Free The Silver Ship and the Sea by Brenda Cooper

from Deerfly didn’t communicate as well with each other, or us, as hebras seem to.”
    We reached the watering station, and I slid off Sugar Wheat andsat on the warm concrete while they gave the hebras water. Joseph came over and helped me stand. “Are you all right?”
    I nodded, testing my ability to walk by taking a few steps. I nearly fell. My right leg hurt, but it worked correctly, responded to my commands.
    “I’m sorry,” Joseph said.
    “Me, too.” I thought about the cats feeding on Jinks. Poor beautiful Jinks.
    “That I wasn’t there to help you.”
    Oh. “You were just ahead. If Tom hadn’t gotten there first, you would have been there.” My dry mouth had trouble forming words clearly, and I reached for my water bag and drew a mouthful.
    Joseph turned to look at Tom, who stood by the water trough, rubbing Sugar Wheat’s nose. “I’m glad he was here. Maybe he will be all right for us.”
    I smiled at that. “Maybe he will. He’s been good this trip.”
    “He stunned at least one of the cats chasing me. It was close. That’s how Legs got scratched.”
    “At least we’re all okay, everyone but Jinks. They started after you.”
    He looked at me with a sudden tenderness in his eyes. “I couldn’t have stood losing you, too.”
    “I know. We have to keep each other safe.” I hugged him, hard, and then pulled back, looking into his eyes. They were clear and sharp, very alive. “Let’s go clean up.”
    Joseph helped me wash my cuts and the wide claw slash, while Tom cleaned up Legs’s flank. We stayed at the spaceport for an hour, calming the hebras, calming ourselves. The wide road back from here was safer than the narrow road from the sea, but the spaceport was safer yet. Finally, the sun’s fall toward the horizon pushed us toward home. We needed to beat the dark.
    I rode back to Artistos behind Joseph. I’d always been afraid something would happen to me, leaving Joseph to fend for himself. I held him tightly, glad we rode together. Two of us in a saddle meant for one was a close, cramped fit. I scanned the grass for signs of danger. We saw nothing worse than small birds and rodents and, once, a thin grass snake slithering across the path. Our shadows were long in front of us as we started up the switchbacks toward home.
    The boundary bell sounded sweet as we passed inside, and we stopped and looked back. The sky was sun-painted: orange and gold with a hint of deep red. The darkening plains looked like water again from this height.
    We arrived home an hour later, after rubbing down the hebras and tending Legs’s cut. Destiny, the largest of our seven moons, shone full enough to light the river path as we straggled home from the barns.
    Surprisingly, we found Nava at the stove, stirring a pot of stew. The warm kitchen smelled like onion and pepper and djuri meat. She glanced up as we came in. “Stile caught two djuri and brought us meat. I thought it would be good to have a meal together.” I couldn’t remember her ever cooking anything elaborate. It felt good to be greeted with warm homemade food. She narrowed her eyes and frowned at me. “You’re walking wrong. What happened?”
    Tom spoke up. “We lost Chelo’s hebra to a paw-cat.”
    Nava arched an eyebrow. “It looks like you almost lost Chelo.”
    I collapsed into a chair, suddenly feeling dizzy, as if all the adrenaline had leaked from my body into the warmth of the kitchen. My hands shook. “Bruises, and a scratch. Tom saved me from worse.”
    Nava glanced over at Tom. Her voice sounded strained, slightly angry. “I told you to take more people with you. You could have gotten them killed.”
    Nice of her to appreciate that we didn’t die.
    Tom ignored her barb and set the table. We ate quietly. The stew tasted wonderful, but I could only manage a few bites. After dinner, Joseph helped me clean up with hot water, which stung so much I danced. He frowned at me when he was done. “Should I use some medi-tape?”
    “No.