by Calista Skye
But he said nothing about her wounding that man. I'm not in the mood to Worship someone who's just injured me and made me bleed for hours.
I hear some noises from her that young boys will sometimes make if they hurt themselves. She's weeping silently on my back.
I stop and carefully place her on the ground. She looks up at me with immense, dark eyes that are now rimmed with red.
She tries to curl up. “Please don't hurt,” she pleads, and her soft, bright voice trembles.
I check the string. I tied it a little too tightly around her hands. I loosen the knot and retie it, making sure the string doesn't cut into her wrists. Her unspeakably delicate wrists with thin, sparse hair on them. On instinct I bring her forearms up to my nose and draw in the sweet, enticing smell.
She gasps and tries to pull her arms away, as if afraid I'm going to take a bite out of them.
She needn't worry. Something about her makes me want to be gentle with her, like with a young child. And at the same time I want to rip her clothes off and admire her form and inspect the slit she supposedly has at the join of her legs.
No. She injured me. I won't Worship her right now, no matter how much my crotch wants it.
I hoist her onto my shoulder again, holding her securely with my left hand so my right is free to use the sword if necessary.
“I Aurora,” she says thinly. “Au. Ro. Ra. You?”
Au. Ro. Ra. Is she telling me her name? It's a very strange one.
Whatever. She injured me with her infernal weapon. My chest aches and my rear stings as if there's a rekh pup constantly biting it. Each step I take sends a sharp barb down my leg and up my back.
“I Au. Ro. Ra,” she repeats, louder now.
“Trak'zor,” I hiss, just to get her to shut up. Any sound could attract danger.
I think she gets it. She quiets down, anyway.
I have many hours to go before I'm home. Many dangerous hours of travel through the forest at night.
When I get there, I can decide what to do with her. I will be gentle with her, of course. She is the Woman. She requires Worship.
I wince as I trip over a rock and the angry stick still stuck in my behind cuts further into the flesh.
I clench my jaw. She's dangerous.
And she's obviously out to kill me.
6
- Aurora -
He moves fast through the jungle. I'm impressed. He hardly makes a sound, even if it's pretty much totally dark. And he's carrying me. And he's injured.
My panic has calmed down and some kind of cautious optimism is creeping in. Hey, he hasn't killed me yet. And he did loosen the string around my wrists.
Yeah, it's not much. But in this situation, I'll take what I can get.
My bow is back at Bune, and my arrows, too. Except the one still stuck in his butt, I suppose. He'll need help getting it out. Hopefully he realizes that. And hopefully he'll let me help him with it.
It jumps with each step he takes, and sometimes he groans with pain. That thing should probably be taken out as soon as possible. It's not going to be pleasant, because the iron tip has barbs on it.
Of course, we could be going to a major village and a whole tribe where he can get help.
But somehow this doesn't feel like that. I have no solid reason to think so, but it feels like this guy is a little bit of a loner. I doubt any tribesman would go to forbidden Bune in the first place. Not to mention actually enter those corridors, which have to seem insanely alien and weird to him.
Trak'zor. It's a caveman name, all right.
His movements are soft and smooth, and I don't jump up and down on his shoulder like I think I probably would on any other man. He holds me securely, and the heat from his body feels reassuring in a very strange way. He's human. Or at least human-ish. He's not a monster from the movies. I should probably be grateful about that.
I yawn. I have been up for many hours, and worrying about the possibly injured caveman I shot kept me up most of last night.
His gait is so very smooth and even, and his skin is so warm. The air is getting cooler too, and it's very dark.
I'll just close my eyes for a moment ...
- - -
“No, don't eat me!”
I wake up with a twitch. That was a terrible dream. Alien monsters everywhere.
Reality isn't that much better, I realize. I'm still looking at a powerful lower back and a round butt with the thin shaft of an arrow sticking out of one cheek.
I raise my head as much as possible. It's still night, but it's brighter than when I miraculously fell asleep while being carried over Trak'zor's massive shoulder.
We've stopped. I can hear the sound of running water, a steady thunder like from rapids or a waterfall.
It makes me realize that I'm feeling a certain need, and I don't think he'd like it if I gave in to it while I'm up here. Neither would I, probably.
“You put Aurora down,” I demand. “Need go behind bush.”
Three heartbeats go by while he's pondering my clumsy cavemanese sentence.
Then Trak'zor carefully lifts me from his shoulder and sets me down on the grass, towering over me while the blood slowly drains from my face after a long time dangling over his back.
I'm still tied on hands and feet. This will be an interesting operation from a purely practical point of view.
I give him my best shrug while I stretch my tied wrists up towards him. “You make rope loose.”
He pierces me with his azure lasers.
Three seconds go by while we look at each other. No, he's not getting this.
“You make rope loose,” I try again. “Aurora go behind bush for ... relief. Water relief. Then come back from bush. Not will escape! Danger jungle and no weapon for woman.”
Still he stands there. Fuck, trust me to be captured by a stupid caveman. Or maybe he just wants to watch?
I draw breath to repeat my demand in a less diplomatic way, but at the same moment he bends down and unties the rope around my ankles and wrists with quick, easy moves. Or rather, he unties both ankles and one wrist. The other one remains tied, and then he attaches it to another, longer strand that ends in a tight bundle in his hand.
He's put my wrist on a leash, pretty much.
“No, no,” I protest and tug at the string. “That not needed! Aurora not escape from bush.”
But the look he gives me says 'take it or leave it' in a way that's pretty effective, and I'm really feeling the need now, so I slink behind a dense piece of undergrowth a few yards away, squat down and release the pressure.
I examine the string. There's no way I can untie that tight knot without using a blade of some kind.
I can't blame him, really. I'm sure I'd be pretty uncompromising, too, with someone who'd shot me in the chest and butt over the span of one day.
It's not necessary, though. I'm not going to try to escape.
Well, not yet. This jungle is deadly, and I'm not suicidal. Without my bow, my chances of getting home alive are just about zero.
I peer over at Trak'zor through the foliage in the bush. What are my chances of staying alive with this guy?
I get up and saunter back to him, casually gathering the 'leash' in my hand. “Now finish. Trak'zor see how Aurora not escape from terrible man, tie up innocent woman? Now loose rope.”
He looks me up and down and makes no move to comply. I give him an angry frown. But have you tried to frown angrily at someone who's a couple of feet taller than you? You feel like a cranky three-year-old.
Then I look past him and I think my jaw probably drops a little.
The sun is now right below the horizon and I can see where we are.
The first thing I see is the waterfall. It comes from a cliff high up behind us and plummets down in fine, white sheets into what is plainly a lake.
A lake!
It's the first lake I or any of the girls have seen on this planet. And it's big. I can't see the other shore. The calm, mirror-like surfac
e just disappears into the distant morning mist.
In the lake is an island, maybe fifty feet from the shore. It's pretty small and rocky, but I can see trees and green hillsides. It stands out in the dense jungle.
There's a little splash, and then little concentric rings form on the surface a couple of yards out. Could there be fish in this lake? We've never seen fish on this planet.
Trak'zor is busying himself with something at the edge of the jungle, and for the first time I can take a good look at him.
He's huge and strong. His hair has been clumsily cut at a little over shoulder length, but it has an internal light to it that makes me want to run my hands through it.
His stripes are a bright white, and they contrast with his golden skin in a way that can't provide much camouflage for him in the jungle. I mean, he would stand out against the green like ... like a not-sheep in a clearing, I guess. Which is pretty much why I shot him in the first place.
We know that the stripes are a kind of armor, because they're much tougher than the ordinary skin around them. Still, I'm not sure if white is the color I'd pick. But I don't think he ever had a choice.
It seems to me he has more scars all over him than the other caveman I've seen. Soon he will have two more. The two that I have given him.
I get little glimpses of his face when he sometimes turns his head to check that I'm still here. He has a straight nose and a powerful chin, dark eyebrows and deep-set eyes with an intelligent glint in them. At least, I hope that's an intelligent glint. I could never deal with the less bright guys on Earth. And I have tried. More than once.
His legs are thick as tree trunks and his muscles flex all over him as he moves. But he sometimes winces, and the arrow is still sticking out of his behind.
Fine, I'm sure he has a plan for dealing with that.
Meanwhile, how do I deal with all this? Yes, I shot him. But he's abducted me, so I think we're pretty much even. I have no idea what he's planning with me.
Probably he has no plan and is just fascinated by the first woman he's seen. The cavemen are like that – they take what they want. I suppose it's attractive in its own way.
I sigh. Yes, fine. He's an attractive guy. Strong and determined and with a quite interesting bulge in his loincloth. It's just that for all I know, he might want to roast me over a slow fire.
How do you deal with an abductor? I've watched a lot of crime shows like that. As far as I can remember, the first thing I should do is to get him to start talking. I want him to think of me as a person, not as an object.
It might me a challenge. On Earth, too many guys talk too much. Here, they've taken the 'strong and silent' thing a little too far, maybe.
Trak'zor grunts and drags a huge tree trunk out of the woods and then, impossibly, lifts it and tosses one end over to the island. I can't believe my eyes. That thing has to weigh a metric ton. Or two. Three, even. It's long.
Then he comes over to me, eyes burning into my soul.
“You make bridge?” I ask casually. That tree is obviously the bridge over to the island. “Over to ... what that?”
Because I have no idea what the word 'island' is in cavemanese. We've never needed it before.
He doesn't reply, just throws his sack over his shoulder and pulls a little on the string attached to my wrist.
What the fuck? Does he think he can lead me like a dog?
I stay put and yank on the line myself. “What you do? You think Aurora is ... wild rekh to capture?”
It's the first thing I can think of. I've never seen a dog here. But now he's pissing me off.
He gives the line another couple of urgent pulls, not too hard.
I grab the line with both hands and yank so hard on it he has to take a step forward. “You not pull Aurora! You talk like man, not pull like stupid ... Big!”
It's not much of an insult, but at least I get him to frown. We lock eyes for three heartbeats. Well, he got me mad. And angry Aurora can meet the gaze of anyone, no matter how intense their eye lasers are.
“We will go across to the yog,” he says in a deep and surprisingly melodious voice. “It's safer there. No Bigs.”
I stay put. “Yog, huh? You be nice to Aurora on yog?”
He looks around, as if he's expecting something bad to happen at any moment. It makes my skin crawl. If a caveman is worried about what might come out of the jungle, I suppose I should be too. The rumble from the waterfall makes it hard to hear any of the noises that would normally alarm you about a dino being close.
He turns his back and pulls once more, not as hard as before, but still impatient. “We'll go across.”
I stay put for a moment, then follow him. I get the feeling his next reaction would be to tie me up again. And I don't like being alone here at the edge of the jungle.
The 'bridge' is wide enough for me to balance my way across it just fine. On the other side the shore is smooth and rocky. The air feels fresher out here than in the damp jungle, although the forest is only a few yards away. There's vegetation on this island too, tall trees a little distance away.
Trak'zor drags the 'bridge' over to this side, then glances at me and nods over to the other shore.
I turn around. Then I gasp.
On the jungle side of the water is a dinosaur. A raptor, what the caveman call a rekh. It's big and it's standing right where I was standing just a minute ago, its head low to the ground, endless rows of teeth showing and emotionless eyes focused on us.
“There are Bigs in the jungle,” Trak'zor explains as if to a child. “This one has been tracking us for some time. Better to not talk when one is close.”
I put myself behind him so the raptor can't see me. “And now will eat Aurora and Trak'zor.”
“It will not,” the caveman says calmly. “Bigs don't like big water.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble. That little strait of water doesn't seem wider than something any raptor could jump across without even trying. And there are much larger creatures in the jungle. “We go further? Very fast away from rekh?”
Trak'zor turns around, puts his sack on his shoulder and walks ahead of me across the rocky shore, heading into the jungle. I trundle after him, my wrist still tied to his leash, glad to put more distance between the raptor and myself.
The shaft of the arrow stuck in his butt cheek bounces up and down with each step he takes. He hasn't even broken it off to make it more manageable. I suppose he can't really get a good grip on it back there.
I stop. “Trak'zor.”
He turns around.
“Arrow still stuck to your ... umm ...” I don't remember the word for 'butt', so I point to my own voluminous behind. “Aurora help take out.”
I still have the little pouch of medical supplies tied to my belt, so I'm pretty sure I can do some good. I might not be able to remove the arrow without causing some bad pain, but I'm willing to try. The sun has just risen above the horizon, so there should be ample light for that procedure.
He lifts his eyebrows a fraction.
I know what he's thinking: I shot him in the first place. How can he be sure that I won't try to harm him further?
“I have regret about shoot,” I state, wishing I'd asked the cavemen back home what the word for 'sorry' is. But they're not big on apologizing. Probably because they hardly ever do anything wrong. “Will attempt to take out arrow with sharp tip.”
7
- Aurora -
I open the pouch of medical supplies and show him. “Look? Many kinds of medicine. Help against ... umm ... infection,” I say in English. “Also in chest.”
Trak'zor puts his head to the side. “Aurora hunted me with her angry little stick. Now she wants to take it out?”
“Yes! I mean, I not hunt Trak'zor. Hunt other. Mistake shooting Trak'zor! Regret much. Now want to repair.” I point. “You show Aurora.”
Yep, I'm pretty much asking him to show me his ass. He might think I'm being very forward. But I'll try to think like a doctor, detached and
clinically.
Trak'zor thinks for a moment, then shrugs, turns around and lifts his loincloth on the side where the arrow is.
I immediately fail at being detached and clinical. Because that has to be the manliest, most muscled butt cheek I've ever seen. It's round and immensely firm and sexy, and at the same time unspeakably cute, with its sprinkling of light downy hairs and the much paler skin because it hasn't been exposed to the sun.
I kneel down behind him for a closer look. The injury isn't anywhere near as bad as I'd thought. The iron tip hasn't even penetrated fully, and the barbs haven't taken hold at all.
It's weird. My bow wasn't too powerful, but still I shot him with pretty good force at close range. I would have thought this arrow would have gone further in. He has no stripes there, and his loincloth isn't that tough.
I take the shaft between two fingers and pull the last quarter inch of the tip out of him. He doesn't even flinch, and there's hardly any blood.
“That was easy,” I mumble to myself.
“Much difficult!” I say aloud. “But Aurora good at repair man. Now repair hole. Trak'zor wait.”
I get some of the paste we think is antibacterial and apply it to the little wound that remains on his butt. I don't even think it's necessary, because there's hardly any redness around the injury.
I innocently put the arrow back in my quiver, which I'm still wearing. I have no bow, but those aren't too hard to make. An arrow with an iron tip is a very valuable object here on planet Xren.
“Finish,” I state with some satisfaction and get to my feet. “Now chest.”
He turns around, and my face is exactly at the right height with his other wound. I untie the dirty bandage he's tied around it.
The wound here is also surprisingly small. The arrow hit just between two of his stripes, with a force that would certainly have killed a not-sheep, so I would have expected that the tip would have been totally buried in his flesh, barbs and all. The blood he shed back there would also seem to indicate that he was more badly injured than this. But this doesn't look bad at all.