Page 12 of Invasive Species
“I don’t know about sheep in particular, but I presume they need a safe habitat.”
“Oh yeah. Check the fences, look for escapees.”
I glance toward the house. “I’ll get you a covering.”
“Uh huh.” She nods.
I stride over, open the door and grab a thick coat which looks small enough for Arra-bellah. I drape it over her shoulders, and she startles, then slides her arms through. “Thanks.”
A female, thanking a clone? Only True Borns can expect any kind of consideration. I grunt back, unsure how to respond. “Next is shelter, if they don’t have it already.”
She looks toward our lean-to.
I wave my hand in front of her face. “Not our shelter, shelter for the animals. Do they need one and, if so, do they have one?”
“Check the little sheds in the fields, got it.” Shenotes that down too. Her breathing comes more easily, as if I’ve lifted a weight from her.
Seeing her relax into the warmth of the coat and her smile widening as the list grows cracks something open deep inside me. Something that should remain buried. I shove it back. All I’m doing is what’s expected of me, so we can survive on this world. Nothing more, nothing less.
FIVE
ARABELLA
Readingthrough the list Gara helped me with makes everything flow a little easier. All I need to do is one task at a time, and ignore the rest. Or try to, anyway.
Because the alien’s lean-to is really calling to me. It’s not one of my canvases, but it’s got that potentiality—is that a word? It is now—this kind of simmering, shimmering quality, like the rainbow on a soap bubble.I can be anything, it whispers to me.Come find out what I could be.
But the animals really do come first. Fortunately, there are no breaks in the fences, and the sheep have what looks like plenty of hay inside a circular grate thing where they stick their heads in to tear at it without trampling the food. Clever, really.
But how long until that runs out? Because when it does, I’m going to have to haul hay around. I flex my arms. I’m fit from all the swimming I do, but lifting and shifting is something else entirely. I’ll probably tip the bales over, and Gara will have to fish me out again.
My cheeks flush. I don’t really want to ask him for help with the hay. With every word I spoke, his face got more andmore stormy, his scales going dark green as if trying to hide in shadow.
“Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the pile this morning,” I console myself. Except I get, like, a sense when someone’s pissed off with me. Sometimes when I look up after I’ve been talking a mile a minute, I notice it flash across their face: a kind of exhaustion in their eyes, followed by relief when I make my excuses and leave.
At least I know where I am with Gara, but standing next to him really helped me think through my shit this morning. His big, thick arms folded so tight across his chest, like he held himself in. Or maybe blocking everything else out. Hard abs pebbled his stomach, flexing with every breath.
My stomach gargles, and I smack the heel of my hand to my forehead. “No wonder he's pissed. We haven't had breakfast.”
Ellen usually makes scrambled eggs on toast first thing. What time is it now? I squint at my cracked phone screen. Shit, half one. They're probably starving, and they're way too polite to demand some nosh.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter, running back to the farmyard. Still can't find Floss pottering about the yard. Instead, Old Mae struts from the coop, giving a throaty cackle as I skid to a halt right outside the run. But when I jump over the gate, she bristles.
“Time for breakfast,” I sing out toward the barn. “Better late than never.”
Mae fluffs her feathers, extending her neck and hissing at me. Chickens hiss? I had no idea.
“Let me through, babes,” I coo, reaching to stroke her fluffy head. Ellen does this before she goes inside to retrieve the eggs.
Mae lunges, beak snapping at my fingers, and flaps her wings, thwacking myarm.
I curl into myself. “Ah...”
“Get back,” Gara growls. He leaps over the gate and plants himself between me and Mae, fists bunched.
I grab his arm. “Don't hurt her.”
He glowers down at me. “I wasn't going to.”
