by Shay Savage
Page 2
Her cries grow more piercing, and the sound is starting to hurt my head. I move toward her, and she propels herself backwards on her feet and hands until she hits the dirt side, sending dust all over her. She yells out again, stands, and tries to claw her way to the top of the hole. She’s too small to be successful, and her fingers only barely reach the edge.
Her shoulders rise and fall as her hands slide down the dirt walls. Her sounds stop, and nothing but her breath can be heard as she turns slowly and her wide eyes travel over me. I move closer and look down at her.
I feel the corner of my mouth turn up. Though clearly an adult, not a child, she is a tiny thing. Her head barely comes to my chest. It’s her hair that intrigues me though—it’s very straight, and it shines in the sunlight. I reach my hand up to my shoulder and grab at my own hair, which is rough, tangled, and full of dust and leaves. I had cut it down with a flint knife at the end of the last summer, but it was now near my shoulders again. I take a step closer and reach out with my other hand to touch the smooth locks around her head to see how different it feels.
Again, she begins to cry out, and I am tired of the noisy sounds. It’s dangerous to be making so much noise, and it really does make the sides of my head hurt. I close the gap between our bodies quickly and cover her mouth with my hand to silence her.
I’m surprised when she doesn’t acquiesce but begins to frantically struggle against me instead. She grasps at my arm, and her nails dig into my flesh as she tries to pull my hand away. She kicks at me, and the strange coverings on her feet scrape at the skin of my leg. She is still screaming, but the sound is muffled underneath my hand.
I still can’t properly feel the texture of her hair, so I further restrain her by pushing my body against hers, holding her up against the wall. With the increased leverage, she can’t move as much, and I slowly drag my hand down the length of her hair.
It’s so, so soft!
I have never felt anything like it. It runs all the way from her head to her waist in long, straight strands that do not bunch up together like mine do, but lie next to each other in beautiful lines. The color isn’t unusual—just a shiny, light brown—but the feel of it on my palm is glorious.
I look to her face, and her eyes are closed tightly. Oddly enough, her eyelids are blue, and there is pink and brown coloring running up to her eyebrows. There is also a dark blue, almost black line right around her eyes—both above and below.
I move my hand up and gently touch her eyelid with the tip of my finger. The bright blue color comes off of her skin and onto mine. I look at my finger a moment before trying to wipe the color back onto the skin between her eyebrow and eyelid.
She bites my hand, and I jump back, surprised at the sudden pain and not the least bit pleased. My eyes narrow into a glare, and I push my body harder against hers, roaring into her face as I grab onto her arm to show my dominance. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see and feel the fear in her. I am quickly contrite, not truly meaning to frighten her, though I do not want her to bite me again. I take her chin between my fingers and grip it as I growl softly in warning.
She goes motionless, and I know I have won her over. I turn her head gently to the side with a firm grip on her jaw and use the other hand to touch her hair again. I am fascinated by its texture. As I touch it, l look down the rest of her body, still confused by her strange, colorful clothing. My fingers run over the fabric at her shoulder, and I hear her sharp intake of breath. When I look back to her, her eyes are downcast, and her lips are drawn into her mouth around her teeth. I pull at the skin below her lip to stop her from hurting herself, and a shudder runs through her body.
The heat from her body warms me, and I think about how she is the only person I have seen since I have been on my own. She’s small but looks to be healthy. She has strong teeth, judging by the bite-marks on my hand. Even though her clothing is strange, she could make something more suited to a female from the furs I have in my cave, and I decide I’m going to bring her back with me.
Glancing up at the top of the hole, I know I will have to get her out of it though part of me wants to keep her right here, knowing she cannot move away from me. I look her over and feel myself smile again. Even out of this space, she will not be able to escape me. She is small and obviously weak. Though I am not as strong as I will be later in the summer when I have had more food, I am still much more powerful than she.
Thinking of the meat cooking over the fire causes my stomach to twist again, and I decide I need to get us both back to my cave quickly. The day is getting late, and the sky will soon turn the colors of her strange tunic.
Kneeling, I wrap my arms around her legs. She lets out a squeal, but thankfully, it only lasts a moment. I rise up and toss her out of the top of the hole, quickly following by pulling myself up with my arms. By the time I have tossed a leg over the side, she is on her feet and looking in all directions.
There’s little to see—the dry grass of the steppes and the jagged cliffs to one side. Off in the distance, the edge of a row of evergreens can be found, but the other trees are nothing but bare trunks now. There is a small creek and a lake beyond, but they are too far to be seen from here.
I take her wrist in my grasp and start walking toward the cliff walls and my home. As she had in the pit, she begins to struggle and grab at my hand and arm. She tries to back away from me, her arm extended as she turns and tries to escape through the use of brute force.
It’s…cute.
I yank her toward me, and she stumbles a bit before her body crashes into mine. Her mouth moves, and a lot more sounds come out. She’s not screaming any longer, and the odd, varying tones are not like anything I have heard before. I don’t like them—not at all. They are a little quieter than the yelling, but they are still loud enough to attract attention. I place my free hand firmly over her mouth again but only for a moment. I don’t want to be bitten.
Her eyes narrow, and the next sounds almost resemble the snarl of a great cat. Well, the young of a great cat, maybe. The thought makes me laugh, and she cringes away from me again though I do not release her wrist.
She is so beautiful—her smooth hair and her deep eyes and her creamy, pale skin. I don’t like the noises she makes, but she looks to be able enough, even if she is small. I briefly wonder if she is fertile and if she would bear a child who looks like me.
I like this idea.
A lot.
Finally, after all this time alone, I have a mate.
CHAPTER TWO
I bend over to grab the forgotten spear in my other hand. Though the woman must understand that her resistance isn't working, she continues to pull at my fingers as I drag her toward the cliffs and the cave. I don't know why she does so—it’s not working, and the sun is low in the sky. Before long it will be dark, and she has to understand how dangerous it will be for her if she is left out in the open at night. Many nighttime predators were going to be waking up soon and starting their nightly prowls. We need the safety of the cave.
Apparently, she doesn’t care because she continues to screech and make those awful noises all the way back to the rock. I sigh and trudge on, hoping once she is inside and knows she is safe from the elements, she will stop with the noises.
Thankfully, there is still some light outside when we reach the slight incline to the opening in the rock and my cave. I stop just outside and push her in front of me, pointing toward the dark crack in the rock. She looks at it and then to me, her eyes narrowed. Sliding my hand up to the top of her arm, I urged her forward and closer to the crack between the large rocks with another push. She resists, and I shove her harder, my patience waning. Her hand flies out in front of her as she stumbles over her own feet, and I wonder if the strange foot coverings are somehow hindering her movement.
She manages to catch herself on the edge of the rock near the opening, but she makes no move to go inside. Instead, she turns back to me, and her mouth o
pens again. More sounds come out—louder this time. She yanks her arm from my grip, and her hands ball into fists that she shakes at me as she makes more sounds. With my head tilted to one side, I listen for a moment, but it is just noise, and I tire of it quickly. I’m hungry and I want her inside where we will be safe before the sun sets.
I growl low at her and step forward, pressing her against the rock next to the cave’s opening. My hand goes over her mouth again, but this time my fingers slip around her jaw to hold it closed so she cannot bite. She looks over my shoulder, but there is nothing to be seen for miles around us. Capturing her attention, I look straight into her eyes for a moment before I step back and push her toward the cave entrance again.
This time, she complies, and I take a deep breath. At least she is coming to her senses and doing what I want. She doesn’t have to turn sideways for her shoulders to fit through the opening as I do, but her steps are still slow and cautious. Again I consider her strange footwear and think they might be the cause of her hesitation.
The narrow crack in the rocks is only a few feet long and quickly opens up into the small, single area that is my home. As we enter, we both pause while our eyes adjust to the firelight. There is still some sunlight since the cave entrance faces the sunset, but it is darker than being out in the open.
I have been here since the autumn after the forest fire destroyed my home and tribe. I have always thought it was a good, comfortable cave, but now that I have brought my new mate here, I wonder what she thinks of it. I grasp her hand and show her what I have, which takes very little time. It’s not a large cave at all, just a single room with a depression in the back where I could store containers of food if I had any to store. Along the back is a small ledge which is good for keeping items off the ground. The ledge holds my flint and stone tools as well as the stomachs of two antelope which are filled with water. A little embarrassed by the lack of food, I show her the stone-lined fire pit in the front of the cave with the meat cooking on the spit. I point to the position of the fire, which allows the smoke to go out the entrance without making it difficult to breathe inside, even in the winter.
I glance at her, feeling nervous as I release her hand. She clasps her hands together in front of her, and her head moves slowly from one side to the other as she examines her surroundings.
Does she think it is good enough? What if she thinks it is too small? After so much time alone, I hadn’t considered that I might find a mate and hadn’t collected the things she would want and need to start her life with me. Now that I am thinking about it, I realize I have very little to offer a mate, not even much in the way of food.
With that thought, I remember my cooking and kneel down by the spit on the fire, my sudden and ravenous hunger overshadowing my thoughts surrounding my mate’s first impression of my home. I tear off a strip of the meat and chew on the end of it. It is warm from the fire and nicely fat from the animal’s winter stores. I gnaw on it until I have devoured the first piece, grab for another, and then another after that.
When I look up, I see her watching me. As I chew, I wonder if she is also hungry and groan at myself. Here I am hoping to impress my new mate with the cave, and I haven’t even fed her! Choosing what looks to be the best piece, I jump quickly to my feet. She startles and steps away from me as I approach, holding out a strip of the antelope’s tender flesh for her.
Her eyes are wide again, and her hands tremble. Her head jerks from one side to the other as she continues to back away from me. I hold the meat out to her in offering again, but she starts making those sounds just before she bolts off to one side, heading back to the entrance of the cave.
Instinctively I dart after her, grabbing her around the waist before she can get more than an arm outside. It will be dark very soon; the sun has almost completely disappeared over the horizon. She would never survive the night alone and out in the open. I pull her back against my chest and drag her toward the fire.
My ears start to ring with the sounds coming from her mouth. She alternates between screams that sound as though she is in agony and the strange, more fluid sounds that come from the back of her throat. They are unusual, rhythmic, and I still don’t like them.
Her fingers claw at my arms as I wrap them both around her torso and sit down on a torn grass mat next to the fire with my mate in my lap. I hold her tight against me as I look around the cave and wonder what she does not like. She is obviously very upset about something, and she continues to twist and turn in my grasp as I try to determine what could be considered so lacking.
It occurs to me that it might be the whole place. It is small—perfectly fine for me but not large enough for her and her children. I only have one grass mat, and it’s not very well made, but she could make more of those over the winter. She has certainly noticed I don’t have any food left over from the winter and is probably worried I won’t be able to provide enough for us both. Except for my recent kill, I don’t have any food at all. She might even think I don’t have enough wood to keep us warm, but I have more in another crevice in the rock up above the cave. It is too dark outside now to show it to her, but I could reassure her in the morning.
I let her struggle against me until her movements slow down and eventually stop. I am pleased that I was right about my strength compared to hers. She would at least know I was strong enough to protect her.
I feel myself smile again, and I wonder if she will eat now.
Before I can offer her the meat once more, my mate’s body shudders from her head to her feet as she begins to shake in my arms. I quickly flip her around so I can see her face, and I notice the tears staining her cheeks as the moisture is caught in the light from the fire. I examine her quickly—as much as I can see, anyway. With her strange clothes, it’s hard to see if her legs might be injured, but I don’t think she has been hurt. She is crying, but I don’t understand why. Was I already a bad mate for her? Was my cave really that inadequate? I would find her another one—there had to be more around in the rocks. If not, I could search for a new place, one that was bigger and better and perfect for her.