different is knowing the future?”
“Ask her if we’ll ever get home,” Daphne added. A low rumble rolled through the older group. Wren wasn’t sure what to think. The ladies stood quietly sipping on their water.
Holding a small, but full pouch in his hand, a tribesman maybe ten years older than her, with many tattoos on his torso and a fierce scowl, approached the elders. He spoke to one of the male elders. The visitor spoke first, and all the elders gasped or raised their brows—and then looked at her.
Not prepared for such attention, Wren stepped back. Lilah scooted in front of her and crossed her arms over her chest, blocking Wren’s view of the newcomer. The group continued talking, the conversation becoming fervent.
Iridia grabbed the warrior by the arm, dodged the punch he threw and sent one of her own to his stomach. He grunted and stepped back, slightly bent. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his face down to hers.
Wren was scared to death for the short, but brave woman. That man could eat her for breakfast, but he didn’t make another move toward her, as she chewed him another asshole. Shit, she’d do just about anything to hear what the conversation was about, besides herself. Should she be worried?
The older woman had returned, now holding a small wooden bowl with what looked like catnip in it. She stopped in front of Wren, and the elder tilted her head to the side as far as it would go. Wren wasn’t sure if the woman was gesturing yes or no like Zee had taught her, or she just liked standing with her head sideways.
“Wren,” Lilah whispered, “why is her head like that?”
“Don’t know.” Wren smiled and moved her head slightly in the same direction. Was this a monkey see, monkey do thing? When her head matched the angle of the elder, the woman took a pinch of catnip and shoved it in her ear. “Hey,” Wren complained, returning her head to the normal position, but the woman’s finger was still pressing on it.
The woman grinned. “Does that bother you?” she asked, taking her hand away.
“Well,” Wren worked her jaw, trying to get the nip to settle, “it’s kinda weird.”
“Yes, of course,” the woman said. “It will fall out in time.”
Daphne poked her back, “Wren,” she whisper shouted, “you’re talking to her. How do you know what she said?”
Wren glanced back at Daph with a questioning expression. “She put kitty cocaine in my ear.”
“Oh,” Lilah added, “it does look like catnip, doesn’t it? I was thinking more along the lines of crazy weed.” Her cousin tipped her head to receive her weed. “Of all the ways to do pot in college, in my ear was never one that crossed my mind.” Wren elbowed her cousin to stop talking about that stuff in front of the adults.
The lady winked. “Oh, we have much better ingredients for that than this.”
Oh great. That’s all they needed was Lilah and the elders running around naked, high on pot, expressing their first amendment rights. She’d rather get back in the creek.
“How does that stuff make us understand you?” Wren asked.
“It is part of the grand magic of Gecire. Magic makes communication possible. It translates from one language to the other in your mind. When given the magic, you may speak to all.”
“Well, ain’t that some shit,” Lilah replied. “I would’ve killed for this in Spanish class.”
“But beware,” the elder continued, “not all words are interchangeable.”
“What do you mean?” Wren asked.
“If there is an item in your world that does not exist in ours, then we don’t understand.”
“Like if I say the word car,” Lilah answered, “then you get no word for it?”
“I get the word car from your language even though that word doesn’t exist in mine. I don’t know what a car is. Also, if there is more than one name for something, you will hear the one you are most familiar with.”
“Awesome,” Wren said, “no SAT words. What good is a word if you don’t know what it means. I stick to the easy to understand when writing.”
As Daphne got her earful, Iridia joined them without the angry tattoo guy. “What were you discussing with him?” Wren asked.
Iridia replied, “He wanted to buy you, and I told him no.”
Wren choked on the air in her throat. “Buy me? Nobody buys me. I’m not for sale.”
“He thought you and your friends were captives, not guests,” Iridia said.
Wren didn’t know what to say.