Free Kicking Ashe by Pauline Baird Jones Page A

Calendria led her to the tent spouting smoke, once again holding the tent flap for her. Ashe was glad, because the walk across the compound left her upper lip beaded with sweat at the strain of trying to appear all right, of trying to walk like she wasn’t about to fall on her face. Inside they passed a couple of long tables with bench seating, and went  into a food preparation area. In a distant sort of way she noted a large, black stove, more large wooden tables and shelves cluttered with, according to Lurch, cooking pans and utensils and other items essential to primitive food preparation. There was also a huge sink area and other shelves with plates, bowls and cups needed in the consumption of foodstuffs. The mix of permanent and not permanent felt a bit odd, but then just about everything here felt odd, so Ashe wasn’t sure what could be learned from it all.
    In front of one of the tables, stood a woman who appeared older than Calendria by a good bit. Her face showed lines, her eyes some wisdom. She stared at Ashe, a slight frown pulling her brows together. She shrugged as if shaking something off before moving toward them.
    “This is Bana,” Calendria said.
    Inside her, Lurch twitched, as if the name meant something to him. He rumbled a bit. You can’t condemn people for something they haven’t done yet and might not do in this time line . He shouldn’t need the reminder, but they were both off their game. The rumbling eased some. Felt a bit like a case of the flu incoming before it faded away. If Lurch had run into this Bana in the alternate reality, then it was possible that Bana felt some genetic memory echo, something her Earth cousins called déjà vu and others attributed to a sort of religious belief called reincarnation—except that Ashe and Bana had not met in that reality.
    She met her.
    Not-so-great grandma, Lurch’s first host, he meant. I have her nose. That’s a pretty slight memory.
    You also have her…aspect, her way of moving, and her spirit.
    Oh. Lurch would know—and know how much that annoyed. She and not-so-great grandma hadn’t exactly hit it off. Ashe pushed those thoughts away while she endured a prolonged inspection by the shrewd Bana—one also conducted from a slight distance. Ashe could kind of understand the don’t-touch-my-gal rule for the guys, but why couldn’t the girls at least shake hands?
    “The Commander tells me you wish to serve here in the kitchen.”
    Wish was a bit strong for what she felt, but she nodded because that was easier than explaining her wish was more a need for food. “I will need some instruction on your foodstuffs and procedures.” That sounded reasonable. And a good out when it became apparent how much she sucked at cooking.
    “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Calendria said. “I’ll see you at eating hour, Lady.”
    “Thank you for your assistance,” Ashe said. It wasn’t unknown for captives to attempt to bond with captors, which might explain why she wanted to cling like a baby griffon. But as captors, shouldn’t they want to create a bond of trust? Instead, Ashe sensed their desire for distance creating a conflict with their basic humanity. Why didn’t they want to like her, to feel a connection with her, to touch her? She needed someone on her side and she wasn’t sure she could manage it. Of course, best someone-on-her-side would be Shan since he was the guy in charge. Her interactions with him were complicated by her contact with Shan’s other reality self and Lurch’s unexpressed, but vehement issues with the man.
    Left alone with Bana, Ashe stayed upright only because she was stubborn and so was Lurch. It wasn’t just about losing consciousness among strangers, though that was part of it. Darkness tried to press in, but she pushed it back, felt Lurch try to assist, felt how close he was to the edge, too. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to extinguish yourself. Get into holding mode. I’m going to need you to survive