wondering if they woke before I did somehow, but their footsteps move to the distant water's edge and disappear. I lean in and inhale; their scents are stale and old.
They planned this, then. They had no intention of returning to the camp with us.
I want to be angry, but in truth, I understand Juth's reluctance. It is change, and change is not necessarily welcomed. He has gone through enough in the past few turns of the moon—we all have—that change is not welcomed. I suspect he has planned this all along. Our agreement was that he would return R'ven in exchange for food supplies for himself and his son. I did not think such an agreement was necessary if he was to be joining the mix of tribes, but I see now why he insisted.
Clever, that one. I can still hold up my end of the bargain, at least. I will set supplies out for him a short distance from camp and see if he arrives to take them. Something tells me that he will. Something tells me that he has been watching our camp for some time, and looked for an opportunity to bargain with us, and R'ven was the opportunity he sought.
I am oddly relieved he has never shown interest in claiming her as his mate, like the Tall Horn clan members M'tok and S'bren when they stole females. They stole them to ensure resonance; Juth stole R'ven to barter for supplies. I glance over at my female—not mine, I remind myself—and that is when I notice it.
The fur I loaned Juth and Pak to sleep in is gone.
So is my pack.
I make a sound of frustration, because inside that pack were my striking stones for making fire, my knife, my net, rope, and the last of my food stuffs. Everything is gone except the fur R'ven is wearing right now, and my tunic.
"U'dron?" R'ven sits up, yawning. "What's wrong?"
Sand is on her cheek, and I absently reach over to brush it off, skimming my fingers along her soft skin. I realize what I am doing and freeze, and R'ven shrinks away. Fool, I tell myself. She does not want you. She has learned your secret and does not welcome the touch of a male who is not a true hunter. She is not yours to touch.
My voice is flat with anger—at myself—as I answer her. "Juth and Pak have left in the middle of the night and taken all our supplies."
"They what?" Her eyes widen and she looks over in surprise at the now empty shelter. "Oh no. They were supposed to come back with us. How are they going to take care of themselves out here if they're all alone?" She sounds so miserable at the thought, her soft heart worried for them. "We need to find them."
"I do not think they want to be found."
As if agreeing with us, the skies open up and begin to pelt ice down upon us. R'ven scoots farther under the shelter, and I quickly join her, stepping out of the bad weather.
R'ven curls her legs up, tucking the fur around her body, her brows furrowed. "You're sure they're gone? What if…what if they got lost?"
"He did not get lost. He did not wish to return with us."
Her expression turns sad. "It would be so much better for them if they did. Poor Pak." After a moment, she adds, "Poor Juth."
I am amazed at how she can still feel sympathy for them. I move farther under the flimsy shelter, even as the ice pellets ping against it, coating the ground with tiny frozen white balls. They hammer against the wood and slip through the cracks, smacking against us like pebbles. "You still take their side?"
"Well, yeah." She gives me a wounded expression. "They've had a shitty hand dealt to them and they're surviving the only way they know how. I just want them to have a good life. I want to help them."
"Even though they stole you?"
"People sometimes do bad things for good reasons," she says, and stares off at the ocean, deliberately avoiding looking at me. "Doesn't make them bad people."
I grunt. I try to imagine what Juth's life would have been like if he was part of a clan. He would not have such a wary expression on his face. He would not snatch at food offered to him or put out fires. He would not watch my possessions with such an avid stare. I noticed how he