He jumped to his feet and she grabbed his arm, pulling him around the tree. His shoulder wound made it hard to climb, but she pushed at his backside, until he managed the first low branch. From there, it was easy to climb higher. She followed along right behind, moving more surely and quickly than he could. They moved steadily higher in the branches.
The wounded creature below was breathing raggedly, in great gasps. There was another snarl, followed by a roaring scream. Another of the beasts had arrived. It clawed at the tree, and Logan realized that it was coming up. It climbed to the first limb, but then seemed to have difficulty and dropped out of the tree, snarling.
The two sat in the high branches, shaking as the adrenaline worked its way out of their systems. The creature below paced around the tree, snarling, and sometimes rearing against the trunk with a scratching noise from its claws. It didn't try to climb again, though.
Logan had lost all sense of time in the darkness. After what may have been a few minutes or an hour or so, it grew quiet.
Serensaa had somehow managed to bring their pants up with her. How she had the presence of mind to do so amazed Logan. He gladly worked his damp pants over his legs, then pulled them up while balancing on the branch. The fabric made sitting more comfortable.
He was sitting on a level branch, his legs dropping into space, while he leaned forward to rest his right shoulder against another parallel branch. The whole left side of his upper chest burned and dripped blood. That was painful enough, but the tree bark grinding into his posterior was almost unbearable. He tried shifting to get more comfortable, but the bark ground at his skin, no matter how he moved.
Serensaa had been quiet, apparently waiting for the animal below to leave. Now she worked her way around to be close to him. Her hand touched his face, felt it, and then slid down his neck and onto his chest. There was a brief flash of more intense pain as she found the wound. Her fingers carefully explored the gashes.
Logan had been clawed, and he knew he'd been lucky. The spear he'd shoved forward had struck the animal, somehow blunting its charge. It had barely missed his face with one slash, striking his shoulder with the second. From the pain and the dripping blood, it was bad. He'd been trying to forget it, but her probing was impossible to ignore.
Serensaa's fingers slid along the wound from his upper breast to the tip of his shoulder. It was difficult for him to visualize how bad it might be, but the pain wouldn't allow him to relax.
She didn't say anything at first. After a moment, he could hear her picking at the branches surrounding them. She moved away, plucking at something that made a soft ripping sound. Then she was back sitting next to him again.
He could feel her movements as she worked at something in her hands. She quit, then reached for him again. Her fingers searched for the wound, and pressed something soft and fibrous against it. Whatever it was, it had the effect of stopping the dripping blood. Some drips still ran down his chest, but the fibers had blocked the wound enough that it seemed likely to clot.
Logan felt a little light-headed. He was worried that he'd lost too much blood, and he was also terrified that he'd get some kind of infection. He'd avoided that with his other wounds, but this one could be different. Without any antibiotics, he might easily die here in this primitive wilderness. He shifted uncomfortably until he found that resting the right side of his bare chest against the supporting limb eased the pain.
It was a long night. They didn't dare climb down. It was impossible to see anything on the dark ground, so they couldn't tell if the second beast might still be hanging around.
Eventually the clouds thinned, then parted into fluffy cotton balls that floated by quickly overhead. Stars shined through the holes momentarily as the clouds blew past. The moon wasn't showing, but it seemed much lighter now that the overcast was gone.
Logan gradually became aware that birds were chirping somewhere in the trees. He lifted his head from where he'd had it cushioned on his right arm. His eyes were bleary and he felt like warmed-over dog food. Something moved nearby, and he turned his head to face Serensaa. It was light enough to see her face and she looked concerned. Her concern made him feel worse.
He flexed his left arm, experimenting with the pain in his upper chest. It was still bad. Even so, he felt he could climb down with no problems, but he was slow. By the time he'd managed to work his way to the ground, it was full-on daylight.
Serensaa had wadded a mass of dry Spanish moss against his wound and it was stiff with clotted blood. There was no question in his mind about the fact that the wound was full of bacteria. There had probably been a lot of filth on the beast's claws, and the Spanish moss wasn't likely to be much better.
He dropped the last few feet out of the tree, lost his balance, and fell, landing on his back. Serensaa helped him to his feet, and then led him around the trunk.
There, lying on its side, was a large hyena-like cat-creature. It had saber teeth and its hind legs were shorter than the front ones. He glanced at the claws. They seemed to be duller than what a cat would have; maybe more like those of a dog. That was why the other one hadn't been able to climb the tree easily.
The protruding canine teeth were about two inches in length. Impressive, but not as long as those of the saber tooth tigers he'd seen previously. The cat's body wasn't as large either. Logan had never seen anything like it. He wasn't enough of a paleontologist to even hazard a guess as to what it was.
Serensaa's eyes were shining. She showed him the spear he'd thrust. The shaft was broken, but the fore-shaft, with its attached point was embedded deeply in the animal's chest. That lucky placement had saved Logan from a worse mauling.
He'd done a good job with his knife during the struggle. There were several large gashes in the animal's chest, some of them actually cutting through the ribs. He could see pinkish lung tissue through one of the wounds. Another knife wound had opened the creature's stomach, and its intestines had spilled out in a coiling pile. The smell of blood and feces was thick.
They gathered the rest of their clothes, which were scattered around the tree trunk, and pulled them on. Logan had some difficulty with his shirt and she helped him, settling it across his back. The matted Spanish moss made a lumpy, diagonal ridge across his upper left chest.
Serensaa hacked into the cat-thing, using his knife. She removed both of the animal's back-straps. Logan understood. It was food.
She sliced into the abdomen, cutting through the skin and exposing the liver. Then she sliced off several thin slices, and handed one to him.
Logan paused, unsure about the raw organ meat. She indicated he should eat. When he paused a little more, she cut off a bit and ate it herself. He grimaced, but then chewed at the bloody liver, making another face at the heavy taste.
Something in the meat seemed to fill a need that his body had. It knew better than he did that the liver would help him heal. He paused, looked at the meat as he readjusted his thinking, than ate several large chunks. Perhaps it would help him replace the blood he'd lost, he was unsure about that, but it was good. He quit eating when his stomach felt full.
Serensaa showed no inclination to stay around any longer. Logan understood the odor would probably draw scavengers. He didn't think he was up for another fight at the moment, and he was glad when she started off.
They headed westward, away from the carcass. Logan wasn't too fast. His shoulder hurt, and his lower back still hadn't recovered from being perched in the tree all night. His back had been strained in the fight also, and that made it difficult to walk easily.
He limped along behind her. She was obviously looking for something, but he didn't know what. She investigated patches of weeds as they walked. Finding what she was looking for, she exclaimed, then picked a bundle of what looked like weeds to Logan. She motioned to him that they'd stop there.
Logan was happy to lie back on the pine litter, and rest. He found a comfortable position, and went to sleep while Serensaa busied herself with the plants sh
e'd picked. He woke for a moment to see her off through the trees gathering something else.
After an hour or so, she waked him. He hadn't pulled his tee shirt off to check his chest, and then didn't want to pull it back over the wound without her assistance. She made him get up and led him through the trees to a small stream. It was flowing quickly and looked like it might be a branch of the stream that they'd been beside before the storm had struck. It was so cold that it almost certainly was spring-fed.
She gathered more dry Spanish moss, soaked it, and then went to work on his wound. He flinched as she picked the clotted mess off. She washed the wound gently with the clean moss. Then repeated the operation, stopping at times to pick some dirt and debris out of the gashes. She finally seemed satisfied that it was clean.
It was bleeding slightly again, but Logan felt better about the possibility of infection. At least she'd gotten most of the dirt out. What came next puzzled him.
She took the weeds she'd gathered and chewed them into a mashed up, pasty wad, after which she rinsed her mouth repeatedly at the stream. Then she took the paste and smeared it into his wound, covering the gashes from one end to the other. She carefully worked it into the cuts, making sure no area was left untreated.
Logan had feared it would be painful, and it was at first. He found that something in the herbs had a numbing effect that gradually set in. That was probably why she'd rinsed her mouth so often. Whatever it was, the wound didn't hurt the way it had. He sighed in relief and smiled at his beautiful primitive nurse.
She responded by taking his head in her hands, and pulling him forward for a long kiss. As hurt as he was, he could feel his body respond. When he tried to kiss her again, she shoved him in the center of his chest, pushing him down with a laugh while shaking her head in her 'no' gesture.
She seemed pleased with him in some way. Logan thought about that while she built a quick fire, then roasted some of the cat meat. Eventually he concluded that she was proud of him for killing their attacker.
It really didn't seem like something of which to be proud. Instead, he had a feeling that he had been stupid, perhaps fatally so. If his wound rotted, it was a good bet he wouldn't survive. Cats had notoriously dirty claws.
After they ate, she kept the fire going, building it up as a defense so they could sleep by its side. Logan lay back and tried to fall asleep, hoping to recover from the long night.
Chapter 15: THE SAND HILLS
The memory of the attack worked to prevent Logan from sleeping. He replayed his actions over and over in his mind. There might have been something he could have done that would have prevented the cat's slashing attack from striking him, but he couldn't quite figure out what it could have been, unless he'd been able to hurl the spear rather than just pointing it in the right direction. He tossed around fitfully, finally settling his mind by watching Serensaa as she sat tending the fire.
He eventually started to drop off to sleep. An owl called, deep in the woods. He rearranged himself, took a deep breath. The pleasant odor of burning pine lingered in his nose. His last waking memory was of her profile highlighted by the yellow and red flames, contrasting with the dim outline of the foliage against the dark sky.
He awoke to a soft pressing on his lips. His eyes opened to the site of Serensaa's face hovering over his with her lips barely touching his. Her long hair brushed against his cheeks and neck. He reached to hold her, and her eyes closed as the kiss deepened. His breath shortened. She slowly pulled back, and smiled at him. Then she sat up, pressing on his chest as he started to rise.
He relaxed and lay still as she cleaned his wound and repacked it with the herb poultice, taking the same care as before.
He felt better about the wound after that. The gashes had not shown any signs of rotting. There was some redness around the edges, but no heat. He touched the surrounding skin, wondering if he might be lucky enough to avoid infection.
Serensaa set a slower pace during the morning. Logan had no difficulty keeping up. His chest hurt and was stiff, but it wasn't too painful. The poultice she'd applied had some property that seemed to calm the aggravated nerves.
Following up on his idea of throwing the spear, he had searched through her pack, and finding one of the fore-shafts with a damaged point, he'd appropriated it. As they walked, he practiced with the spear thrower. He didn't care if he broke the flint tip. It was already flattened on the end.
He'd pick a clump of grass or a weed, a suitable distance ahead, and then chuck the spear at it with his right arm, retrieving it as they passed. The spear thrower allowed him to throw the light shaft farther than he could have with just his arm alone.
Serensaa was amused at first, but then grew interested and began to practice, alternating turns with him. He was surprised that she was no more accurate than he was. Perhaps she hadn't had an opportunity to use the atl-atl. She certainly seemed capable enough using a hand-held spear and she was obviously an expert at using the points to cut up meat.
He tried to query her about her apparent lack of experience, but to no avail. She'd just smile and shake her head, more or less randomly to his questions. Finally, she turned to him and said several sentences filled with a sequence of rapid sounds that he could barely distinguish as separate words.
It was her gestures as she spoke that hinted at what she was saying. He understood her meaning partly. In her tribe, women were not allowed to use spear throwers. That tool was reserved exclusively for hunters. She knew how they were used, but had never experimented with one.
Logan enjoyed throwing the spears. He used their spear practice to work on their language problem, by saying, “Good” when either one of them hit their target and “not good” or “missed” when they didn't. She quickly got the idea behind the words, so he started saying, “Throw the spear,” prior to throwing. That was a little puzzling to her at first, but once he helped her understand the word, “spear”, she mastered that also.
After that, he added the words “grass,” “weeds,” and “tree.” “Hill” was another easy one. “Up” and “down” followed from that.
By the time the sun was passing the zenith, Logan was tired, but happy. The morning's journey had passed more quickly as they occupied themselves with language and spear practice.
They had reached an area of low, rounded sand hills interspersed with forested areas. Cresting a higher hill about midday, they saw a large lake extending to the south. It looked miles across. Logan believed that it was Lake Apopka. It's general shape and size seemed correct. If that were so, they were nearing the middle of the Florida peninsula.
The afternoon wasn't nearly as easy as the morning. It was exhausting. They slogged up and down over the hills. None of the slopes were very steep, but the sandy soil and long, tough grasses interspersed with woody weeds made walking difficult. Some of the weeds had small orange flowers on them.
Logan didn't care for those. If they were bruised, they emitted an unpleasant scent that reminded him of sweaty socks. He circled around them whenever he had a chance.
It had taken several hours to pass the large lake. It was behind them, to the east. They'd veered slightly southwest and were now climbing the highest hill he'd seen so far.
He tentatively assigned the name “Sugarloaf Mountain” to it. That might not be what it was, but since he remembered that was one of the highest points in the middle of the state, and since it dominated the western side of the lake, he figured no one would argue with him over the name.
They gradually worked their way up the eastern slope of the steep hill, passing through some copses of trees, mostly scrub oaks. The yellow flies were thick in these. The pests had a stealth mode allowing them to fly up silently and land on an exposed part of his anatomy. They'd quickly bite causing a sharp stabbing pain. He mimicked Serensaa, and pulled a clump of long grass that he swished ineffectually at the insects.
Once they exited the trees, the flies dropped off their trail, possibly discouraged by the stronger win
d in the open.
They crested the hill, walked several hundred yards to the north, and looked down into a long valley. There was a herd of tan colored animals strung out below. They were grazing while gradually making their way towards the southwest.
As the two humans watched, a pack of wolves charged down from one of the opposite hills, panicking the animals into a brief stampede. The wolves rapidly pulled down a slower animal. The herd ran on a few hundred yards then slowed to their normal pace, the ambush already forgotten.
Logan wasn't sure what they were, but they looked somewhat like larger llamas. He decided they must be new world camels. They didn't seem particularly bothered about the wolves. Attacks must be a commonplace event. Once the predators had their victim, the rest knew they were out of danger for the moment.
Serensaa drew his attention to a stand of trees to the west. If they hurried, they could reach the trees, make their way through, and end up close to the herd's path, giving them a chance to ambush one of the animals.
Paradox: On the Sharp Edge of the Blade Page 16