realize what she had done until it was too late. There was not much of her left to save.”
“Yikes. Poor Z’hren.” She pats me again, a look of utter sympathy on her face.
“Kaari are very territorial. Smart, too. They think if they kill another predator they can take their territory, and this one had killed I’chai, so he would not leave. He lurked around our encampment, making it unsafe for us to live there. It was either confront it and kill it or move, and we had lost enough. N’dek and I thought we would hunt it ourselves, while K’thar watched over Z’hren. K’thar did not like this idea, so we told him we would not do it…and then snuck out anyhow. We set a trap for the kaari, made a rope net out of vines so when he walked over it, it would ensnare him and we could dispatch him easily. So N’dek and I waited, and the kaari walked into our trap.” My stomach clenches, and I still can taste the emotions of that day, the unease in my gut, the worry and anxiety, the heavy scent of the trees in the air, and the meaty, foul smell of the kaari itself. “The ropes broke within moments and then we stood directly in front of an angry, attacking kaari.” I swallow hard. “Remember that I told you I would throw first and think later? I did that again. I saw it reach for N’dek with its big teeth and crushing jaws and I knew it would kill him, so I threw. And I missed. It grabbed him by his leg, bit down, and crushed it in one bite. His scream was horrible.”
She puts her cheek on my arm, hugging my arm to her. “I’m so sorry.”
“My second spear hit, but then it was too late. I thought N’dek would die and it would be my fault. I put him on my back and carried him through the jungle, back to the home tree, and it was many, many handfuls of days before we realized N’dek would live. Sometimes I think he does not want to live at all, and that is my fault, too.”
“It was an accident,” H’nah says gently. “Hunting is dangerous. You can’t blame yourself. You saved his life.”
“But if my spear had flown true the first time—if I had stopped to think instead of just blindly throwing—it would not have happened. He was counting on me to be a good hunter and I failed him.”
She shakes her head, looking up at me. “You didn’t fail him. At least I don’t think you did. Does N’dek blame you?”
“No…but he should.”
“And K’thar?”
“No.”
“So you blame yourself but no one else does.” She nudges me with her shoulder, almost playfully. “Remember how you said I was stuck in the past? Maybe I’m not the only one.”
I look over at her thoughtfully, at the twin tails of her mane that frame her jaw, the indention in her cheek that only comes out when she smiles, like she is right now. “And how do we fix this?”
She smiles brilliantly up at me and her gaze slides to my mouth. My khui sings loudly, and I wonder if she will put her lips on mine like K’thar and L’ren do. I want to taste her so badly. I remember her taste from before, and today it would be tinged with fruit and her sweet flavor, and I want this more than anything in the world.
But she does not put her lips to mine. She pats my arm, as if encouraging a kit. “We look to the future. We accept that we can’t change the past and try to make the world here a better place.”
“Accept the past,” I repeat, wonder if she means that for herself, too. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure yet.” The cave goes dark again, and a moment later, it sputters to life once more. She looks up, a determined expression on her face. “But first, I think we should fix that fucking light.”
That is not the answer I was hoping for, but I like the look on her face. “Let us do it.”
12
J’SHEL
“Don’t you dare drop me,” H’nah shrieks in my ear, her arms chokingly tight around my neck.
“I have you,” I tell her, just as I have told her every step of the way up.
We are near the top of the cave itself, where the light shines down brightly and the vines grow thickest.