Raven's Return - Ruby Dixon Page 0,2

seen, either.

The mystery of the footprints has been solved, at least. Thank god.

The strange child tilts his head and watches me, then crouches on his haunches like a wild animal. He’s totally naked, I realize, despite the cold weather, and can’t be more than three or four years old.

Is he feral, then? How the hell did that happen?

"Hi there, cutie. Who are you?" I smile, my voice sweet, and hold a hand out to him. "Are you cold?"

His tail swishes back and forth, and as it stirs the sand like a brush, I realize that it’s much, much shorter than the alien tails I’ve seen. It’s stubby and bushy. He giggles at me and then scampers away on hands and knees, racing back to the piles of driftwood.

I straighten, wondering if I should chase him. As I do, I look up.

Another pair of eyes flare to life in the darkness. Bigger. Narrowed.

Menacing.

Uh oh. I stare at the second newcomer as he approaches and realize I am in some serious, serious shit. I'm not stranded on this beach alone. I'm here with an adult stranger, too. This has to be the dad of the kid…and he does not look thrilled to see me.

In the slightest.

I hesitate for a moment, terrified, and then decide to play it like I've played everything else. I adopt my “Raven” persona, smoothing out my features to a blissful smile that promises nothing but zen. "Hi there. I'm Raven."

The newcomer drops to a low crouch, watching me. His eyes are still narrowed with wariness, but I feel like I'm making progress.

"Can you take me home?" I ask. When that doesn't elicit a response, I try again. "Do you speak English? Sa-khui?" I try the few words I know in the alien tongue. Things like “hello” and “food” and “fire.”

The stranger reacts to none of them. He simply watches me.

"Okay then. I'm on the beach with a pair of strangers. I have no idea how I got here, and no one's talking. Cool." I sigh and pick up another piece of wood. "If you're not going to talk to me, let's at least build a fire, hm?"

The child tilts his head at me and breaks into a wide smile. For some reason, they don't feel like the enemy, and I smile back. I have no idea who they are, but maybe we can be friends. Maybe we can figure out how to get home before we turn into icicles. The kid reaches out and picks up a piece of wood, handing it to me. I take it, glancing over at his dad, and he hasn't moved. All righty then. I start humming the first song that pops into my head—Ginuwine's "Pony". It's a staple at any strip club and one of my go-tos. With a song in my head and a plan, I get to work.

Even if I can't build a fire, I can at least work on one. It beats laying around and freezing to death.

I gather wood until dawn, tossing it all into a pile farther up the beach. My teeth chatter and my wet clothes stick to my skin, so I peel off several layers and spread them out in the sand. After all, the kid and his dad aren't freezing despite the fact that they're wearing next to nothing, so I do the same. I'm uncomfortably cold, but it's somehow not as bad. I keep moving, too, singing and adding a little dancing step here and there to warm my body with a bit of cardio. The kid watches me with interest, handing me pieces of wood as I work.

The dad just watches me.

By the time the sun comes up, I'm wiped out. I have a decent pile of mostly dry wood from farther up the beach, and I've found a pair of rocks that can produce a spark when struck together. "See, I've learned something," I whisper to the world around me. I gather up some dried, needle-like grass that's fallen at the edges of the cliffs and use it for tinder. With a few strikes of the rocks, I make a spark.

The small boy makes a startled sound in his throat.

I look over. "What is it?"

But he only snaps his mouth shut and backs away a step. A moment later, the father comes over and ushers his child away with a scowl. Right. Okay.

I turn back to my fire-making and spark the rocks again. I lean over the tiny pile of smoking