Raven's Return - Ruby Dixon Page 0,34

hot yearning courses through me. We have been friends all this time, her and I. Good friends. Secret friends. I feel it is all slipping away, and I am helpless to stop it.

Something must change. But what? I cannot change my shame. I cannot hold a proving competition, because there is no island. There is no clan to rejoice in my triumph. There is no sky-claw to bring down with honor.

I am trapped in the past, even in this new place. It is unfair, and for a moment, frustration boils over inside me. The ice pings at my horns and smacks against my face in a steady rain, as if mocking me. Here is another thing that is wrong with this new world. The rain is frozen, the world is cold, and I do not fit in, even here. I pick up a large piece of wood, intending to bring it back for the fire. Instead, it falls apart when I touch it, half of it collapsing back onto the sand and leaving me with nothing but a waterlogged handful of mildew. With a growl of frustration, I kick it aside, watching as it skids over the ice like a raft.

That makes me pause. I put my hands on my hips and grunt at the sight of it. Well, if I am to be here with R'ven while we wait for the storm to finish, I suppose I can make a raft. I have been worried about how to keep her safe through the waters I swam in—she is smaller and does not camouflage, so she can be seen as easy prey for the water creatures. Add in the storm and her bad ankle, and it makes sense to wait another day and build a raft.

After all, a raft could keep her safe.

With a pleased grunt, I get to work.

11

U’DRON

Working with my hands is a good distraction. My anger and frustration ebb as I take it out on the wood, lifting great piles to look for less rotted pieces underneath. It has all sat on the beach for some time at this point, and several pieces are too destroyed by the constant saltwater to be used. It makes me grieve to see so much wreckage on the shore, surrounded by dead leaves and rotted vines. I even find the occasional carcass of a kaari in the mix, bloated and half-eaten by shell-wearing scavengers. This is all from my home, and to see it all heaped onto the shore to rot makes my spirit sad. I remember trees of heart-wood, and the leafy green bushes with bright yellow flowers and thick, prickly trunks. Now only the trunk remains, and everything is covered in a grimy layer of ash.

It takes some time before I pull out enough wood to make a decent raft, and even more time before I find a length of bristle-wood, which can be peeled into hardy strips and woven into rope. As I pull my supplies out of the debris, I find a branch of ground nuts, still attached to the branch itself in a thick cluster. My heart pounds at the sight of it, and I pick it up, shaking the nuts. There is no sound of sloshing inside, which means the contents might still be good. I sniff one, and the scent of it brings back memories of home, of my mother cracking one open with her knife and offering me half, a cheerful smile on her face, my little brother strapped to her back.

Loss hits me, and I stare down at the branch, numb with missing my family and my home. It has all been taken from me. Most days I can live with it, but sometimes a certain scent will hit and then the sadness seems never-ending. I want to toss the ground nuts aside so I do not have to smell them any longer, so the memories will leave.

But R'ven needs something to eat, and if they are still good, it will save me from fishing for our dinner. My head full of thoughts of the past, I grab the cluster of nuts and head toward the shelter.

To my surprise, there is a fire crackling in front of the shelter. R'ven teases a large log over the flames, glancing up at me as I arrive. "You built this?" I ask, astonished.

Her mouth flattens into a line. "Why is that so hard to believe? I can do things other than sing and dance."

Why does