Page 24 of Yasmin and the Yeti (Alien Abduction #25)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
C onsciousness returned to Yasmin in waves. First came sensation—the feel of soft furs beneath her, the scent of herbs and smoke, the sound of low, rumbling voices. Then came awareness of her body, the terrible weakness in her limbs, the cold sweat on her skin, the ache deep in her bones.
She forced her eyes open. The world swam into focus—a cave, larger than Rhaal’s, its walls lined with shelves of clay pots and bundles of dried plants. The ceiling glittered with clusters of glow crystals, bathing everything in a soft, amber glow.
“She wakes,” came a gravelly female voice.
She managed to turn her head, the movement requiring far more effort than it should have.
A Hothian female stood nearby, her eyes sharp and assessing.
The one who had come to their cave—the healer.
Behind her loomed Rhaal, his big body tense with fear, his glowing eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart ache.
“Rhaal,” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp.
He was at her side in an instant, dropping to one knee beside the fur-lined pallet. One huge hand gently stroked her hair back from her damp forehead, his touch feather-light.
“I’m here.”
The healer moved to a workbench, her movements efficient despite her age. Yasmin watched through half-lidded eyes as she mixed ingredients in a stone mortar, grinding them with practiced precision. The scent of crushed herbs filled the air, mingling with something sharper, more pungent.
“What happened?” she asked, struggling to piece together her fragmented memories. She remembered helping Rhaal in their cave, and then… nothing.
“Sick,” Rhaal said, his voice tight.
The healer approached, carrying a small clay cup filled with a shimmering blue liquid. It caught the light strangely, seeming to glow from within.
“Drink,” the healer commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Sothiti. It will help.”
Rhaal carefully lifted her head, supporting her as the healer brought the cup to her lips. The liquid looked almost alive, swirling in the cup like a miniature whirlpool.
She hesitated, but the desperate hope in Rhaal’s eyes convinced her. She parted her lips and allowed the healer to tip the cup.
The sothiti flowed onto her tongue—warm and earthy, with an underlying sweetness that reminded her of honey but wasn’t quite the same.
As it slid down her throat, warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading outward through her limbs.
It wasn’t just warmth, but a spark of energy, of life itself, flowing through her veins, chasing away the bone-deep chill that had gripped her.
She gasped at the sensation, her back arching slightly off the furs. Rhaal’s hand tightened on her shoulder, his expression a mixture of hope and terror.
“Good,” the healer murmured, watching her reaction with clinical interest. “The sothiti takes hold.”
The effect was almost immediate. The fog in her mind began to clear, the weakness in her limbs receding. She took a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand fully for the first time since she’d collapsed. The relief was so profound that tears sprang to her eyes.
“What is that?” she asked, her voice already stronger.
The healer set the empty cup aside. “Sothiti. Life-water. It counters the illness.”
“What illness?”
The healer’s eyes flickered briefly to Rhaal before returning to her. “Winter Womb. Sickness that affects pregnant females. Bodies reject the cub.”
Rejecting the baby. The words sent a chill through her. “Because I’m human?”
To her surprise, the Healer shook her head. “No. Hothians too.”
“But the sothiti helps?” she asked, seeking reassurance.
The female’s face remained carefully neutral. “For now. Temporary only. Need regular doses until birth.”
Relief flooded through her, followed quickly by concern. The healer’s face was too blank and Rhaal still looked worried. “Is there a problem?”
Again, that significant look between the Healer and Rhaal.
“Sothiti scarce,” the healer said finally. “Supply low. Very low.”
Rhaal put a reassuring hand around hers. “Will find more,” he promised.
The healer moved to a shelf and retrieved a small clay pot. She removed the lid, revealing more of the shimmering blue liquid.
“Last of personal store,” she said, handing it to Rhaal. “Enough for seven days. Maybe eight.”
She struggled to sit up, Rhaal’s hand instantly supporting her back. “I don’t understand. Why is it scarce? Can’t you make more?”
The healer sighed, suddenly looking every year of her considerable age. She settled onto a low stool, her joints creaking audibly.
“Sothiti comes from cave fish,” she explained. “Always plenty.”
“Until recently,” Rhaal added, his voice grim.
The healer nodded. “Months now, fewer fish. Many dead. Bad sign.”
She looked at them in horror. “So the source of this medicine that I need to survive is disappearing?”
“Yes,” the healer confirmed. “Clan needs sothiti too. Not just for pregnancy. For many illnesses. And the Empire demands a quota.”
“The Empire?” she asked, the word sending a chill through her that had nothing to do with her condition.
Rhaal’s expression darkened. “Empire protects planet. Keeps offworlders away. In return, we provide sothiti.”
“And if you don’t meet the quota?”
“Protection ends,” the healer said simply. “Planet open to outsiders. Miners. Slavers. Anyone.”
She shuddered at the thought of those who had captured her showing up on Hothrest.
“Hunters trace river to source,” the healer continued. “Deep in mountains. Find nothing. No reason for fish to die.”
Rhaal squeezed her hand, then stood. “Will find reason,” he declared, his voice hard with determination. “Will fix.”
The healer looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Many have tried.”
“Not me,” he growled.
She reached for his hand again, alarmed by what she was hearing. “Rhaal, wait. This sounds dangerous.”
He bent over her, his glowing eyes intent on her face. “Must do this. For you. For cub.”
“For clan,” the healer added quietly.
She could almost see the weight of responsibility settle on his broad shoulders. This wasn’t just about her and their baby. The entire clan—the people who had cast him out, who had blamed him for his sister’s death—needed him now.
“How long will I need to stay here?” she asked the healer.
“Until Rhaal returns.” The healer glanced at him. “She rest now. You prepare.”
He hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave her side.
“Go,” she told him softly. “I’ll be fine.”
He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “Will return,” he promised. “With answer.”
“I know you will,” she whispered. “But be careful.”
He kissed her then, a gentle press of his lips against hers, mindful of his fangs, and the tenderness of it brought tears to her eyes.
“Rest,” he rumbled against her mouth. “Grow strong. Protect our cub.”
Then he was gone, ducking through the cave entrance, his determined stride carrying him quickly out of sight.
The healer watched him go, then turned back to Yasmin with an assessing gaze. “He changed,” she observed. “Less broken.”
She met the elderly female’s eyes. “He was never broken,” she said firmly. “Just wounded.”
The healer’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “Perhaps.” She moved to adjust the furs around Yasmin. “Rest now. Sothiti works, but body needs sleep.”
As the healer moved away, she sank back into the furs, the lingering warmth of the sothiti pulsing through her veins. Her hand rested protectively over her belly, over the tiny life growing there—half human, half Hothian, wholly a miracle.
“We’ll be okay,” she whispered to her unborn child. “Your father will make sure of it.”
Outside, beyond the healer’s cave, she could hear the murmur of voices—the clan members discussing the return of their exile, the human female he had brought with him, the crisis they all faced.
She wondered what reception Rhaal would receive as he moved amongst them, preparing for his journey into the mountains.
The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her was the small clay pot of sothiti sitting on a nearby shelf—seven or eight days’ worth of life, shimmering with ethereal blue light. Not enough. Not nearly enough for the months that stretched ahead.