, but the goat’s problems are less existential. She chews the discarded fabric in an attempt to feed her unborn kids. I must get her out of here and onto a buried plant patch. She will have to dig through the layers of snow and ice before she collapses with hunger, to reach anything worth eating. As if listening to my thoughts, she bleats at my distress.

“No secret doors. No fusion crystals to burn the place down,” I say while tugging at my long, unruly hair. The elaborate braids Nima plaited for me this morning have sprung loose from their pins to hang about my head like tentacles. I’m sure I wear a crown of frizz.

I wish I had my insulating hat for my journey to…where? Alpha is out of the question. I can’t hide in Delta or Beta because news of my betrothal to the Yeti is juicy gossip. The people of Gamma know, too since they marched alongside me for half my journey to the temple. How long will we survive squatting outside the villages’ fences, or do I dare to scout the tundra of an unexplored planet?

Exhaustion and hopelessness drop me to my knees and down to the floor. My heart lost its thundering gallop, but I still gulp for air. I don’t dare to unbutton my coat. It would mean I’m resigned to staying. I’ll suffocate first. Ku Huang scoots close and licks my face. I lay in silence as if the answer will crawl to where I’m spread out on the floor. The ceiling above reaches a point in the rock. The left side is the natural rock cliffside, while the right is ornate…with a necklace of round windows!

“If only I could climb,” I murmur with my finger pointed to the holes. Ku Huang takes my posture as a command and bounces onto the mattress. Puffs of grime rise with every step she takes. The swirls carved into the bedposts are the perfect width for her dainty hooves. She alternates tiny shuffles within the grooves and precarious steps to the next level. Errant snowflakes dance around her from the ventilation holes above the bed. Her pacing the width of the post makes me giggle…wait! She could reach the temple’s holes if she stood on her hind legs at the top of the post. If she can escape through those openings, so can I!

I scramble to my feet and kick up a cloud of dust when I run onto the bed. The snow-soaked mattress squelches as I cross to the tall bedposts against the wall. Thank goodness they, too, are made of solid rock. I shimmy my way to freedom, my arms and legs wrapped around the pole. After shoving a terrified nanny goat onto the awning over the front door, I roll myself through the opening like a sack of crystals dumped into a fusion reactor. Hope surges through my veins as I recline on the roof and laugh at the stars.

Ku Huang follows her instincts and climbs down the rocky mountainside instead of trusting the sheer sides of the temple. Snagging my dress, I tumble behind her across the roof. The house tattles to its owner with the echoing scrapes of my knees. The sounds of night answer me with chirps of herbivores, followed by the growls of pursuing predators. I hope they fill their bellies before I reach the snow. Muscle fatigue overwhelms my adrenaline and excitement from escaping the Yeti. Was I smart to escape someone sworn to protect humans? Was the threat of being eaten my imagination?

Too late now.

The crevice that magically held Ku Huang is too narrow for my fingers and I slip the final two meters. My back hits the snow with a splat, but thankfully the new powder gives way. I sink a foot as if collapsing into bed.

For a moment…I can rest here… My eyelids flutter closed against the spray of icy drizzle. Just a moment to gather my wits…so tired of running…and fighting…the struggle…

Ku Huang’s screams jerk me awake. My fingers and toes sting with frostbite through my worn gloves and holey boots. A pack of Enceladus’s wild dogs forms a semicircle around us. The green flecks in their haunting black eyes glow in the pitch-black night. Seven giant heads swing on elongated necks to flash their flat teeth at us. Their bodies disappear where the circular window light can’t reach us. Why did I think escaping through a window was a good idea?

They claw at the ground to form a pit. I forgot they bury their prey until it freezes to death before crunching it with their teeth. Their flat teeth aren’t made for ripping warm flesh. By lying in the snow, I made myself a willing sacrifice—sacrificing myself twice in one day must be a human record. Why didn’t I take my chances with the sentient monster?

How long was I out? Ku Huang kicks at the temple in a feeble attempt to climb the steep wall carvings to escape. Even my goat outsmarted me! I forgot. Never lie on the ground outside of the village walls. Having never traveled outside of them, what other survival rules did I forget over the years? I didn’t think I was destined to work in the fields or mines, so they didn’t seem relevant to my child-sized brain. What little girl in Alpha didn’t grow up thinking she would end up a coveted housewife whose life would be tucked safely inside some kind man’s house?

No weapon. No crystals. Nothing but my intelligence and borrowed bridal finery to combat feral dogs.

Great.

I whip the tattered painting cloth off my hair and roll it between my hands to make a tube. At my tiny five feet stature, I am taller than the dog’s four-footed stance. They hesitate and gift me the opening I need. I snap the length of cloth at each wolf who tries to advance closer than the trench they dug. My teeth are pointier than theirs, so I sneer and snap at them. I growl and snarl for dramatic effect, in the hopes Ku Huang finds a solid path up the building before the wolves discover I’m full of shit.

“I can’t do this forever, Ku Huang,” I whine. My arms are heavy with exertion. As a beggar and cheesemonger, I’m not used to physical altercations…after furniture climbing…after walking a mile to this nightmare.

The wolves recover from their initial shock from my bursting from the snowdrift. They grow bolder with each pass. When I pause to rewind my cloth, I’m nipped by the wolf to my left. Pain radiates up my arm. Blood splatters onto the snow. My scream rings through the night, but it acts more like a rallying cry than a deterrent to the wolves. I waste precious seconds counting my fingers. Scraped to the bone, five digits clench the cloth. I’ll never survive on the tundra now.

However, an answering roar flattens the dogs’ ears against their heads and humbles their postures.

An explosion of snow detonates behind the middle wolf in the ring surrounding me. The animal disappears beneath the drift…

…and a pissed-off Pabu takes his place.

Pabu’s arms fold across his chest as if he’s about to lecture me when the wolves turn on him. My heart drops into my boots. Can wolves hurt a God? Can Yeti Gods die? How many wolves can he fight at once? The ones close to him are swept under the snow with the opening of his arms. They whine as they struggle against the heavy powder. Their pack mates rush to save the buried dogs—from suffocating or freezing? I’m shocked to my toes when they kick additional snow onto the pile. The yips beneath turn to snarls before they drown to muffled tones. The topside wolves stomp on the snow to compact the weight and crush those wolves underneath.

Does this planet breed cannibals or just attract them? Some days I believe beasts like those won’t be Alpha’s demise but self-consumption instead. I’m hypnotized by the pile of fur pushing errant paws and snouts under the snow as their packmates whine for help. Cooperative allies and family members a second ago are now food. Is it desperation that leads them to destroy one another? Hunger is something I understand, but I never sacrificed my sisters.

Nima’s sneer at Mr. Rinzen clouds my brain and freezes my feet to the snow.

Pabu steps between me and the closest wolf who joins the frenzy. I flinch and hide my face. I have found turning before a slap makes the sting of skin hitting skin less abrasive. If you roll your neck into it, you lessen the risk of whiplash too. His hands are incredibly large. I brace myself, but Pabu’s violence doesn’t come. His hot breath fans over my neck and caresses the skin I’ve exposed in my cowering pose.

“We should go while they have forgotten about us,” Pabu whispers, but doesn’t move. He wears a defeated expression instead of the scowl I was expecting, nor does he strike me for escaping. “Pick your direction and move.”

“I’m free?” The ornate marriage scarf that still hangs around my neck muffles my voice.

“You were never my prisoner,” he whispers before turning toward the stairs. “I didn’t bring you here, nor did I ask for a human sacrifice. I asked for a friend. Surrounded by treasure, I find myself jealous of the bonds I witness in the human villages—the bond you have with your goat.”

My mouth opens and closes in unison with his departing steps. He won’t save me a second time, but he’s not standing in my way either. Ku Huang waddles after him without a backward glance. When she reaches his side, he rubs her fluffy head. Like a traitor, she bumps her snout on his fingertips. I grind my molars as the pair ascend the stairs to the temple.

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