Page 17 of Planet Zero
Zoark was a sour ass.
He was as tall as Chief Net’ok, with similarly thick legs, but his upper body appeared not as muscular. His long hair was twisted in a careless braid, and he wore a shirt shaped like a tunic where other men went bare-chested. He was also kind of pale, with dull sunken eyes. Strange. She wondered about his position within the tribe, if he was a spiritual leader like the Yellow Robes. But judging by the fact that he hadn’t been invited to the Addie Show until they needed an interpreter, he must suck at his profession.
Distracted by her musings, she stepped on a particularly sharp rock that dug into one of the deeper cuts on the sole of her foot.
“Ouch!” She hopped on one foot. “How much longer to the sands? Whatever they are.”
Zoark stopped and turned.
He looked like he might not deign her with a reply, but finally said, “It depends on how fast you can go.”
“If we’re five on the scale from one to ten, where ten is competitive sprints, how long?”
“The shadows will have grown twice as long as they are now. That’s to the sands. And in your dreams you’re a five. You’re not even a two. On the human scale.”
“What? Sarcasm?” she muttered.
If he heard her, he probably didn’t understand the word, but Addie wondered. He spoke her language better than she’d expected.
She hopped to the nearest bush and sat down. “I need a moment.”
“I don’t have a moment. Let’s go.”
She inspected her feet and found them really messed up, scratched and scraped, with a few deep cuts oozing blood. She yanked at the dull green bush leaves. “You in a rush? To do what? Get back to your cheerful assembly and listen to what your yellow priest has to say? Do a ritual dance? Share a communal meal with one spoon?”
“You insult us.”
She applied the leaves to her feet and pulled at the grass stalks to make ties to keep them in place.
“I don’t give a rip about you, Zoark. That’s the beauty of being a cast-off: No one to care about.”
She continued wrapping her hurting feet in leaves and grasses.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “I can abandon you here.”
“What’s once more? I’ll find my way back without your help. Eventually.”
“Or I can kill you where you sit. Come morning, there’ll be nothing left of you except your ridiculous hair. I doubt even maggots will find it appealing, and we have some real indiscriminate maggots here.”
Addie couldn't suppress a shudder. The maggots were the reason why For never buried their dead. A body left on the ground overnight would be cleaned by morning, bones and all.
She pushed her offensive hair away from her face. “If you wanted to kill me, I would’ve been dead by now. And remember, your queen said no.”
“Who would tell her what happened to you?” he asked silkily.
He scared her. And he knew it. When she raised her eyes to look at him, he was staring back, his lifeless eyes cold and piercing. He knew how to read her, a human woman, and this realization scared her even more.
She hated this Zoark. She wanted nothing more than to part ways with him forever.
Angry and frightened, she plucked the dull orange flowers from the bush and stuck them, a pair of twos, on the sides of her leaf “shoes” and stood up.
“No need to kill me,” she said lightly. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
He blinked when he took in the full glory of her footwear. The leaves puckered in some places, and the straw holding them together stuck out in all directions making the booties look like angry hedgehogs. But her skin was now protected, and the flowers added a nice touch if Addie said so herself.
Zoark didn’t seem to be able to tear his eyes away from her creation.
She tapped her foot, and his head gave a weird little jerk.
