Barbarian's Mate by Ruby Dixon

a seat on the ledge so I can relax and gaze out at the ocean. From my vantage point, I can see for miles. It’s really something. The waves are tranquil and the water looks so soothing. I pull out my trail mix pouch and eat a few crumbs as I enjoy the view. I don’t have much left, but I’m at my destination. Well, sort of. I don’t see anything that looks like the caves Harlow described, so maybe I’m in the wrong spot. I lick the last few crumbs from my fingers and ignore the grumbling of my stomach. It’ll have to last.
    On a whim, I dig out the disc of glass from my bag. I’m a little ashamed to say I stole it from Harlow, but if the surgery machine is broken, does it even matter? Nothing else is half as useful, and I plan on using the heck out of this thing. I cup my fingers around the edges and hold it to my eye like I would a telescope. At first it makes my gaze blurry, so I try focusing with one eye closed, and things zoom into place.
    Now I can see much further away. Excited, I use it to gaze down at the ocean. The water doesn’t look as green — or as soothing — a little closer. In fact, the waves look downright nasty, and I can see dark blobs scuttling on the shore.
    A shadow flies overhead, and I put my ‘telescope’ down, glancing up. There’s a gigantic bird overhead, rushing past at a speed I’ve never seen before. Holy crap, it’s fast. I lift my spyglass again, but it moves so quick I can’t catch a view of it. Darn.
    I turn back to the ocean, and peer out at the icebergs. There’s dark shapes on them that I can’t make out. Maybe the Not-Hoth version of seals? Ice otters? Something? A moment later, the waves undulate and a thin, yellowish snakelike thing erupts from the waves and snatches one of the dark shapes off of the iceberg and disappears under the water with it. I shudder.
    Mental note: no swimming.
    I move the telescope over the water, scanning. Mostly there’s nothing to see but more waves, but as I sweep over the distant horizon, a faint smear of lighter green against the water catches my eye. I try to focus in, but no matter how much I squint, I can’t see what it is. At first I think it’s another sea serpent, but when it doesn’t move, I realize it’s something else. Land, maybe? But it’s…green. Maybe I should check it out.
    I turn my telescope back to the icebergs and see another dark shape flutter under the water.
    Maaaaybe I won’t check out the green if it means going through Jurassic Park: Aqua Edition. Haeden would know what those things are. For a moment, I feel an unhappy pang of longing that has nothing to do with my cootie.
    I put down my spyglass and rub my forehead, where a headache is starting.
    It’s weird, but I miss Haeden. With all this travel, my cootie’s gone mostly silent, though I dream of Haeden at night and when I wake up, my chest is vibrating with resonance. That isn’t what makes me miss him, though. I miss his presence, knowing that he’s there for me. It’s strange, but no one’s ever really been there for me in my life. When the shit hit the fan, everyone else ran away. Not Haeden. He might glare and put up a fuss, but he’s always been there. Funny how I didn’t realize it until I left.
    He’s still insufferable and a prick, but…he’s growing on me. Or was. I imagine what he’d say if he knew I went all the way out to the ocean on my own. He’d scowl, his tail flicking, and cross his big arms. You’re weak, Jo-see. Females must be protected. Humans cannot travel like the sa-khui.
    I’m gleeful, imagining the smug look on his face changing to one of wonder as he realizes just what I’ve done. That I’m a tough cookie. And some of my enjoyment fades when I realize he’ll never realize what I’ve accomplished, because I’ll never see him again.
    I hate the wistful ache in my breast. I’ve made my choice and I won’t cry over it. Another bird flies overhead and I squint at it. Eagles? This area reminds me of a (much,