Forged (Star Breed #10) - Elin Wyn Page 0,16

and started digging around what was left of the footwell in the front.

“Here, let me get that for you.” I just pulled the entire seat out. It was easier, and gave her more room to work. And we weren’t going to be flying away anytime soon. Not in that ship.

It was the logical thing to do, but still, probably a mistake.

She stared at me. I shrugged.

“It started rocking pretty hard when we descended,” I explained. “It seemed an easy bet it wasn’t that firmly attached anymore. And right now, everything is pretty much scrap.”

“Sure,” she replied, voice doubtful.

I carried the seat into the shade of the cliffside and leaned it against the rock.

By the time I came back, she’d opened a small hatch in the ship’s deck. “Some emergency rations,”

She offered up a box. “I didn’t really expect I’d need them, but enough to get us through a few days.”

“Anything’s better than nothing,” I said. “I’ll have one later. What else can we use from here?”

In the end, I moved both seats, most of the communications equipment, and a pile of miscellaneous components into the quickly lengthening shade of the cliff.

“Night’s coming soon,” I commented. “We should think about shelter.”

Yasmin looked around. “I’m not seeing a lot of possibilities.”

There really wasn’t much to see. The desert stretched out endlessly, dotted with low, silvery green brush.

No rocks big enough to shelter under, except for the cliff that ran off in both directions. I’d be able to scale it to the top, not a problem.

Yasmin wouldn’t. We’d either need to make our way out across the desert, or pick a direction to explore and keep walking along the cliff.

Both options would have to wait until tomorrow.

And they didn’t help at all with the problem of freezing temperatures tonight.

“I wonder…” I muttered, studying the sad, stripped down craft.

It wouldn’t be comfortable, I finally decided. But it might work.

“You’re not emotionally attached to what’s left of that ship, are you?” I asked Yasmin.

She snorted. “I’m emotionally attached to surviving. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Yasmin

It was obvious we both had our secrets, I thought as I cut the fabric and upholstery off the pilot and passenger seats with a sharp piece of permasteel.

The evening was hot enough, I’d pulled off the top of my coveralls, wrapping the sleeves around my waist. No pretense of high fashion, not anymore.

Hakon had ripped the seats from the mangled body of the ship without even trying hard.

He’d torn off another, larger piece of permasteel, and was now using it to hack through the desert floor at the side of the wreck.

The destroyed jacket and slightly better-off shirt had been tossed to the side, and the interplay of muscles across his broad back kept catching my eye.

I shifted, turning away so I wouldn’t keep being so distracted.

This wasn’t the time or place.

But he was very, very distracting. My thoughts kept returning to how it had felt to be wrapped in his arms.

Safe, secure, even though every time seemed to be right before we were about to do something terribly dangerous.

“Ouch!”

I stared at the blood welling from my finger, and instinctively put it in my mouth.

Or tried to. Hakon had materialized by my side, his massive hand wrapped around my wrist. “Let me see that. We don’t know if there’s anything in the dirt here that might infect it.”

“And how are you going to tell?” I shook my head.

“I’m not, but that goes on tomorrow’s list of projects,” he answered. “For now, let’s just rinse it and wrap it.”

My coveralls had survived more or less intact underneath the environmental suit. Hakon took the makeshift knife from me, and with surprising gentleness, cut away a small piece from one of the loose arms tied at my waist.

“I’m almost done with the trench,” he said.

I shook my head, confused at his speed, then realized how much longer the shadows had crept from the cliff into the desert. “I must have zoned out for a bit, sorry.” Blushing, I crossed my fingers, hoping he wouldn’t ask exactly what I’d been thinking about.

“Lucky for us both, it’s almost time for dinner, then bed,” he announced. “We’ll both be in better shape to deal with things in the morning.”

While he finished ripping apart the seats, I pulled the tabs on the rations, waited for them to heat, and poured out a bit more of our small reserve of water.

“I really hadn’t planned on an extended stay anywhere.” I arranged our dinner on a flat rock. Then