by Ruby Dixon
I close my eyes, my cock leaking pre-cum into my loincloth so steadily that I know I am close to losing control.
The world is cruel to present me with such an enticing female, knowing I cannot touch her. Or…I can, but when she finds out the truth of who I am, she will be terribly disappointed. She will be humiliated that she has mated with someone who is not a true hunter. Shame will follow her.
I cannot allow that, so I must control myself.
I glare up at the stars, hating all of them in this moment.
I wake up before dawn, my senses on alert.
Something is…off.
Frowning to myself, I immediately glance over at R'ven. She is asleep, her mouth open slightly, her mane spilling out onto the sands. Her legs are curled up under the fur and she shivers in the misty, chilled morning. Yearning fills me at the sight of her. I want nothing more than to pull her body against mine and tuck her along my chest, share my warmth with her…but I would not be welcome. I glance up at the sky, and it is ominous, the twin suns hidden behind dark clouds. Perhaps today is not a good day for travel. I think about the icy waters I swam through to find this beach and wonder if we would be better off staying one more day and crafting a raft big enough for all four of us to rest upon comfortably. I rub a hand down my face and pad over to the fire that has somehow gone out again.
Irked, I crouch near it, only to realize that sand has been poured atop the coals. I scowl and look over at Juth's sleep spot, since this is no doubt his handiwork…but his place is empty.
He is gone. His boy, too.
With a grunt, I move over to their sleeping spot and put my hand on the sand. The impressions of their sleeping bodies are there, but the sand is cold; they have been gone for some time. Did they get frightened and wander away? I look up and down the beach, wondering if they woke before I did somehow, but their footsteps move to the distant water's edge and disappear. I lean in and inhale; their scents are stale and old.
They planned this, then. They had no intention of returning to the camp with us.
I want to be angry, but in truth, I understand Juth's reluctance. It is change, and change is not necessarily welcomed. He has gone through enough in the past few turns of the moon—we all have—that change is not welcomed. I suspect he has planned this all along. Our agreement was that he would return R'ven in exchange for food supplies for himself and his son. I did not think such an agreement was necessary if he was to be joining the mix of tribes, but I see now why he insisted.
Clever, that one. I can still hold up my end of the bargain, at least. I will set supplies out for him a short distance from camp and see if he arrives to take them. Something tells me that he will. Something tells me that he has been watching our camp for some time, and looked for an opportunity to bargain with us, and R'ven was the opportunity he sought.
I am oddly relieved he has never shown interest in claiming her as his mate, like the Tall Horn clan members M'tok and S'bren when they stole females. They stole them to ensure resonance; Juth stole R'ven to barter for supplies. I glance over at my female—not mine, I remind myself—and that is when I notice it.
The fur I loaned Juth and Pak to sleep in is gone.
So is my pack.
I make a sound of frustration, because inside that pack were my striking stones for making fire, my knife, my net, rope, and the last of my food stuffs. Everything is gone except the fur R'ven is wearing right now, and my tunic.
"U'dron?" R'ven sits up, yawning. "What's wrong?"
Sand is on her cheek, and I absently reach over to brush it off, skimming my fingers along her soft skin. I realize what I am doing and freeze, and R'ven shrinks away. Fool, I tell myself. She does not want you. She has learned your secret and does not welcome the touch of a male who is not a true hunter. She is not yours to touch.
My voice is flat with anger—at myself—as I answer her. "Juth and Pak have left in the middle of the night and taken all our supplies."
"They what?" Her eyes widen and she looks over in surprise at the now empty shelter. "Oh no. They were supposed to come back with us. How are they going to take care of themselves out here if they're all alone?" She sounds so miserable at the thought, her soft heart worried for them. "We need to find them."
"I do not think they want to be found."
As if agreeing with us, the skies open up and begin to pelt ice down upon us. R'ven scoots farther under the shelter, and I quickly join her, stepping out of the bad weather.
R'ven curls her legs up, tucking the fur around her body, her brows furrowed. "You're sure they're gone? What if…what if they got lost?"
"He did not get lost. He did not wish to return with us."
Her expression turns sad. "It would be so much better for them if they did. Poor Pak." After a moment, she adds, "Poor Juth."
I am amazed at how she can still feel sympathy for them. I move farther under the flimsy shelter, even as the ice pellets ping against it, coating the ground with tiny frozen white balls. They hammer against the wood and slip through the cracks, smacking against us like pebbles. "You still take their side?"
"Well, yeah." She gives me a wounded expression. "They've had a shitty hand dealt to them and they're surviving the only way they know how. I just want them to have a good life. I want to help them."
"Even though they stole you?"
"People sometimes do bad things for good reasons," she says, and stares off at the ocean, deliberately avoiding looking at me. "Doesn't make them bad people."
I grunt. I try to imagine what Juth's life would have been like if he was part of a clan. He would not have such a wary expression on his face. He would not snatch at food offered to him or put out fires. He would not watch my possessions with such an avid stare. I noticed how he gazed at my knife, how he'd touched the fur I loaned him for a bit longer than necessary. I suspect these things are a luxury to him, and…if that is the case, he is welcome to them.
It is inconvenient, but it also means another day or two out here with R'ven, and I cannot complain about that.
R'ven rests her arms on her knees and gazes glumly out at the pebbled rain. "What now?"
I shrug. "We wait for this to stop, and then we prepare to return."
"You don't want to go look for Juth and Pak?" She turns to gaze up at me.
"Do you?" I am surprised. "I do not think they wish to be found."
"That doesn't mean we should give up on them."
The vehemence in her tone is startling. I think back on what I have said, wondering if I have possibly offended her, but I can think of nothing. "Why are you so defensive, R'ven?"
"I'm not," she protests, and then shakes her head, turning back to glare at the water once more. "Forget it. We'll just go back."
I feel as if I have done something wrong…and I am not sure what. This is all going so badly. I just wanted to save R'ven, to have her look at me with pleasure…and now she will not look at me at all. I wipe my sweaty palms on my legs. "How…is your ankle?"
"Fine."
"May I see it?"
She shoots me a look, and I notice her cheeks are curiously pink. "Do you need to?"
"It would make me feel better knowing you are not in pain and just covering it." I move to stand in front of her, forcing her to look at me. "You are angry at me, but all I want is for you to be safe and comfortable."
Her expression softens, and she glances up at me. Our eyes meet and hold for a long moment, and then she sighs. "I'm not mad at you, U'dron. I'm just…disappointed. In us."
I drop to my knees before her, uncovering her small foot from the thick fur so I can examine it. It is something to do with my hands, at least, when all I truly want to do is grab the borrowed tunic she is wearing, rip it off of her body, and lick her all over until she makes the soft squeals I have heard coming from the huts of the mated pairs. I take her ankle in my grip, running my fingers over her skin. It looks healthy and there is no swelling. I skim a touch against her skin, but I can see no marks
or any indication that she has been bitten. Her skin is soft, her ankle delicate, and so small in my hand. I cannot resist running my fingers up her calf before I set her foot down. "It looks well enough."
"Yeah." Her voice is soft. I glance over at her and she gazes at my mouth, her expression distracted. A lovely scent picks up on the breeze—her arousal. Just from me touching her foot?
I bite back a groan of frustration and jerk to my feet again, my cock becoming hard and insistent with need. "I will check the shore for signs of Juth and his son. Stay here." I storm away before she can see the evidence of my arousal, my tail flicking with frustration.
It is unfair that the perfect female should want me and I must turn her away. The ice pellets smack against my skin like a thousand tiny nibbles of angry fish, and I welcome the distraction. The storm does not let up, and soon the entire beach is crusted in a new white layer that is slippery underneath my boots. I skid along the surface with awkward footing, but if Juth left footprints, they are covered now. I try to follow his scent for a time instead, but it leads to the water's edge and then disappears. He is smart, this one. I imagine him with his son on his shoulders, holding my pack and walking at the edge of the rolling waves to hide any trace of him. He could be in a cave nearby…or he could be far, far away. I turn and glance back at R'ven, but the small form of her is still in the shelter.
As I look over at her, I can see her distant figure turn toward me, as if she is seeking me out. I am too far to see her expression, but another wave of hot yearning courses through me. We have been friends all this time, her and I. Good friends. Secret friends. I feel it is all slipping away, and I am helpless to stop it.
Something must change. But what? I cannot change my shame. I cannot hold a proving competition, because there is no island. There is no clan to rejoice in my triumph. There is no sky-claw to bring down with honor.
I am trapped in the past, even in this new place. It is unfair, and for a moment, frustration boils over inside me. The ice pings at my horns and smacks against my face in a steady rain, as if mocking me. Here is another thing that is wrong with this new world. The rain is frozen, the world is cold, and I do not fit in, even here. I pick up a large piece of wood, intending to bring it back for the fire. Instead, it falls apart when I touch it, half of it collapsing back onto the sand and leaving me with nothing but a waterlogged handful of mildew. With a growl of frustration, I kick it aside, watching as it skids over the ice like a raft.
That makes me pause. I put my hands on my hips and grunt at the sight of it. Well, if I am to be here with R'ven while we wait for the storm to finish, I suppose I can make a raft. I have been worried about how to keep her safe through the waters I swam in—she is smaller and does not camouflage, so she can be seen as easy prey for the water creatures. Add in the storm and her bad ankle, and it makes sense to wait another day and build a raft.
After all, a raft could keep her safe.
With a pleased grunt, I get to work.
11
U’DRON
Working with my hands is a good distraction. My anger and frustration ebb as I take it out on the wood, lifting great piles to look for less rotted pieces underneath. It has all sat on the beach for some time at this point, and several pieces are too destroyed by the constant saltwater to be used. It makes me grieve to see so much wreckage on the shore, surrounded by dead leaves and rotted vines. I even find the occasional carcass of a kaari in the mix, bloated and half-eaten by shell-wearing scavengers. This is all from my home, and to see it all heaped onto the shore to rot makes my spirit sad. I remember trees of heart-wood, and the leafy green bushes with bright yellow flowers and thick, prickly trunks. Now only the trunk remains, and everything is covered in a grimy layer of ash.
It takes some time before I pull out enough wood to make a decent raft, and even more time before I find a length of bristle-wood, which can be peeled into hardy strips and woven into rope. As I pull my supplies out of the debris, I find a branch of ground nuts, still attached to the branch itself in a thick cluster. My heart pounds at the sight of it, and I pick it up, shaking the nuts. There is no sound of sloshing inside, which means the contents might still be good. I sniff one, and the scent of it brings back memories of home, of my mother cracking one open with her knife and offering me half, a cheerful smile on her face, my little brother strapped to her back.
Loss hits me, and I stare down at the branch, numb with missing my family and my home. It has all been taken from me. Most days I can live with it, but sometimes a certain scent will hit and then the sadness seems never-ending. I want to toss the ground nuts aside so I do not have to smell them any longer, so the memories will leave.
But R'ven needs something to eat, and if they are still good, it will save me from fishing for our dinner. My head full of thoughts of the past, I grab the cluster of nuts and head toward the shelter.
To my surprise, there is a fire crackling in front of the shelter. R'ven teases a large log over the flames, glancing up at me as I arrive. "You built this?" I ask, astonished.
Her mouth flattens into a line. "Why is that so hard to believe? I can do things other than sing and dance."
Why does that make her angry? "I know you can," I tell her, bewildered at her frustration. "I am just pleased. It is not easy to make a fire without striker stones. I thought to spend a good deal of time trying to make a fire without them now that Juth is gone with our supplies. I am pleased it is done and you are warm and taken care of."
"Oh." She looks uncomfortable. "The stones were easy to find. They're all over this beach and glitter in the right light, so I grabbed a few." R'ven curls up under the shelter again. She has a long branch and uses it to poke the fire. "Sorry if I snapped at you. I just…" She lets out a breath. "I'm in a rotten mood."
I know why she is. The answer is as obvious as my straining loincloth whenever I am near her. We are pricking at each other, unsure if we wish to start a fight, like a pair of moody night flyers. Or at least, I think she wishes to start a fight…I just want her to put her mouth on me, to put my hand back on her soft teat so I can feel the peak stiffen against my fingers. I want to lay her down on the sands and put my tongue to her skin, tasting her everywhere.
I dump the armful of wood near the fire in frustration and snap a piece in half. It feels good to break things, at least. "I am going to build a raft. You can rest your ankle for another day. Once the weather is clear and the raft is built, we will float our way back to the others."
"That's a good idea," R'ven says, offering me a small smile. "It'll give Juth time to return in case he changes his mind."
He will not change his mind, I think. I suspect he is nearby, watching us, waiting for us to leave more supplies so he can steal them again. It is what I would do if I were in his position. A good hunter watches his prey and learns its movements so he knows when to strike.
Not that I am a true hunter. The thought makes me clench my jaw in frustration, and I pick up another piece of wood and break it over my knee, adjusting the size so it will work for our raft. Or…just because it feels good to take my frustration out on it.
R'ven clears her throat. "Are you cold? Do you want your tunic back?"
I glance down at my body. I am wearing my boots and loincloth, my warm tunic currently on her body. I do not know where my leggings have gone to—and I suspect that they are somewhere on Juth's body right about now, that thief. I am not cold, though, despite the icy weather. If anything, I have worked up a sweat. "You keep it."
The thought of R'ven wearing nothing but the fur makes me sweat even more. It reminds me of last night, when she pushed her soft teat against my hand and it felt so perfect, so—
I turn and march away to grab another pile of wood so she does not see the problem in my loincloth. There is no point to dragging all the wood over to her side to work, except that I just want to be near her. I can put a raft together as easily on the beach as I can next to the fire…but I end up making more work for mysel
f anyhow, just to be near her.
12
RAVEN
"There is food."
U'dron's cranky voice draws me out from my reverie. We're both in rotten moods, me staring into the fire and wishing that fate had been kinder to me, and U'dron…well, U'dron is probably pissy that he can't get back to his resonance mate. He's been sporting wood all day long as he marches back and forth, gathering wood from the shore and piling it close to our camp. I guess I'm supposed to be polite and not notice, but…yeah, that's not who I am as a person.
Heck, I'm doing my best not to stare right now even though his massive thighs are glistening with sweat and flexing every time he rips apart a piece of wood. It just draws my attention to his loincloth, which seems small and completely inadequate right about now. "Food?" I ask dimly. "Juth left something behind?"
U'dron snorts. "No, that scavenger has cleaned this beach of all of my things. I found ground nuts when searching for wood for our raft." He comes and sits next to me, folding his big legs under as he takes his place by the fire. "They might be a little bitter, but the meat in them will be good and if we roast them, it will hide the flavor." He hesitates and then holds the branch out to me. "They are from my home."
His voice is soft as he says it, and I realize that this is a big deal for him, sharing this with me. It's one of the last meals he'll ever have from the island itself. I can't imagine I'd be so generous if someone put a pizza under my nose. I touch his arm. "Thank you. These are the ones Lauren had when she was on the island?" When he nods, I touch one, studying it. They're smaller than coconuts, hard and brown and the size of a tennis ball, maybe bigger, the shell a plain, unassuming brown. There's six in the cluster, and the branch looks withered and pathetic after being left on the beach for so long. I offer the branch back to him. "Will you show me how to open one?"
U'dron nods and picks one up. Before I can ask if we need a knife of some kind, he grabs one and SLAMS it against his brow.