Citrine (Deliverance #3)

21. Wroahk

21

Wroahk

No matter what I'm doing, no matter where I am, my attention always returns to the female.

I've watched her sleep for the second night in a row yet the storm in my mind has yet to stop raging. It's doing nothing for my raging thoughts to be so near her, but the expression on her face when she sees me approach is something I've never seen.

I want to see more of it.

As I approach the grassland, I see she's now standing, like she's waiting. I can't stay too long on land, yet I cannot leave her here.

"Good morning!"

Her voice is high pitched, making her fumble through the clicks of my language. My grasper twitches with the desire to insult her, but I keep it still.

Her tone and body say she is happy, but it doesn't feel right. Like it's a trick.

She maintains her distance from me, and I can see every tense muscle in her body. She can't run far from me, but it doesn't mean she isn't going to try if I frighten her.

Why should I care? I won't have to expend much energy catching her. I don't respond to her greeting, though I do I wonder why she's excited.

"I have a feeling it's going to be a great day! I've already eaten and I'm ready for a little chat."

"We cannot stay here," I immediately say, trying not to prolong my time on the surface.

"Why not? It's nice here, and I have found a way to make myself comfortable after my arm started healing. Look, I made myself a little bed ." She points to the base of the large tree and I see a rough compaction of the grass, mashed together like they'd been pressed on.

She looks proud of her ridiculous nest.

"I figured since the grass doesn't hurt my skin, it's fine if I create a little sleeping bag for myself. Anyway, why don't you want us to stay here?"

"I'll dry up."

Her eyes drift down to my tentacles as her mouth forms a round shape. She puts her grasper to her chin, and I can see that she's thinking. I'm tempted to just toss her over my shoulder and take her with me, but I cannot hurt her.

" Okay , let's go! It's not like I can say no to you, anyway. I'm just happy to be here with someone," she says, her face not looking like it usually does.

Is she lying? Yes, I think she is, but I don't understand why.

Sometimes she is very angry, and it seems real. Sometimes she is very happy, and it feels like a trap.

What would motivate her to lie about being happy?

I reach to carry her since she's very slow, but she moves out of the way, fear flashing across her eyes for a moment before her happy face trap is back. I retract my grasper and let her walk behind me, listening to her little gasps and mumbles as we head to the lake.

Much to my annoyance, I now must watch over this fragile thing constantly because it will die from not speaking.

Is there anything that won't kill it?

We settle along the shore on opposite sides with me watching her from the water. She nestles on a small stretch of sand and my upper body is slightly above the water. Her mouth hasn't stopped moving since we decide to move to the water.

"It's funny that the last face I saw before I woke up here was my mother's , begging for her lover to still be alive. She birthed me yet I was less important to her than the hijo de puta that beat on her every single day," she scoffs, anger brewing in her eyes.

She calms herself with a breath and continues talking, although I really wish she would stop.

"Maybe the reason I went to visit her that day was because I had hope , faith that the female my padre once loved and cherished was still in there, somewhere. He was such a good man ." Her voice changes again, her face falling.

My tentacles itch, but I pay them no mind.

"My padre and she were married for a while when I was younger. I thought they were in love . I used to believe such fairy tales . It all came crashing down when they divorced and my mother got everything, leaving me to be with my padre . What could he do? He was an expatriate with no family around. He raised me as best as he could. He did everything to make me happy and even encouraged me when I got into the gifted program . Padre was the best and I thought we would live like that forever. Unfortunately, life is so cruel. He left me so early and passed away in a work accident."

Her voice is soft and passionate. She speaks fondly of this person she calls padre , her eyes becoming softer when she mentions the name. She also speaks of the person who birthed her. To know the person who is responsible for your existence is such an odd feeling to me.

"Who is this padre person?"

"He's… my father . He's the other person responsible for me being alive."

It's truly so odd.

"Your seed-bearer is dead?" I say.

She wiggles her face up and down. "Yes."

"I see. I understand that. Many of the males of my species do not survive seed-giving, or if they do, they die young and violently. But why does it matter to you that he is dead? It is normal."

"Like I said, he was responsible for me. He took care of me best as he could. He wasn't always good at it, but he tried his best. It doesn't always have to be how you describe."

"I do not understand. What other way could it be?"

"You find other people who look out for you, and you look out for them. You make a safe place, and you protect it together."

"I do not trust others. They will steal your kills and tear out your throat in your sleep if they can."

"Wroahk," she says, looking at me with something I don't recognize in her eyes. "Has anyone ever touched you without violence?"

"No."

"What? Your life has been very different from mine. I mean, my stepfather is pretty much a bastard who used to beat on me and my mother but aside from that, I met a lot of people who were kind to me."

Kind ? I don't know what that means.

She must know that, because she pauses and does the thing where she's carefully selecting her words.

"That didn't translate. Kindness. It means for someone to look at you without an intent to harm or have someone speak to you with no ill will, usually to make you feel good and you do the same for others."

"That does not exist," I say, hoping to end this immediately.

She is as insane as I suspected.

"Can I prove you wrong?" she asks, her voice pitching up.

I can't deny my curiosity, though I know she has nothing to teach me.

"You can do whatever you like, but you will fail. I'm confident that it does not exist, this thing you speak of. You are a terrible hunter, so why would you know anything I do not?"

Despite what I say, the look on her face unsettles me.