Page 19 of Warlord's Mate

She looked around the forest, and back toward camp but saw no one. Couldsheleave without being seen? Or was someone watching, and she just hadn’t noticed them?

Jorrick had given her a hard look before he left and now she wondered if he’d expected her to try to leave. There weren’t many men in camp today. Most had left. If there was a day to sneak away, it was this one.

She turned away from camp and looked into the distance. Celestia and the others were far enough away they’d not know she was gone until it was too late. Question was—where would she go? And how long before someone noticed she was gone and came looking for her?

The drop site was already crowded when they reached it. There were others waiting in the trees and gathered in small clusters all along the clearing. Their voices carried and was followed by the occasional burst of laughter. Jorrick scowled at them, crossing his arms over his chest. What did anyone have to be happy about here? In all the drops he’d ever been a part of, not once had he ever enjoyed it. After the first few, his mind grew numb to it all, and it was nothing more than a game of kill or be killed.

He looked into the sky. The craft dropping the supplies hovered in mid-air, the crate suspended by long cables. There was only one this time, which meant the fight would be brutal. No … with Aris missing, the fight would be dangerous. He was distracted, his mind occupied with thoughts of the foolishnincop. He should have given him a task to occupy his time better. He could have watched over the red one, made sure she was well cared for and in good health for when Allok came for her.

A shout echoed through the clearing. Someone had already started fighting. He enjoyed this less and less. If it weren’t for the girl, he probably wouldn’t have even bothered with the battle, especially seeing as so little was being offered but—she needed things. She had his shirts, but they were four sizes too large for her and she needed protection for her feet. He’d seen the way she tiptoed along the path and through camp. She wasn’t used to walking without proper foot protection. Her feet would toughen up over time but once the ground grew colder, and the wind howled through the mountains, she’d need more protection than his shirts and he’d never force anyone to walk in snow without anything on their feet. He may be known for his cruelty but he wasn’t a total monster.

The whirring sound of the ship’s engines overhead indicated they were about to drop the crate. He looked at the others, meeting all their gazes. Some of them wouldn’t make it. They’d never gone to battle for a drop and not lost someone and he didn’t think today would be an exception.

His men grabbed their weapons, everyone on their feet now and he did the same, looking across the clearing at the others waiting for the bloodshed to start. He gripped the blade in his hand tighter and let his anger at Aris leaving camp when he told him not to build until it filled him with fury, then let his constant worry over the new female, when he wanted nothing more than to forget about her, fill him with rage. When the cables holding the crate clanked, the box falling through the air, his voice joined the others as they all roared and ran for the clearing.

Chapter Seven

Leaving had been nothing but wishful thinking. The moment Marcy got too far away from camp, the rustling in the trees had drawn her attention and she saw that they were indeed being watched.

Several aliens were perched on platforms built around the branches. They reminded her of deer stands hunter's back on earth used, the only difference being these encircled the entire tree, giving them the ability to walk around it and see in every direction. They were lookout stations. Or she assumed they were.

They’d been herded back to camp, their foraged goods taken to the females small hut to be sorted, cut, and cleaned. They spent half the morning prepping what they’d found and by the time the sun was directly overhead, Marcy’s back ached from being hunched over on the low-lying stool she sat on.

She straightened and stretched, her back popping before she sighed in relief. “Do you ever get tired of this?”

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of this …” She motioned to the numerous baskets at their feet. “Tired of doing nothing from sunup to sun down but exactly what someone tells you to?”

Sebera shrugged a shoulder. “I was taken so long ago, this is all I’ve ever known.”

“There will be more to do once the warlord returns with supplies.” Tezhila moved the full basket in front of her aside and put an empty one in its place. “We will either sort the goods they were able to attain or tend to the wounds they have.”

“Wounds?”

“Yes. The supply drops are brutal. They drop the crates from the sky and once they hit the ground, they bust open to reveal what’s inside. Most of the time it’s warm garments and medical supplies, some foodstuff and occasionally, weapons. Everyone runs to grab what they can and many fights happen, some fatal.”

The images popping into Marcy’s head were that of the opening scene in The Hunger Games, when they’d all made a mad dash to grab whatever they could and not die trying. She’d seen the aliens in The Chase when they were dropped there and most of them had looked rabid. How brutal would the fighting be for basic necessities? Getting a female was a luxury item but simple, everyday items they all needed to survive? The drop zone would be pure chaos.

Commotion near the trees drew their attention moments before voices could be heard along with the occasional outburst of laughter. As if summoned by thought alone, the aliens who’d left for the supply drop returned, arms full of goods.

Marcy scanned those stepping into the clearing, looking for one alien in particular, then turned her head when she realized she was doing it. She needed to stop thinking about him. Just because he was easy on the eyes didn’t mean he was a nice guy. From what she’d heard, he was the complete opposite.

She picked up another of the large ear-like things they’d torn from the trees and began slicing it into smaller pieces and was able to ignore the returning men for less than two minutes. Looking back over her shoulder, she searched those heading across camp and saw Jorrick enter the clearing a few moments later. He headed straight for Jityria. No wonder the woman thought she was something special.

Jealous much?

Jorrick handed Jityria a handful of cloth and walked away, up towards the path to the pond. He was wearing someone else’s blood again, or she assumed it was someone else’s. He didn’t act as if he was hurt.

She raised her eyes to his face and jolted in shock when she saw he was looking at her and turned away quickly, staring back down at the baskets in front of her.Great.That was three times today he’d caught her staring at him.

Marcy pushed a loose strand of hair away from her face while glancing at the others. As usual, they had their heads down, working and minding their own business like always. The desire to look back over her shoulder was strong, but she refused to give Jorrick anymore attention. She’d looked like a starry-eyed teen enough for one day.

Movement to her left brought her head up. Jityria was walking her way, her hands full of material. As usual, she was wearing that sour look on her face.

She stopped beside her and tossed a bundle of cloth at her feet. “You are to go wash the stink off of you and get out of the warlord’s shirt.” She glanced at what she’d thrown down and smiled. “Wear that, if you can.”

Jityria walked away, her arms still filled with the cloth she assumed was more clothing. Marcy reached for what Jityria had dropped. It was nothing more than two scraps of brown material and a pair of flimsy sandals. She wouldn’t complain about the shoes. Walking around barefoot wasn’t fun but what the hell was she supposed to do with scraps of material? Jityria’s smiling face came back to mind. Her giving her nothing more than strips of cloth was exactly why she’d given it to her.That hateful heifer.