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She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but she was beginning to realize she’d better have more on her mind when she did than ‘fuck you’.
he gave his chest a half-hearted knock and said his own name in return. Not the whole thing, of course. He may or may not be killing the creature later; he wasn’t getting too formal with it now.
Meoraq cocked his head. “He has a tendency to use longer and stranger words when he thinks he’s losing an argument, have you noticed?”
She stared at him for a long time while her people whispered at each other behind her. “Are you telling me the Devil built our solar generator?” she asked at last. “Because I’m all for leaving it behind, but that’s just stupid.”
He had shot the idea of a return to Earth into them like a drug and now they were all laughing and talking what-ifs and planning the first thing they were going to eat, the first place they were going to go, the first person they were going to sue.
She supposed she could just ask him what he thought the stupid little doll meant, but it would inevitably lead to her telling him why she’d really made it and she couldn’t see how any conversation that included the words, “I was burning you in effigy all night,” could end well. And she didn’t want to fight.
So.” He moved his hand and gestured to her. “What is it you want to say?” “If you’re mad at me, get mad at me!” “If I’m not mad, can I just go to sleep?”
“Shit happens.” His language, her phrase. They were both doing a lot of that. “And it is my fault. You can make all the smart-ass comments you want to.” “Lo,” Meoraq intoned, “even his ass be wise.”
I would give anything…” He thought, frowning. “Almost anything,” he amended, “to go back to just one day, one hour, and unmake the insufferable little prick that I was.” “Almost anything, huh?” He met her smile with another of his terribly serious looks and brushed his knuckle across her brow. “I would not give you. My blood. My blades. Even my name, but not you, Soft-Skin. You are mine. I will give you up to our Father and no one else.” Amber sighed and patted the side of his snout. “Say that again, but try not to sound like such a stalker when you do it this time.”
She couldn’t argue, so she did what anyone would do. She switched targets. “You chew with your mouth open.” “I’m allowed to breathe when I eat,” he replied, glaring. “And you growl in your sleep.” “It’s called snoring and I do n—” She hit another rock, tipped the sled, and spilled its contents down the other side of the hill. They stood together and watched until the last bundled hide had finished rolling. When she finally nerved herself up to look at him, he was already looking at her. “In my defense,” she said, lifting her chin, “there are a lot of rocks.”
Meoraq consulted his clay, which had used the little time since his awakening to decide it was not dying after all, but which had not yet decided whether or not it was glad to hear that.
