Ashby lowered his voice. “Since when do Aandrisks not mention tets around their kids?”
“We do,” Sissix said. “But you’re probably the first Humans they’ve ever seen, and I don’t want them to grow up thinking your species is stupid.” She walked toward the children, calling out a breathy greeting.
The kids’ featherless heads snapped up. The smaller one shouted something. The translation appeared on Rosemary’s hud. “Aliens! The aliens are here!” They scrambled up out of the stream, claws skittering in excitement.
Sissix crouched down to nuzzle both of their faces. Rosemary had seen her do the same to Ashby, but with him, the gesture was more affectionate, more natural. There was something formal about this. Kind and genuine, yes, but definitely removed.
The older child spoke. “You’re Sissix.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re my egg mother.”
Sissix smiled. She did not look surprised. “You must be Teshris.” Her eyes flicked to the other. “Are you Eskat, then?”
“No,” the child said, giggling.
“No, I see now. You’re too young.” She patted his bald head. “Not that that’s a bad thing.”
Ashby whispered in Rosemary’s ear. “Teshris is a girl,” he said. “Her buddy here’s a boy.”
“Thanks,” Rosemary replied, wondering how he could tell the difference. “Eskat is her sibling?”
“Egg brother, yeah. I didn’t know their names until now, though.”
Sissix said something to Teshris in hand speak. Ashby whispered again: “That motion’s specific to egg parents. She’s saying that she’s happy that Teshris is healthy and… well, that she exists, basically.” The Aandrisk girl responded, her gestures awkward and new. “She’s thanking Sissix for giving her life.” The two Aandrisks smiled and gave each other one more nuzzle. And that was that. No hugs, no long stares, no Sissix needing some time to process the daughter she’d never spoken to. In that moment, Rosemary understood. Teshris wasn’t Sissix’s daughter, not in the Human sense. They shared genes and respect, nothing more.
Sissix turned her head to Teshris’ companion. “What’s your name?”
“Vush,” he said.
“Whose eggs are you from?”
“Teker and Hasra.”
Sissix crowed with laughter. “I don’t know Hasra, but Teker was my hatch sister.”
Hatch sister, not egg sister. Rosemary felt like she needed to start drawing a chart.
Sissix grinned at the kids. “When we were growing up”—the hud added the direct translation becoming people as a parenthetical—“she always said she didn’t want to have a clutch, and that she’d be tough enough to go without coupling while she was fertile. That changed damn quick once her feathers started coming in. During her first heat, I found her rutting alone up against a rock. I thought she was going to choke, she was so—” The hud skipped over the last word and offered an explanation instead: [no analog available; a combination of arousal, frenzy, and inexperience, generally attributed to adolescence]. Sissix laughed again, and the kids joined in. Rosemary raised her eyebrows. How old were these kids? She glanced over at Ashby. He looked a little uncomfortable, too. At least she wasn’t alone in it.
Vush spoke up after he’d stopped giggling. “I want to touch the Humans, but Ithren said they don’t like that.”
“He’s right, not all Humans do. But I bet these two would be okay with it. You just have to ask permission first.” She pointed back toward her companions. “This is Rosemary, and this is Ashby. They are very good people.”
The kids looked at them, motionless. Rosemary remembered being four years old, seeing a Harmagian for the first time, unable to stop staring at the tendrils where his chin should have been. It was odd to find herself on the other end of the equation.
Ashby crouched down and smiled. The kids looked a little stiff, but they stepped closer. It took Rosemary a moment to realize their tense muscles were not a result of fear, but of suppressing the instinct to touch. Ashby began to speak in Reskitkish. His consonants were halting, and his out-breaths were far more exaggerated than Sissix’s, but it was good enough for the hud to pick up. “My name is Ashby. I am glad to meet you. You can touch me.”
The kids ran forward. They nuzzled a quick hello, out of politeness, and got to the serious business of poking at Ashby. “It’s so soft!” Vush said, pressing his hands against Ashby’s coiled hair. “No quills!”
“Do you molt?” Teshris asked, examining Ashby’s forearm.
“No,” said Ashby. “But we…” He struggled, and switched over to Klip, addressing Sissix. “Can you explain dry skin?”
“Their skin comes off in tiny, tiny pieces, not all at once,” Sissix said to the kids. “They don’t even notice it.”
“Lucky,” Teshris said. “I hate molting.”
Vush, a little less restrained than his hatch sister now that permission had been given, walked right up to Rosemary and gave her a nuzzle. “Can I touch you, too?”
Rosemary smiled and nodded, before realizing the boy wouldn’t understand what a nod meant. “Tell him yes,” Rosemary said to Sissix. Sissix relayed the message.
Vush frowned. “Why can’t she tell me herself?”
“She doesn’t speak Reskitkish,” Sissix said. “But that hud she’s wearing lets her read every word you say.”
The Aandrisk boy stared at Rosemary, baffled. The notion that someone could not speak Reskitkish seemed inconceivable to him.
“Here, Rosemary,” Sissix said in Klip. “Do this.” She made a quick curve with her fingers. “That’s agreement.”
Rosemary looked at Vush and repeated the gesture. Vush gestured something back, and grabbed her breasts. “What are these?”
Rosemary yelped. Ashby burst out laughing. Sissix darted forward, pulling Vush’s hands back. “Vush, Human women don’t like it when people they don’t know touch them there.”
“Oh, stars,” Ashby said in Klip, holding his shaking sides.
Vush looked puzzled. “Why not?”
“Is he okay?” Teshris asked, pointing at Ashby. She had taken a few steps back.