I'm starting to regret telling her. "I'm really not sure…"
She takes my arm and steers me gently toward the water, aiming my gaze at a distant man who stands on the shore, alone. "Perhaps R'jaal? He strikes me as very lonely, you know."
Well, this is a nightmare. Now Daisy's playing matchmaker. I try not to grimace as we both watch R'jaal. He stands in the shallows, leaning on his spear. I thought he was fishing in the tide pools, but it becomes very obvious that he's actually watching Flor and Sessah, who are throwing nets a bit farther out. Or rather, Sessah is throwing them and Flor is standing atop a rock and shouting encouragement. They're both laughing and having a great time, and…
I guess I'm not the only one that was nursing a crush on bright, vivacious Flordeliza.
"Or what about O'jek?" Daisy asks. "He's truly a lovely sort once you get past that prickly exterior. Very sweet and giving. And thoughtful, too. He's such a good man."
That's…effusive. I try to conjure up a mental image of the alien man receiving all the praise. My experiences with O'jek are that he's abrupt, surly, and his favorite facial expression is a scowl. He's not the handsomest of aliens, absolutely not the friendliest, and I'm surprised that Daisy thinks so highly of him.
Then again, maybe everyone's sweet to you when you're beautiful. I don't have that going for me, either. After a year of being here, I'm still rather squat and round—there's probably some sort of plump peasant in my ancestry that makes this the case—and I'm unexciting to look at. Daisy probably gets the star treatment from O'jek because she's pretty and flirty.
"You must have someone in mind," Daisy continues. "Someone that's caught your eye?"
For some reason, my brain immediately presents me with a mental image of Juth's enormous balls. "Uh, no one," I manage to choke out. "No one in the tribe."
Daisy's like a dog with a bone. She squeezes my arm tight. "The Outcast, then? He could be hot if we did something about that hair, perhaps. And you know he's a good father, so that's something at least."
"Daisy." I try to extract myself from her clinging grip. "I'm not in love with anyone. I promise. Not the Outcast, either. I don't know him well enough."
Her eyes gleam. "But you're going to fix that, right? Do you need help? I'm an excellent matchmaker."
Now she's getting on my nerves. "I'm not interested in being matched up with anyone. And since we're talking frankly, can I give you a word of advice? Friend to friend? You really need to do more around the camp than just look pretty."
She smiles, her expression ever-so-slightly sad. "I'm afraid 'pretty' is all I've got to offer."
7
JUTH
The next morning, the shore looks distinctly greasy. The water has a strange residue on the waves as they roll in, and the shells of small, reddish creatures are so plentiful that the entire beach looks speckled with bright red snow.
This has something to do with the fish that are disappearing, I suspect. Pak races along the sand, picking up one after another, but most of them are dead. When he finds one that is alive, he brings it to me and we both stare at the wriggling legs of the small, shellfish-like creature. The crabs that crawl along the sands eat them, but there are so very many that they can feast all day and not finish them all.
"Should we try eating them, Papa?" Pak asks. Other than the painted eggs brought by the female, we ate nothing again last night. I know Pak is hungry—my stomach is painfully empty, and I am at the point that I might go to the clan and demand food for my small son. He should not be hungry like this.
I gingerly raise the creature to my mouth. It looks disgusting, all legs and small, hard red shell, but if they will fill an empty belly… I push it into my mouth and chew before I can think twice about it. Something wet bursts between my teeth the moment I crunch down, followed by an acrid taste that makes me spit the remains on the ground. I open my mouth to tell Pak that it is not for eating when suddenly, my mouth burns with heat, as if the elders' fire is licking directly against my tongue. With a grunt of pain, I race to the water's edge and splash seawater into my mouth until it no longer burns. "Not for eating," I rasp at Pak, grateful I did not swallow that. I cannot imagine how it would burn inside my gut. "Definitely not for eating."
He giggles at me, touching the corner of my mouth. "Your lips are all swollen and funny."
I make a face at him, and he giggles even more. "Let us go to the basket and see if they have brought us food, then." His eyes light up with excitement, and I add, "This is not to be an ongoing thing. Remember that."