by Ruby Dixon
I immediately head forward and pluck her off the cliff, my hands around her waist. “You are not climbing up to get that skin!”
“S’bren!” She flails in my arms like a kit. “I want that material. Do you know all the things we can use that for?”
“Then I will get it for you,” I declare. I eye the tall, narrow cliff and think of P’nee climbing up—and then falling back down to the ground because her human hands are small and easily cut by rock. I turn to glare at her, shrugging my heavy pack off my shoulders. I hand her my spear, and then take off my heaviest cloak, wrapping it around her. “You stay here. I will go up and retrieve your pair-shoot. I am not going to have my mate risk her neck on a bit of fur—”
“It’s not fur,” she protests, but she’s smiling.
“I do not care what it is. You are not getting it.”
“You’re sexy when you’re protective.” P’nee winks at me.
I just give her a disgruntled look. “Do not distract me. I am angry you even thought I would let you climb up.”
She just laughs at my scowl, gives me a pat, and then points at her pair-shoot. “You’re a good man, S’bren.”
“I know,” I mutter, and start climbing. I am strong and have long limbs, so it does not take me long to get up the rocky cliff. It is steeper than it looks from the ground, and I am doubly glad I stopped P’nee before she could get far. I imagine my fragile, soft mate losing her grip and falling to the ground below, and it fills me with frustration. Why does she not realize how delicate she is? Why does she not think before she acts?
I am going to lecture her when I get back down the cliff, I decide, as I reach the pair-shoot and lift a hand to grab at it. The leather—if it is leather—is strange and slippery, thin and cold. I manage to snag a handful of it and jerk at the material.
“Don’t tear it,” P’nee calls from below.
“I am freeing it,” I yell back. “It is stuck.”
“Untangle it,” she says helpfully. “I’ll wait here.”
“Yes you will,” I bellow. “Do not think to come up here and help!”
The light sound of her laughter drifts from below, and as I shake my head, I am smiling. She is an impossible female…and yet I would not change a thing. I am more careful with my next few tugs on the strange leather, until finally it pulls free. I toss it down to my mate, and sure enough, it flutters and drifts away, lighter than a feather.
P’nee claps her hands and laughs, chasing after the leather as it heads toward a bend in the canyon. “I’ll get it. While you’re up there, take a look around and see if you can spot our mystery object?”
It is a good idea. I anchor one arm on the rock and turn my body, looking around from my perch. I am several lengths from the ground, so high up that it would take perhaps ten of me to reach from top to bottom. From here, I can see over the craggy valley, though, and as I look, I see nothing but snow. It is always snowing, though, and if it was something that landed, it would be covered in the pale white powder overnight. So I look for odd shapes in the snow, thinking of the Ancestors’ Cave and the strange shape of it that stood out so starkly from the rest of the weathered surroundings. I can see the twisting rocks that make up the narrow pathways we journey through, and I am distracted as my mate reaches the leather pair-shoot and picks it up. I can see the delight on her face as she studies it, touching the slippery material and then brushing it over her face. Seeing that makes my cock hard, and I imagine lying P’nee back on the strange leather of the pair-shoot and licking her sweet cunt while she rubs herself on the material…
I slap my own cheek, forcing my thoughts to focus. I cannot think about my pretty mate right now. There will be time enough for cunt-licking when we find a cave tonight. For now, she wishes to find this object, and the sooner we find it, the sooner I can take her to safety. I squint, staring intensely at my surroundings. At the narrow canyons that open up to a distant valley. And…there. In the valley, there is a long, dark shape with smooth sides and a fine dusting of snow.
It looks unnatural, so it must be our falling star, as P’nee has called it.
“I see it,” I yell out to her. “It is a big, long stone.”
“Okay!” She cups her hands to her mouth to project her voice. “Is there a crater around it?”
“No!”
“Weird! Why did someone drop a stone?”
“I do not know,” I call back. “Can I come down now?”
“Is there anyone moving around it?” she calls again, now cupping both hands to her mouth. “Maybe it’s a ship?”
A ship…like the Ancestors’ Cave? If she thinks our rock is this size, she will be disappointed. The thing is large—larger than P’nee or myself if I had to guess—but nowhere near cave-sized. I open my mouth to tell her this, but I see the pair-shoot escape her grasp, fluttering away on a strong breeze. My mate gets immediately distracted and chases after it, wading through the thick snow. I swallow a laugh as she hurries so quickly that she loses her footing and stumbles face-first into the snow, because she topples like a kit first learning his steps.
I should get down from here, dust the snow off my mate, and then we will go look at her rock. Then we will find a nice, quiet cave to relax in for the night and—
The snow moves.
I pause, blinking. Nothing happens for a long moment as I stare at the white surroundings, and I am not entirely sure I saw something. I squint, focusing on the strange rock in the distance…and the snow moves near it again.
Uneasy, I look on my P’nee again, who has caught her leather and is folding it again. She faces me, her back to the open canyon behind her, and I see the snow move behind her, too. My body grows cold as something hops, and what looks like a furry white creature hops closer to her.
“P’nee!” I shout, alarmed. “Behind you!”
My mate whirls around, and she spots the same thing I do. I wait for her to scream in terror like T’chai’s delicate mate. Instead, she lets out a bellow of anger, grabs a handful of snow, and throws it at the strange white creatures.
She is not running. I did not know such a sight would fill me with such terror and such pride for her bravery.
“My spear!” I yell at her, hating that I have to turn around to grab the walls so I can climb down after her. I am trapped on the side of this cliff, too high up to jump down, and I am no good to her with a broken leg. “Get my spear, P’nee!”
“Get back, you shitty, ugly-ass bears!” I hear her scream.
I stumble down the cliff face as quickly as I can, sliding down the hard surface and tearing the skin off my palms in my rush. I do not care—all I care about is reaching my mate. When I can wait no longer to get to the bottom, I jump.
It is a hard landing; I was higher up than anticipated, and the shock of hitting the snow-packed ground jars my body. I fight back a wave of pain and race for my spear, then head for my mate’s side. She still confronts the strange creatures, flinging handfuls of snow at them as they hoot and circle around her.
To my relief, they have not attacked her, but they wait and lurk nearby, just out of reach. I cross to her side, pushing her behind me, and face off with the creatures. They are covered in filthy white fur all over, but their faces have bulging eyes and strange, beaky mouths. The hands have long claws and as one crouches, hissing, it occurs to me how like a person it seems. “Is this a tribe of some kind?”
“I think they’re metlaks,” P’nee says, hiding behind me. “Can you make them go away?”
I push backward a few steps, my mate clinging to my back, and feel relief when we press up against the cliff wall. The metlaks still surround us, but P’nee is safe with me in front of her, and that is all that matters. I keep my spear at the ready, pointed at the largest of them, the one that creeps closer than the others. They seem to be waiting for that one to give the go-ahead to attack, and again, I am struck by how much like a tribe they seem.
But it does not matter if they are a tribe, because they have p
ut my P’nee in danger. For that, they must die.
I hiss and jab my spear at the closest one. It hoots and scrambles backward a few steps, then begins to slowly slink forward again. I count the heads—six near us, and as I watch, more approach. We are outnumbered greatly, and soon they will get brave enough to attack.
I will have to get P’nee out of here somehow.
“Any ideas?” my mate asks, tugging on my belt.
I do not take my eyes off of the big, bold one at the front. “I have one idea,” I whisper to my mate. “You hide behind me and I protect you until I fall. Then, you take my spear and run.”
She immediately slaps me on the lower back. “S’bren! That’s a terrible idea!”
“Fine,” I retort. “Then I create a distraction. You take my spear and run.”
“Another terrible idea! You’re the one with camouflage. You should be the one running.”
I am astounded she thinks I would leave her behind to save myself. “Never.”
The big one hisses, and two others get braver, inching forward. I jab my spear at them again and notice that they step back, but less each time. We must do something, and we must do it now, because I will not let P’nee get hurt. “I am going to lunge forward,” I say to her in a low voice. “When I do, I want you to run back to the last hunter cave—”
“S’bren, no—”
“When I count to three,” I begin.
“No! I’m not—”
“One…”
She slaps my back. “I’m not running, S’bren!” P’nee’s hiss is furious. “I’m not leaving you!”
“Two…”
She makes an outraged sound.
“Three!” I call out, and surge forward. “RUN, P’NEE!”
I cannot stop to check and see if my stubborn mate has ran as she was told. I am too busy creating a distraction. I roll my spear down my arm and flip it in the way that always fascinates my mate, and the creatures pause to stare. As they do, I let my spear roll down to my hand and then I flick it at the closest metlak. It lets out a hooting cry and scrambles backward. The two closest to me I grab by the heads and slam them both together, cracking their skulls with a loud bang.
Then the others are on me, hissing and hooting, their claws scratching at my layers of clothing. I hear P’nee screaming in anger as the three creatures attack, and then more of them pile onto me. Claws tear at my mane, rip at my skin, and I reach for handfuls of filthy fur, trying to pry the wild creatures off of me. I manage to grab one and another latches on. I tear it away, only to have a new creature sink its beak into my arm.
A loud, ferocious yell makes the creatures go silent. They freeze, as if panicked, and I use that to my advantage. I grab two hanging off my front, slam their heads together, and toss them aside. I pluck the next one off my shoulder and fling it aside, then pry the jaws of the one off my arm and toss it away. There is one—a small one—chewing on my leg, and I grab it by the scruff on its neck. It would be easy to snap it in half and toss it aside, but there is something too people-like about it, so I fling it away and then brace myself, waiting for more to jump on me.
Instead, the metlaks are scattering. Several scamper away through the snow, while the ones I tossed away are limping back, wary, and making their escape. I snarl at one that hesitates near me, and it hoots and scurries away, disappearing into the snowy landscape.
Cowardly beasts.
Breathing hard, I look around for my mate. My mane is in my face, a short hank of it just above my eyes where one of the creatures tore at my scalp. I am covered in bruises and bite marks and clawed gouges, but none of that matters. I need to see my mate, need to know that she is safe. Blood runs into my eyes and I swipe it aside, irritated, because it is blocking my view.
Then, arms fling around my neck and P’nee launches herself onto me, knocking us both to the ground. “S’bren! Baby! Are you okay?”
I groan—a mix of pain and relief—and run my hands over P’nee’s body. “They did not hurt you, did they?”
She squeals when I hit her ticklish spots. “No! You’re the one that’s all torn up. My poor honey.” P’nee kisses my nose and sighs. “You were so brave.”
“You did not run when I told you to,” I grumble at her. She looks good, though. Unscathed. I am beyond relieved.
“Of course I didn’t. I stayed and tried to distract them. I wasn’t going to let them tear you apart!” She looks indignant at the thought. “Run. Pfft.”
“You are both fools,” says another voice. A male one.
A familiar one.
I sit up, clutching P’nee to my chest, and look for the speaker. Snow is falling again, but it cannot mask the dark slate-blue skin of the hunter that approaches us, spear in hand, a scowl on his face.
Bek.
He is one of the hunters from the sa-khui tribe, one I have not seen for several turns of the moon. He returned to his home not long after I arrived at the beach because he missed his mate. We have not exchanged many words and I am astonished to see him here now. “Why are we fools?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“You are out in the snows, toying with metlaks in the brutal season? They are hungry and bold right now.” He gives us a long look, me with my mate on my lap. The look on his face is shrewd. “Why are you so far away from your camp in the brutal season? Are you stealing a female?”
“No,” P’nee says before I can speak up. Her hand goes protectively over my jaw, her fingers dancing over my mouth as if she wishes to keep me quiet. “I told him I wanted an adventure and so he took me on one.”
Bek digests this, then snorts. “I was right. You are both fools. Save your adventures for the bitter season.”
“What are you doing out here, then?” I ask, speaking around P’nee’s fingers.
“I am taking my mate to the great water for the remainder of the brutal season. It is too cold back in Croatoan.” He thinks for a moment, and then adds, “And she wishes to see the great water for herself.”
“Your mate is here?” P’nee cranes her head, looking around.
“No, my mate is tucked safely away in a hunter cave in those cliffs.” He points at a nearby area. “With a large fire burning to keep the metlak away since there are many in this valley. You should do the same.”
“So you didn’t come out here for the shooting star?” P’nee says excitedly. “Because S’bren saw it! He says it’s nearby.”
“It is a rock,” I add.
Bek looks curious. “A star?”
“Yes,” my mate says, all excitement. “Didn’t you see it a few days ago?”
“No.” Bek thinks for a moment. “But my Ell-ee loves stars. She will want to see it. Wait here and we will find your star together.”
P’nee and I gather our things while we wait for Bek to come back with his mate. She fusses over my cuts and the now-short lock of mane that dangles over my forehead, clucking over me. “I hate that you got all bitten because of me.”
“You did not bite me,” I say, puzzled.
She chuckles, kissing me and then brushing the lock off my forehead again. “I was going to climb up to get the parachute but you did instead. So if you’d been on the ground and our positions reversed, you would have been prepared.”
I snort at that. “You think I would let you climb that high when I am perfectly capable?”
“I’m not helpless!”
“I know this. But I am your mate.”
P’nee just gives me a look. “You have some weird logic, baby.” Her fingers stroke over my cheek thoughtfully again. “But I’m glad you’re okay overall. We should clean these bites so they don’t get infected…but I guess the khui takes care of that, right?”
“Right.” I have never heard of such a thing, infected bites. “I am fine,” I insist, though I like the way she fusses over me. “All of the important parts of my body are intact.”
She boldly cups my cock and gives me a sultry look. “I’ll say they are. I can show you how grateful I am for my
big protector later.” And she winks at me and removes her hand.
I swallow. Hard. I stare down at my lovely mate, imagining such a thing. My mind is on fire with ideas and—
“Ho,” calls Bek.
His timing is terrible.
But P’nee’s eyes light up with excitement. She takes my hand and tugs on it. “Come on, let’s go meet Elly and see our star!”
I adjust my cock under all the layers of my furs. Even though her hand did not even come close to brushing over my skin, I still feel utterly scorched by that playful touch. Scorched…and I cannot stop thinking of what a grateful P’nee might do.
23
PENNY
Elly is absolutely not what I expect when I meet her. I’ve heard from Gail that she’s a quiet sort, and was traumatized by being held by aliens for a long time, but after meeting brusque, no-nonsense Bek, I had a different image in my mind of what his mate would be. Tall, possibly, lean, and yet somehow with a core of steel. Like maybe she looks delicate but can hold down the fort when needed. A bit like Harlow, who’s sweet and devoted but always has her shit together and is tougher than she looks.
I’m not prepared for the elfin-looking waif that clings to Bek’s side.
She looks young. Older than Tia but younger than me. And she’s small, her form practically swallowed up by the layers of clothing she’s swaddled in against the cold. Her face is pointed and thin, and her eyes look enormous and haunted. There’s an overwhelming fragility to her, too. She looks like one of those women that will faint at a bad word or get the vapors when she’s stressed. I wouldn’t say she’s beautiful, but she’s so ethereal that you feel the need to protect her from the rigors of the world.
And she clings to Bek. Absolutely clings. She clutches his arm at all times as they walk, as if she needs his strength to meet us. Bek looks equally smitten with his delicate mate, his expression utterly protective and fierce. I recognize it because it’s the same look S’bren gives me all the time.
I feel like a bit of a cow lumbering up to meet her, the great big ox Penny, with the “healthy” build, who’s never missed a meal in her life. Yeesh. But there’s nothing to do about it, so I smile and hold my hand out to her. “Hey Elly. I’m Penny, from the beach.”