Page 30

Come Play

Callum

Cal felt the warm, wet breeze over his skin as Rumi stepped out of the dome.

Looking at her feet, he noted they were bare.

He winced silently when he realized she had no weapon.

Not even that little butter knife that Fyn gave her.

Foolish woman.

When she carefully closed the opening, he shrugged his shoulders a couple times, working out the soreness.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter.

Being up on a plateau, it was unlikely most of the bigger predators would find their way here.

As long as they kept their eyes out for snakes, they would probably be fine.

He rolled to his back, relishing the soft luxury of the moss.

He thought of the birds he’d spotted the day before that formed wedges of dark angles in the sky, of the wet earth and slick rocks where the snakes had hidden.

Waiting patiently as the rainwater coaxed life out of hiding.

Absently, he scanned the hut, coming up with the answer he already knew—they had nothing to treat snake venom.

Reluctantly, he sat up and reached for his boots.

He laced them over his ankles, ignoring the blisters on his toes, and slid the nicked and damaged knife into the sheath.

He rolled to his knees and wrapped his belt around his waist, checking to make sure his hunting knife was secure before he lifted the woven door.

Damn woman was going to get into trouble.

He stepped out quietly, keeping his profile low as he surveyed the landscape.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle.

Still enough to discourage pursuit, but any more and they would need to abandon the hut and get moving.

Likely, it would be necessary to chop the vines down in order to remove what was a stark indication of their presence here.

He looked for a gap in the clouds, anything that would indicate that this bout of rain was done.

Instead, he saw only dark grey skies—a sure sign that more was on the way. They were still safe, for now.

Rumi danced in a muddy puddle, her head thrown back and arms stretched out behind her.

She twirled in a wet, soggy circle, a high-pitched bubbly laugh seeming to dance with her.

It was such a bright sound.

Her dark hair swirled like a long skirt that twisted around her shoulders and her feet kicked up fat droplets of mud onto her calves where she’d rolled up her pant legs.

His cheeks tightened involuntarily, and he willed the grin from his face.

Reflexively, he scanned the horizon.

He spotted a pair of rabbits, a group of quail, all frozen in the moment.

All waiting for her to complete her dance, enthralled by the unadulterated joy of her movement.

A hawk circled lazily overhead, drifting on the warm currents and weaving between raindrops.

Even here, nature heard her.

Recognized her.

Celebrated her.

Callum truly hoped she was innocent.

She needed to be back where she belonged.

In the rainforest, not a prison.

Where she and her mate could—the smile tickled at the corners of his mouth again—do whatever was their custom.

Despite his best efforts, the smirk won the battle, claiming the territory from scruffy cheek to scruffy cheek.

She was joyful, despite being so far from home. And more and more, he found himself entertaining that idea. That this was somehow a misunderstanding.

Her spinning came to a sudden halt, her eyes crashing into his.

A crimson flush washed over her neck and cheeks, turning her ears bright red at being caught.

A flash of something familiar sang through his mind, there and gone like mist in the sun.

She hesitated for a moment, waffling in the muddy puddle.

He saw the instant she decided and pranced to him.

Her movement was shy and awkward, a bit jerky, but she managed to slip her fingers into his.

They were warm to the touch and surprisingly calloused.

She looked up at him with an unguarded expression that was reminiscent of hope, rain streaking the dirt on her face.

“Can you feel it?”

Her voice was hushed, awed at the change in scenery.

“The song? Does it not make you want to join in?”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

It was all he could do to just watch.

Did he feel…it? He certainly felt something, but he was sure it wasn’t what she was referring to.

“I’m not sure I understand,”

he replied.

“Come dance with me?”

She gave his hand a tug.

“Is this a rain dance?”

He forced a laugh to hide his genuine curiosity, “Or a…Will you demonstrate the proper way to dance?”

Cal tipped his missing hat and nodded his chin as he followed her onto the muddy plateau.

Rumi grinned up at him, her cheeks turning a rosy pink.

“It is just…play.

Do you never play, Colonel?”

“Callum.

Call me Callum.

Or just Cal.”

A wide grin broke over her face and her teeth pressed dimples into her bottom lip.

The sudden urge to kiss it slammed into him.

He faltered a step, grateful Rumi had turned away.

She kicked her feet through the mud, splashing speckles of wet dirt into the air.

Then she spun with an upturned face.

“Hold out your tongue!”

She instructed.

“Now spin! Or kick or jump! Don’t think about it, just do what feels good.”

She laughed again and continued her dance with wild abandon, not waiting to see if he followed suit.

Cal stomped his boot in a puddle, sending muddy droplets exploding around him.

Then he kicked the puddle.

This, indeed, was not as natural to him as it was her.

Her laughter rang out over the desert floor, light twinkling in her eyes.

She twirled in the splatters his kick threw in the air with an exuberance he hadn’t seen from her before.

Rain dripped down her face, long trickles that made her skin shimmer, and plastered her hair to her cheeks.

He committed the moment to memory, vowing to capture this and save it to treasure in his book, her dance forever immortalized in charcoal.

She paused, her eyes bouncing between his as he stared.

Her joy turned shy and timid, making her duck her chin and look away.

“Do you know what these are?”

She asked, bending down and brushing her fingers over a lovely pink flower with pointy petals.

“And that one over there, with the thin thorns.”

He identified each of the plants peeping out from cracks in the rain-flooded plateau, offering scientific and common names, plus any uses the plants provided.

The pink flower could be used as a tea for stomach aches.

The thorny one had a mild neurotoxin.

It caused a localized numbing in a human, so it was harvested to treat toothaches and prepare flesh wounds that needed to be closed.

He described the insects and reptiles that scuttled across the wet stones, explaining their contribution to the ecosystem.

As the morning warmed the desert, Cal taught her how to make a blow dart from the barbed black thorns of a cactus and the hollow stem of another plant.

They practiced blowing the thorn-dart from the reed first at pebbles, then at a beetle.

He laughingly insisted that her hunting skills had provided dinner.

***

They returned to their hut as the day grew hotter and the air turned muggy and thick, the rain falling in syrupy droplets.

Rumi sat on her bed with her legs crossed, bent over a bow she was crafting, intent on showing him how she would hunt.

Her hair was still damp and hung in a loose braid over her shoulder, and her clothing clung to her skin, much like his did.

He scratched at his chin, the sweat and dirt combined with stubble making his skin crawl uncomfortably.

He needed a bath and a shave.

His eyes followed the motion of her knife as she carved into the material of her bow and a curl fell to the ground.

He watched with half an eye, recalling the bite of her blade between his ribs, as she carved another weapon.

But he knew what beasts might await in the desert.

He was also fairly certain she was past the stabbing phase.

The stabbing Cal phase, anyway, he hoped.

Cal peered out the door and shook his head sadly with a grave sigh.

“We’ll have to stay put until the rain stops.

Traveling in such a downpour ain’t safe.

‘Specially trying to get down from this ridge…Best get comfortable, Miss Rumi, we’re gonna be here for a bit.”

She didn’t stop crafting, but offered a single glance from beneath her lashes, the darkness in her eyes sparkling.

“Are you certain this is not just another ploy to keep me prisoner and learn the secrets of my people?”

Callum chuckled and pushed the hair from his eyes—it was getting too long—as he gave a one-shouldered shrug.

He had learned more from her in the last day than he’d discovered in the week he’d had her on the ship.

He’d just needed her trust.

His brow dropped over his eyes and he opened his mouth to object but caught sight of the sly smile tugging at her lips.

“Of course it is, Miss Rumi,”

he said, covering his own smile with his hand and stroking the stubble on his chin.

“Now that I know the key to earning your cooperation is nudity and sporadic rain dances, I intend to make use of this information to the fullest.”

A bright laugh bounced from her lips, the carefree sound surprising both of them.

She met his eyes, still smiling, and he held her gaze.

He’d never seen eyes like hers.

Soulful and deep, like peering into the depths of a well and wishing, careening forward into an inky blackness.

Her hands stilled.

His heart flipped against his ribcage, the intensity of the sudden emotion making him uneasy.

A soft hoot from just outside capsized the moment and Rumi dropped her gaze, returning to her crafting as a blush crept up her neck.

Cal cleared his throat and shook his head to send away the thoughts that had taken root there.

What even was that? Cal leaned back and rubbed at the scruff on his chin, letting the coarse hair scraping on his palm ground him.

He hoped she was innocent, but the fact remained that she may not be, and he needed to keep his guard up.

“What would you like to know?”

she asked softly, her eyes flicking to him briefly.

“I cannot promise to tell you everything, but I can share some.

Perhaps it will help you believe in me and in my innocence.”

That stunned him.

“Why now?”

Cal asked, shifting to face her again.

This time, she put her bow down and looked him right in the eye.

“I suppose it is because I find you tolerable.

And if I am to die out here, I should like to think that someone would…well…know what happened.

And you saved my life.”

“Twice.”

He held up two fingers with a smirk.

“Twice,”

she agreed.

“Maybe start at the beginning,”

Callum said, his smirk still on his face.