“I guess you could say that. You know, lend a helping hand—raise a barn, join in a taffy pull, give somebody stranded with a dead battery a jump-start. Humans like cooperating for a common goal.”
“That is true of g’hir as well. It is the bedrock of our enclosures.” His glance quickly went over the pieces of the shelter he had already laid out. “Those two,” he said with a wave at the thin metal supports near her feet. “Connect them.”
“Uh, okay . . .” It took her a while fiddling at it. He probably could have had the whole shelter built in the time it took her to get them connected. “How’s that?”
“Adequate,” he rumbled, holding his hand out for it.
“Never had a lesson in my life.” At his baffled look she gave a laugh. “I was joking.”
He offered a polite smile, though of course he wouldn’t have heard that before.
“How long did it take you to learn to do all this?” she asked. “Be a warrior, I mean.”
“Too long,” he rumbled with a huffed laugh of his own. “Training begins in the form of play as soon as a male child can walk but he is not named a warrior until he has hunted for himself for a year. I began my year when I was seventeen summers.”
“But you just have to feed yourself?”
“It is not as simple as it sounds, to feed oneself, to survive only on your own skills for an entire year,” he said wryly. “Nor as easy.”
“Why would you even do that?” she asked. “G’hir technology is tons more advanced than humans’. You can open wormholes in space and jump between solar systems in the blink of an eye. I saw a Betari warrior gored by a tarn come back from the medical center at Be’lyn City the very next day walking around like nothing had happened. You have medical knowledge that’s astounding.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t catch me spending a year alone in the wilderness, and my culture is centuries behind yours.”
He gave a faint smile. “Females need not earn the right to have a mate in any case, only males must.”
“Decree from the All Mother, right? Ar’ar said something like that. Not,” she added, thinking of that first terrifying day of captivity on his ship, “that I was paying much attention at the time.”
He stood and it looked like that was all the help he was interested in getting from her since he seemed intent on assembling the shelter alone now.
Crap, I wonder if it sounded like I was disparaging their Goddess or something . . .
She cleared her throat. “So, to be named a warrior by your clan you have to . . . what?” she asked, hoping to smooth over any blunder by getting back to the topic. “Live off the land entirely for a whole year?”
“From one winter gathering to the next,” he agreed. “If you are successful you rejoin the clanhall as a warrior.”
“What if you aren’t?” she wondered. “Successful, I mean?”
He shrugged. “You die.”
Summer blinked. “You’re kidding.”
He met her gaze, looking completely serious. “Only the strongest must be permitted to take a mate. Especially now.”
“To breed healthy daughters and repopulate Hir. Yeah, Ar’ar—and his father—had a lot to say on that subject too.” She stood. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance my other clothes are still dry.”
“Yes,” he said, offering her the pack she’d brought from the Betari enclosure.
She took it from him, shifting her weight, and his posture stiffened.
“I will not look at you while you disrobe,” he said gruffly, turning back to his work. When she didn’t move, he indicated the rear of the cavern. “There is ample privacy to be had here; you will not lose your way.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, her face warm as she grabbed the luma. She wasn’t sure which would be worse—that he’d try to look at her . . . or that he wouldn’t.
The luma gave off plenty of light and while the cave was chilly it wasn’t nearly as spooky back here as she feared it would be. She put the
“That is true of g’hir as well. It is the bedrock of our enclosures.” His glance quickly went over the pieces of the shelter he had already laid out. “Those two,” he said with a wave at the thin metal supports near her feet. “Connect them.”
“Uh, okay . . .” It took her a while fiddling at it. He probably could have had the whole shelter built in the time it took her to get them connected. “How’s that?”
“Adequate,” he rumbled, holding his hand out for it.
“Never had a lesson in my life.” At his baffled look she gave a laugh. “I was joking.”
He offered a polite smile, though of course he wouldn’t have heard that before.
“How long did it take you to learn to do all this?” she asked. “Be a warrior, I mean.”
“Too long,” he rumbled with a huffed laugh of his own. “Training begins in the form of play as soon as a male child can walk but he is not named a warrior until he has hunted for himself for a year. I began my year when I was seventeen summers.”
“But you just have to feed yourself?”
“It is not as simple as it sounds, to feed oneself, to survive only on your own skills for an entire year,” he said wryly. “Nor as easy.”
“Why would you even do that?” she asked. “G’hir technology is tons more advanced than humans’. You can open wormholes in space and jump between solar systems in the blink of an eye. I saw a Betari warrior gored by a tarn come back from the medical center at Be’lyn City the very next day walking around like nothing had happened. You have medical knowledge that’s astounding.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t catch me spending a year alone in the wilderness, and my culture is centuries behind yours.”
He gave a faint smile. “Females need not earn the right to have a mate in any case, only males must.”
“Decree from the All Mother, right? Ar’ar said something like that. Not,” she added, thinking of that first terrifying day of captivity on his ship, “that I was paying much attention at the time.”
He stood and it looked like that was all the help he was interested in getting from her since he seemed intent on assembling the shelter alone now.
Crap, I wonder if it sounded like I was disparaging their Goddess or something . . .
She cleared her throat. “So, to be named a warrior by your clan you have to . . . what?” she asked, hoping to smooth over any blunder by getting back to the topic. “Live off the land entirely for a whole year?”
“From one winter gathering to the next,” he agreed. “If you are successful you rejoin the clanhall as a warrior.”
“What if you aren’t?” she wondered. “Successful, I mean?”
He shrugged. “You die.”
Summer blinked. “You’re kidding.”
He met her gaze, looking completely serious. “Only the strongest must be permitted to take a mate. Especially now.”
“To breed healthy daughters and repopulate Hir. Yeah, Ar’ar—and his father—had a lot to say on that subject too.” She stood. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance my other clothes are still dry.”
“Yes,” he said, offering her the pack she’d brought from the Betari enclosure.
She took it from him, shifting her weight, and his posture stiffened.
“I will not look at you while you disrobe,” he said gruffly, turning back to his work. When she didn’t move, he indicated the rear of the cavern. “There is ample privacy to be had here; you will not lose your way.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, her face warm as she grabbed the luma. She wasn’t sure which would be worse—that he’d try to look at her . . . or that he wouldn’t.
The luma gave off plenty of light and while the cave was chilly it wasn’t nearly as spooky back here as she feared it would be. She put the
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