Page 186 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER ONE

Sam

N o matter how many times I insist on doing the washing up after a meal, I still have to fend off several raskarrans as they practically fight with each other to help me.

“Let me do my part,” I tell them, laughing as I shoo them off with a spoon. Hardly an effective weapon, but they scurry away all the same.

It’s no different today as I prepare to wash up for the last time here at Walset’s village.

The huts are all closed up, the things Walset’s tribe wish to bring into their new life all in crates and bags, only these bowls and spoons, and the large pot used to make broth left to pack.

And the usual queue of raskarrans forms in front of me, ready to lend a hand.

I point to one of them, then to the broth pot, giggling as he rushes to heft it into his arms. The rest I wave away, and they all grin at me, eyes bright with amusement, before inclining their heads and getting out of my way.

I lift the stack of bowls and spoons, then follow my eager helper to the river.

It’s much closer than the small brook that Gregar’s tribe use for fresh water.

Walset’s village is built close to the banks on a particularly curved point of the river’s path.

The great waterway flanks the village on three sides, leaving only one pathway in and out.

Right at the back of the village, opposite to the path Maldek and I walked down a few days ago as we approached the tribe for the first time, there’s a shallow section that slopes gradually down towards the fast, deep water.

Walset’s tribe use this area for all their cleaning needs.

Washing pots, washing clothes, but also washing themselves.

A few times I’ve been minding my own business, scraping the bowls clean with the rough moss that passes for a sponge here in the forest, when I’ve looked up to catch an eyeful of a naked raskarran, as they clean off after a long day of hunts or patrols.

Liv wasn’t lying when she said these guys have really big dicks.

I’m still none the wiser on whether they know how to use them.

There are no naked raskarrans today, though. Once these bowls are clean, it’s time for us to go.

“Are you going to miss this place?” I ask.

My helper, a younger guy called Hafsan, who’s as sweet as raskarrans come, gives me a puzzled look, answering in his own language with a little shrug.

I gesture at the village, then bring a knuckle to the corner of my eye, jutting out my bottom lip in an attempt to look sad. Hafsan laughs, but then turns thoughtful as he looks back at the village - the only place he’s known his whole life. The place he’s about to leave behind.

For me. Well, for us. To protect us girls from the raskarrans who would do us harm.

And maybe, just maybe, to find their mates.

Hafsan nods, repeating my ‘sad’ gestures, before patting my head affectionately and breaking out into a dazzling smile.

He’s such a cutie, and he’s got great bone structure - high, proud cheekbones and a chiselled jawline that is just begging for someone to plant a line of kisses along it.

Okay, he’s a little too sweet for me, but he’d make a great mate for someone.

“You’re going to be a hit with the girls, Hafsan,” I tell him, as I rinse each of my bowls in the shallows.

“That big old smile of yours, those cute little dimples it makes in your cheeks. They’d be crazy not to want you for their mate.

I’ll introduce you. Let them all know what a sweetheart you are. ”

He’d be good for Lorna, I think. That poor thing has had a rough time of it since we crashed here, nearly dying because of her broken arm. She could use someone eager to please, ready to wait on her hand and foot.

I’m busy picturing the adorable chubby babies they’d make when my mind wanders back to my own mate. I was so sure when I arrived in this village that my mate would be waiting for me, but no. No dreams, no mate, no night after night of mind-blowing sex.

No mate yet, I say to myself.

Everything has a bright side, my dad used to say.

When we were starving on the beach, it was difficult to think of what the bright side of that could possibly be.

Dying free, under a blue sky, to the sound of the ocean?

Sure, it would have been better than dying one of the many horrible ways bottom tier workers usually went out.

But dammit, I’d been promised a new life on Alpha Colony. I wanted that life. I wanted to live.

Then the raskarrans saved us and the bright side of all this was suddenly obvious. A big, gorgeous green guy, ready to worship me in our shared dreams? Yes, please.

But none of Gregar’s tribe are for me. None of Walset’s either. I walked all this way, hoping that one of these guys would be waiting in my dreams, but no such luck.

I look at the trees that stretch as far as the eye can see on the opposite side of the river. He’s out there somewhere, my mate. I know it. Fate wouldn’t have dumped me on this planet full of alien hotties if there wasn’t one here meant for me.

The bowls and spoons don’t take much cleaning.

With Hafsan’s help, they’re all done in a few minutes.

I shake the loose water from the spoons, stack the bowls together, then rise to my feet, looking at this little patch of the river for the last time.

Hafsan takes a moment, too, a forlorn look crossing his handsome face.

We head back to the central fire of Walset’s village to find it isn’t burning anymore.

The elders have lifted mud from the riverbank and used it to smother the flames, dousing the last bit of life left in the village.

A morose atmosphere has come over the normally jolly gathering place and the weight of it settles on my shoulders, reminding me of the enormity of what we’ve asked Walset and his tribe to do.

I’m thrown back to the day I was drawn in the Alpha Colony Lottery - the elation I felt that there was a chance I could have a better life, something more than just the drudgery and pain of bottom tier living.

But there was a sadness underneath it as well.

A sorrow that I would be leaving behind everything I know.

All the little places and things that would trigger a memory of the things my dad used to say.

There’s always a bright side to everything.

Problems are best solved one step at a time.

The best thing you can give a person is a smile.

I thought leaving meant forgetting. Losing that connection I had to him. But the raskarrans do stuff that reminds me of those little bits of Dad wisdom all the time. Leaving behind the place that gave me a physical connection didn’t mean losing that connection at all.

I’m sure Walset’s tribe will find the same, but for now they’re in the mourning phase, looking at all those places that are insignificant to everyone else, but hold some special place in their hearts. Feeling the wrench and pull in their chest to be leaving them behind.

Maldek comes to stand beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly, and we wait together as Walset’s tribe have this moment.

Walset steps out of the crowd and turns to address his tribe.

He’s not like Gregar - doesn’t have that big, commanding presence.

A hunter, not a warrior, Walset is quieter, but no less in charge.

It’s obvious that his tribe have a lot of respect for him and they all stand silent as he speaks, nodding in response, clenching their fists over their hearts.

As soon as Walset finishes talking, it’s like the mood snaps and shifts, the raskarrans immediately heading for the piles of things that we need to carry across the forest. They each shoulder enormous bags containing their clothes, their furs, and all the things we’ll need to survive the journey.

Then they divide the crates up between them, carrying some using two branches that slot through the sides, resting on broad shoulders.

Others they drag behind us on strong vine nets.

I pick up my own puny pack, containing only my clothes, my furs and nothing else.

I wish I could do more, wish my back was broad enough to bear some of the weight.

But all I can do is my small part, such as it is.

Then, with no more ceremony, we set off on our journey home.

Travel was slow going from Gregar’s village to Walset’s. I walked as far as I could each day, and as quick as I could, but there’s no way to compensate for the fact my legs are half the length of Maldek’s. Now, we move even slower, held up by the difficulty of transporting the crates.

It gives me a bit of a break. It’s still a fast enough pace that I’ll be tired by the end of the day, but I don’t have to push myself too hard.

I have the energy to look around me; really take in the forest's beauty - the enormous height of the trees towering above us, the vines dangling from branches, the bushes close to the riverbank with vibrantly coloured flowers. So much beauty everywhere.

I never really noticed it when we were walking back from the beach.

Exhausted as we all were, just putting one foot in front of the other was enough to occupy every part of our minds.

I couldn’t focus on the scenery while my awful Mercenia boots rubbed at my heels until they bled.

Couldn’t enjoy the sound of birdsong, or the wind rustling the trees while my stomach cramped around every mouthful of food I ate.

I don’t have those problems now. I wear a pair of supple raskarran boots on my feet that move perfectly with me as I walk.

A hearty breakfast sits in my belly, on top of the enormous feast we had to use up everything that wouldn’t travel well the night before.

I know we’ve got a lot of travelling ahead of us, and I’ll probably be desperate for a proper bed and a day of rest by the end of it, but right now I feel amazing.

Alive and well and in the company of good friends.