She nodded. “In the Sanctuary, but nowhere else. Even there, the number is far fewer, but it’s better than it would have been if the state hadn’t taken action early on. They’re a national treasure.” She shivered unexpectedly. “Did the temperature just drop?”
He leaned back and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the heat of his body. “It happens on the slopes after sunset when the day’s heat rushes to escape the deep rift. It never comes from as deep as the swamp itself, but the slopes can get cool.”
“This is the freakiest planet,” she grumbled, hugging her arms and grateful for his warmth. “Aren’t you cold?”
He shrugged. “I don’t get cold.”
“Not ever?”
“Sometimes in the snow. And don’t even mention my DNA.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t going to. That’s a simple adaptation. Everyone does that.”
“Sleep,” he ordered.
“We can trade off watch shifts. How long does night last?”
“That’s not necessary. I’m a light sleeper. If anything comes within ten feet of us, I’ll know it.”
“Another adaptation, Aidan?”
“Absolutely. I’m a hunter. We sleep in the wild as often as in our beds.”
“Tell me about these hunters,” she murmured, her eyes closing. It had been a long, tiring day. “Is it a family thing? A professional guild? What?”
“A little of both. Go to sleep.”
“You’re very secretive.” She surrendered to sleep almost before the last word left her lips, and the last thing she remembered was the touch of Aidan’s lips on the top of her head.
…
The next morning Rachel was convinced she must have imagined that kiss because the Aidan who’d held her while she slept had been replaced by his drill-sergeant alter ego. He’d woken her at the precise moment the sun hit their tree. Although to say it hit their tree would be a gross exaggeration. A pale facsimile of sunshine barely brushed the treetops above them. She knew it was sunrise more by the change in the sounds of the forest than the tiny bit of brightened light around them.
“Grab your energy bar, lass. It’s time to move.”
“Good morning to you, too,” she muttered. “Can I pee first?”
He laughed. “Sure. I wouldn’t recommend squatting too close to the ground, though. You never know what might poke its head out and take a bite.”
“Thank you for that vivid picture, but I’m fully aware of the precautions one must take when peeing in the wild.”
“Only for women.”
“Oh ho, is that what they’ve told you? I’ve been on planets where things will reach out, take a bite, and climb right up your dick.”
He jerked in shock, and Rachel would have sworn she heard a gasp, although he’d no doubt deny it. She wasn’t that discreet. She laughed, and he poked her in the side. “Are you serious?”
She lowered herself the final few feet to the ground, watchful for unpleasant surprises. “Hell, yeah, I am,” she told him, checking the ground around her. “It’s most unpleasant getting them out, too. Had it happen to a guy I dated a few times.”
“So much for that romance, I’d imagine.”
“He wasn’t feeling amorous for months after, that’s for sure. But we were over before it happened.”
“How come?” Aidan didn’t bother with caution. He jumped directly from the branch where they’d slept to stand next to her. Rachel stared up, measuring the distance. It had to be fifteen feet, maybe more. And yet he’d landed as light as a cat.
“I travel a lot, which means I’m gone a lot. He wanted someone more available.”
He hummed wordlessly.
“What about the women here on Harp?” she asked.
“Well, they don’t travel,” he said, laughing.
“You’re evading the question.”
He shrugged. “It’s different here. Nobody lives far from family. The only ones who travel any distance are the loggers, and their families travel with them.”
“And the hunters, I’d imagine,” Rachel said, stepping behind a tree where hopefully he couldn’t watch her squat. She’d have liked to go out of hearing distance, as well, but that was pure vanity. Everyone pees. Far better to have your companions listen to you pee, than to be so far away that they can’t help you if a monster attacked.
“Some of us travel the Green a lot,” he conceded. “Some remain close to home.”
Rachel pulled up her pants. This was about the time in any expedition where she began longing for a hot shower. She sighed, knowing it would probably be weeks before that happened. The best she could hope for until then would be a quick dip in a cold stream.
“You ready to move?” he asked, standing right in front of her when she rounded her tree.
She gazed up at him and saw the slight crinkling of his eyes. He’d done that on purpose. Ah, Aidan, she thought. Payback’s gonna be a bitch. She smiled sweetly and said, “I’m ready. Do you want an energy bar?”
He gave her a suspicious look but asked, “How many of those things do you have left?”
Rachel reached into her pack and counted. “Ten.”
“All right, yeah, I’ll take one. But we’re having meat for lunch and dinner.”
“Cooked meat?” Not all cultures cooked their protein.
“Unless you’d prefer it raw?” he asked curiously.
“No, no. Just checking.”
“Can we start walking now?”
She rolled her eyes. Like she was the reason they were still standing there.
“Walk where I walk,” he cautioned.
Rachel nodded as she settled her backpack once more. She’d done this so many times on so many planets that she barely noticed the weight anymore. She followed Aidan downward, keeping her eye on his footsteps but pausing to scan the rest of their surroundings, too. The tree canopy didn’t seem that much thicker than it had above, but it grew increasingly dark as they descended, as if the sun couldn’t penetrate the deep crevice in the earth. She thought it possible there’d be an hour every day when the sun was directly above and shining into the deep, narrow rift, but no more than that. Her foot slipped, but she caught herself easily. This wasn’t the first treacherous ground she’d had to navigate, but she had to admit that Harp’s swamp had little to recommend it. The slope was slick with rotting vegetation and probably equally rotting animal matter, and the stench was unbelievable. It surrounded them like a heavy wet blanket, as if particles of the rot were floating in the air, landing on her clothes, her exposed skin…her hair. She found herself wishing she’d worn a hat.
The morning passed without incident. Aidan walked with confidence, seeming to know where to step to avoid whatever swamp hazards lay in wait. In fact, Rachel was beginning to think he’d exaggerated the dangers, hoping to scare her off from going after Wolfrum altogether. They’d seen so little wildlife that she wondered what he planned to hunt down for that promised hot lunch. Her stomach growled on cue, and she looked up to ask him about it, when he abruptly lost his footing and flew several feet downslope.
Rachel’s first reaction was shock. Every experienced trekker she knew tripped and stumbled on occasion, including her. But not Aidan. She’d never seen him so much as take a misstep. Every foot he placed, every hand when he climbed, was perfectly balanced and exactly where it needed to be. Her instincts were screaming something was wrong before he’d hit the ground.
Aidan shouted a warning, but she’d already seen it. He hadn’t fallen. There was a giant snakelike thing wrapped around his leg and moving rapidly up to squeeze his torso. One of his arms was still free, and he had his knife out, stabbing at any part of the creature he could reach. But it wasn’t going to be enough. It was a monster snake, several times wider around than Rachel, its body coiling up to tighten around Aidan’s chest. It would squeeze the life out of him, shutting down his lungs, his heart. Already she could hear him straining to draw enough breath to curse, could see the power
in his thrusts weakening.
Rachel put away her own belt knife. She’d grabbed it instinctively, but it wouldn’t even irritate the giant snake. Dropping her pack to the ground, she yanked at the straps holding her crossbow, nocked two bolts, and slipped two more into her belt. Doing a quick eyeball assessment of the snake’s body, which was twisting in the undergrowth as it fought to control Aidan, she took a few experimental steps forward and stopped, but the creature ignored her. She walked closer.
“Rachel,” Aidan wheezed. “Stay back.” He was on the ground now, still slashing but growing weaker.
She ignored him, just as the snake was ignoring her. It was in full-on attack mode, totally focused on disabling its prey—which happened to be Aidan—before eating him whole. Stepping carefully—a misstep here could be fatal for both of them—she said softly, “Aidan.”
He looked up and met her eyes, then glanced at the crossbow and shook his head. “No,” he said in warning.
She smiled. “Trust me.” Cocking the crossbow and hoping this damn creature really was a snake, she drew a deep breath, slid her foot forward…and nearly went down as a length of the thick body whipped against her leg. “Fuck.”
“Rachel,” Aidan growled.
She ignored him. This damn snake was not going to defeat her, and it was sure as hell not going to kill Aidan. He was far too much alive to die. Switching her gaze from the twisting coils to her feet, to the snake’s head, and back again, she glided cautiously over the slick ground until she came within touching distance. The snake’s eyes were closed, all of its energy and instincts focused on crushing its prey. Planting both feet, she placed the point of the bolt precisely above and between the creature’s closed eyes and let fly from only inches away.
The bolt hit with a dull thud, smashing the skull with an audible crack. The snake seemed to reel, its head waving loosely, eyes flickering in her direction. But it wasn’t dead, and she didn’t hesitate. Reptile brains were tiny. Aiming for the green fluid dripping out of the crack in the skull, and hoping her memory of reptile brains was accurate, she fired the second bolt, then pulled out her boot knife, prepared to dig around in the creature’s skull if that’s what it took to finish it off.
The massive body collapsed in a slow wave, filling the air with a slithering rush of sound until, finally, the coils surrounding Aidan relaxed. He staggered slightly but didn’t fall, grabbing her instead and running uphill, dragging her with him until they hit the nearest tree.
“Climb,” he ordered, his voice still strained, as if his lungs weren’t yet working fully.
“Aidan,” she protested, but he gripped her around the waist and lifted her until she could grab the first low branch.
“Climb, damn it.”
Not understanding, but infected by the urgency in his voice, she slung the crossbow awkwardly over her shoulder and climbed.
“Keeping going.” He was right behind her, his hand on her thigh, as if ready to give her a push.
“Aidan, what—?”
“Higher.”
Hearing the strain in his voice, she twisted to look back at him. Those gold flecks in his eyes were too bright in the dark shadows of the downslope, the muscles on his arms flexing visibly beneath the thin tunic.
She levered herself onto a thick branch—twenty feet up and big enough to hold both of them—and stopped. She wanted to know what was happening. The damn snake was dead. What could possibly—? She looked down and gagged. Something was eating the snake from the inside out. The skin split wide open to disgorge a black swarm of beetle-like creatures that quickly covered the carcass. And they just kept coming.
“What the hell is that?” Rachel whispered.
“Snipes,” Aidan said from where he was perched right next to her. “They have a symbiotic relationship with the python. They keep its gut clean of bones and other indigestibles, until it dies. And then their eggs hatch and their population multiplies over and over. The dead snake feeds their offspring, and they go looking for a new host. And they’re not picky about what they eat in the meantime. Everything and anything becomes food, including half-dead hunters and pretty Earthers with fancy crossbows.”
Rachel smiled at the description then elbowed him gently. “You weren’t half dead. More like two-thirds.”
…
Aidan chuckled, though the whole situation grated. If he’d been alone, he’d have shifted and the damn python would have been his lunch, instead of the other way around. He’d been moments away from saying the hell with it and shifting anyway. There was no way in hell that they were going to finish this mission without Rachel learning about shifters, anyway. So why the fuck should he have to wrestle with a damn python while it choked the breath out of him?
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he told her lightly. “And thanks for killing that fucker. How’d you know where to shoot? Their brains aren’t exactly a big target.” He had to admit he was impressed. She’d been cool as a breeze off the glacier.
“I’m a xeno-vet, remember?” she told him. “Reptiles all over the universe seem to share certain anatomical characteristics, including their tiny brains. I took a chance that this guy was a reptile. Looks can be deceiving.”
No shit, Aidan thought. Wait until she set her xeno-vet eyes on a shifter. They both watched in silence as the voracious snipes reduced the python to a pile of dried skin and loose bone and then marched away to find some other host.
“Wow,” Rachel whispered.
“Yep. We should move on. I want to stop for lunch, but…not here.”
She laughed. “Worried you’re still on the menu?” She climbed from the tree with impressive skill, jumping the last few feet.
He followed and then started away. “Sweetheart, on Harp everyone is always on the menu.” Except for shifters, he wanted to add. There were very few creatures on Harp who would attack a shifter and even fewer who’d survive the encounter. He was still irritated as hell that he’d gotten caught the way he had. If any of his cousins learned of it, he’d never hear the end of their jokes. What still really pissed him off, though, was that he’d had to hold back his shift. Normally, he’d never have attempted the swamp in human form. Hell, normally, he’d never have been on the ground at all. He’d have climbed a tree and run over the top of the damn thing.
But then there was Rachel. Who else would make sure she reached the end of her stubborn journey to the city alive? Okay, so any number of his cousins would probably volunteer. Hell, Gabriel already had. But that wasn’t happening. Aidan was her cat, even if she didn’t know it yet. And she was his…something. He didn’t know yet exactly what she was to him. Only that she was his to protect. And, yeah, she actually had damn good survival skills all on her own. That had been a neat trick with the snake. He’d never thought of it. But then he’d never had to because he was a fucking shifter! And that brought him right back to all the reasons he was pissed as hell.
Movement overhead caught his attention. Time for lunch.
Casting his eye about as they walked, he found what he was looking for. Whatever geological forces had created the rift that the swamp called home, the process had left behind enormous boulders scattered at random along both slopes and piled in the center. The rocks were sometimes infested with a variety of small life-forms, or covered over by vegetation, but occasionally there’d be one which stuck out enough to get a little more sunshine, a little less moisture. If one had to make camp on the ground, those were the most likely spots for it.
“Over there,” he told Rachel now, nodding in the direction of the rock cluster. “It’s as safe as anywhere else. You make camp, and I’ll hunt lunch.”
“Wait.” Rachel put a hand on his arm before he could swing into the trees and away. “Shouldn’t we stay together?”
“We are together. I’m not going far.”
She frowned. “What are you—?”
At that moment, a pack of cebas swarmed by overhead, their passage marked only by the swoosh of movement thro
ugh the trees. The swamp version of a banshee, the cebas were eerily silent. The only time they vocalized at all was during mating season, when the males fought for breeding rights. And then the sound was a hoarse grunt, barely discernible beyond a few yards, nothing like the loud chittering of the banshee, which could carry for miles. The other distinguishing aspect of the ceba was less charming. Cebas were green. Not because they’d been born that way, but because they were true swamp-dwellers, their fur covered in green moss. They were slimy on the outside, but very tasty on the inside.
In answer to Rachel’s question, Aidan pointed upward.
“What are those things?” She squinted. “Creepy.”
“Tasty,” he corrected.
She opened her mouth as if to object, but then blew out a resigned breath. “Can I make a fire?”
“Absolutely. Make it a small one and confine it to the rock.” He swung up into the nearest tree. “This won’t take long.”
Aidan felt almost guilty at the freedom zinging through his veins as he climbed into the canopy. It had nothing to do with Rachel and everything to do with who he was. He was a shifter, and it was suffocating to be confined in his human form. He was as much man as cat, but the cat lived closer to nature, with fewer rules. Shedding his clothes and boots, he tied them into a bundle and stashed them in a tree fork. Then, with a yowling call to remind the swamp dwellers who ruled the planet, he went hunting.
Rachel looked up as the eerie howl of a big cat sent a shiver of excitement skating over her nerves. Forgetting the small fire she’d been coaxing into life, she searched the surrounding canopy, hoping for a glimpse of her cat. Had he followed them into the swamp? There was no doubt in her mind that, as apex predators, the big cats wouldn’t have to worry about things like giant, beetle-filled snakes. Between her work and university, she’d seen a lot of different life-forms, including a lot of symbiotic relationships, but the image of those beetles eating their way out of the snake like a glistening black wave to swarm over its carcass still made her shudder. Not because she cared about the snake, but because it was all too easy to imagine the tiny black things swarming over her instead.
Shifter Planet: The Return Page 15