“They allowed me to stay,” she pointed out.
“Temporarily,” Zemma reminded her. “I’m not even sure that I would want to live here, but I don’t want to feel as if I’ve left my tribe behind.”
“Are you still close to your mother’s family? What do they think?”
“They pretty much washed their fur of me when I went to live with Chotgor.” Zemma shrugged, but Izzie saw the pain in her eyes. “Everyone was so happy to see me when I returned—everyone except them. They told me that I had damaged the family name by going to live with an offworlder.”
“Did they know what happened to you?”
“No, thank the gods. That would have made it even worse in their eyes.”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“A true Hothian would have fought him off,” the girl said bitterly. “They would have expected me to defeat him.”
“That’s ridiculous. I know that you would have done everything you could. It’s not your fault.”
As she said the words to Zemma, she felt them echo inside her. And she realized that she had been blaming herself as well. As much as she had fought, her opponents had been bigger and stronger, and there was no shame in that.
There was a sudden clamor in the caves below, and Izzie raced for the entrance. Despite her apparent lack of concern, Zemma was close behind her. As they came out on the balcony, the first thing Izzie saw was a large white-furred body being carried by four other Hothians. Her heart stopped.
All her doubts suddenly faded away. Of course she wanted to be mated to Baralt—she couldn’t imagine life without him. Please let him be okay.
“We have to go to him.”
“Wait, Izzie. It’s not him,” Zemma called after her, and she came to a sudden halt. Another figure had emerged from the tunnel—Baralt! He was carrying one end of a long pole, a second Hothian at the other end, and hanging from the pole was another one of the fish creatures. She had hoped that the image in the bedroom had used some artistic license, but as she stared at the creature, she realized it was astonishingly accurate. At least fifteen feet long, the paxha had a mouth like a piranha, full of spiked teeth, and short vestigial legs in addition to the fins along its sides. She didn’t see any eyes, only clusters of short tentacles crowning its head, and she shuddered. Somehow knowing that it couldn’t see only made it worse.
Baralt looked up and saw her watching him and waved triumphantly. She longed to go to him and throw herself into his arms, but now that she knew he was all right, she wasn’t sure how he would feel about a public display of affection.
Her doubts were quickly answered. He marched up the ramp, still carrying the pole over his shoulder and his companion following him, but as soon as he reached her, they lowered the creature carefully to the ground, and he picked her up and whirled her around gleefully.
“A successful hunt! Are you pleased with my trophy?”
“I’m pleased that you’re back and that you’re safe.”
He looked almost disappointed.
“It’s very large,” she added quickly, and he grinned and kissed her so thoroughly that she was clinging to him when he finally raised his head. Apparently he didn’t have any concerns about public displays of affection.
The male who had been carrying the other end of the pole nodded at Baralt. “I will send the zuraach. Congratulations on your kill.”
The male went back down the ramp with Baralt watching him thoughtfully. “As much as I hate to admit it, Njkall was correct. Yesterday, Durgal didn’t want to speak to me. Today he helped me bring the paxha home.”
He spoke lightly, but Izzie could see his relief. He wanted to be accepted by his tribe.
“What are you going to do with that thing?”
“The zuraach will come to create the image—and then we feast.”
“You’re going to eat it?” she asked doubtfully.
“We are going to eat it. It would be wasteful not to make use of the kill.”
“A very fine specimen, my brother. We will eat well tonight.” Zemma had been examining the creature, and she looked up now and grinned. “Are you inviting your admirers?”
A brief, fierce spike of jealousy speared through Izzie until she realized that Zemma was pointing at a collection of Hothian males still gathered at the entrance to the deeper caves. They were talking excitedly and gesturing up at where Baralt was standing. He sighed.
“They are young and foolish, easily swayed to hero worship, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. We will invite everyone on the hunt, plus Njkall and the other Elders. And Zeeja’s family, of course.”
“I don’t want them.”
“Why not? They raised you. They even sent me reports—”
He stopped abruptly, but it was too late. Zemma’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You kept in touch with them? But not with me?”
“I…”
“He sent them credits for looking after you,” Izzie added when Baralt didn’t continue.
“You paid them? And they spent all those years telling me what a burden I was to them.”
Baralt snarled, a terrifying look on his face. “They did what?”
“It’s over now,” Zemma said quickly. “I’ve lived here since I returned.”
“Returned from where?”
“Um.” Zemma gave Izzie a helpless look.
Izzie reached out and put a hand on Baralt’s arm. His normally hard muscles were like rock beneath her fingers. “We should discuss this later. When we’re alone,” she added, pointing to a strange Hothian female hurrying up the ramp toward them.
“The zuraach,” Zemma said quickly. “I’ll just go see if she needs any assistance.”
She scurried off as Baralt gave a frustrated growl.
“Let her go,” Izzie said softly. “This really isn’t the time or place.”
“Do you know what she was talking about?” he asked.
“Some of it. But it’s not my story to tell.”
“Females,” he said in disgust. “I’m going to bathe.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
After Baralt stalked off, Izzie considered following him but decided
