Raven's Return - Ruby Dixon Page 0,1

goes for right now, too.

It's why I modulate my voice to the sweeter tone I've adopted since coming to the ice planet. "Guys? Who's out there? Anyone? It's me, Raven."

There's no response. Okay, well, I have two options. I can stay in this cave and freeze my tits off, or I can try to find a way out.

I shuffle forward, feeling around until I see light. Then, I head toward it and come out into open air. It's nighttime, and the stars are out overhead. It's not much warmer out here, and there's a stiff breeze. More than that, though, there's enough light for me to get a good look around at where I am.

I'm on the beach.

That part's not surprising. The part that is a little alarming is that this is a different part of the beach than I've ever seen before. Here, the cliffs are tall and menacing and offer no way up their steep sides. I look around, but the only way to get off this sliver of beach that I'm on is…through the water. And since it's slushy with ice and teeming with all kinds of terrifying things, that's a hard pass for me. Shivering, I cross my arms and take a few steps down the beach, looking around. My boots are soggy and wet, squishing with every step I take. The tide is in, and at the edge of the water, there's a ton of debris and junk piled up. It's as if shit's been washing up on the shore for weeks and weeks and no one's bothered to clean it off or gather it, which is…weird. I pick up a piece of wood that looks sturdy, and then another piece. All of this wood is good stuff if it's taken out of the water and dried out. The beach over by our camp has been picked clean, with all of the guys gone hut-building-crazy.

That makes me think of U'dron again, because he's hinted he built his hut for me. I giggled and said nothing, escaping away without responding, but I've kept that tidbit close to my heart for weeks now. I can't take him up on the offer, but it's still kind of lovely to think about.

Wherever I am, the tribe hasn't been here. None of the clans—Shadow Cat, Tall Horn, or Strong Arm—have been here. And that's a little terrifying. If they don't know where I am, how can they find me?

"Hello?" I call again, a little more desperately. "Can anyone hear me?"

How did I get to this place? This isn't motherfucking Narnia. I can't go through a door to another world. This is an ice planet. I'm starting to panic, and I force myself to calm down.

You've got this, Raven. You know how to survive. Build a fire, like the others showed you. Warm up, and then you can figure out where the hell you are in the morning when it's warmer.

Warmer. Hah.

I change my mental note to “Less Shittily Cold” and go with it.

I pick up a second piece of wood, pulling it out of the pile, and then toss it back down. Too wet. If I'm going to start a fire from scratch—somehow—it needs to be dry. God. In this moment, I wish I'd picked a better fake persona than a hippie love child. I haven't gone hunting like the others. I've barely made fire. I help with the cooking and skinning and gathering, but I'm feeling woefully inadequate right now. If I ever do this again, the next Raven is going to be a bad bitch. Being likable doesn't do shit when you're stranded on a beach alone.

I pick up another piece of wood, then straighten and pause.

A figure steps out from behind some of the wreckage, hopping down over the piles of driftwood and pacing toward me.

It's a child, I realize, as the figure approaches, though it doesn't look like any of the kids back at camp. His eyes are khui blue and glow in the spooky way all of our eyes glow in the dark. It's hard to see due to the shadows, but I'm also pretty sure he doesn't have four arms. He doesn't look human, either, though. There’s a strange flatness to his features that marks him as alien, as do the tiny horns at his brow and the shock of wild pale hair that sticks right up from his head like a flame. Not quite human, but he doesn’t quite match the aliens I’ve