The Lion and the Mouse

by Emmy Chandler

  “Yes." I squeeze her hand. “All of that is the problem. This place is the problem. But none of that is your fault."

  “I'm not going to work for them." She sniffles and swipes her nose with the back of one hand. "I'm not going to start the job. I'm not going to be responsible for bringing more tourists here." Another sniffle, and she looks up with me with red eyes. “I can't just go back to the way things were. I can't just pretend I never met you, that I never heard any of this. That I never stayed here, and learned to chop strange vegetables for stew, and wear clothing handmade from ezaki leather, and bathe in the stream with a handful of moss. I can't just leave and pretend this never happened."

  My heart aches, and it's the best pain I've ever felt. So what if she can't tan a hide or tell poisonous plants from edible ones? So what if her footsteps are loud enough to scare away an entire herd of ezaki? So what if she takes up more than her half of the bed, and has no defensive abilities whatsoever, and squeals at the sight of any bug larger than her palm? She may not be perfect, but she is perfect for me.

  Is it possible she feels the same way?

  “Syrie, I have to ask you something.”

  She sniffles again, swiping fat teardrops from both cheeks. "The way this confessional is going, I almost hate to press my luck. Please don't ask me anything you don't want the answer to."

  Oh, I want the answer.

  “Why did you hide?”

  She frowns, clearly confused by my change of subject. "Hide?"

  “When that surface glider came and my den transitioned. When those men got out of their vehicle, you could have stood up and waved your arms to get their attention. You could have been rescued. Instead, you hid and asked me to get rid of them."

  “I—” Her from deepens. “I don't know. I guess because I was naked? Because I didn't want to be found like that?" Yet she sounds far from sure.

  “But that first time in the stream, when you saw the shuttle overhead, you ran for it, shouting and waving your arms, without a single thought for the fact that you were nude and still dripping water. You cried when the shuttle didn't see you. When you realized you were stuck here. With me. But today…" I let her draw her own conclusion, and I hope she shares it with me.

  Syrie blinks, and her focus drops to the hands she's twisting in her lap again. “I—” She looks up again, and meets my gaze. "I guess I just wasn't ready to leave."

  14

  Syrie

  I wake up alone in the bed. The daylight leaking around the wide cracks in both windows is weak and pale, which means it’s still early. I haven't woken up alone in a while, because Lohr no longer goes to the stream to bathe without me in the morning. I think that has more to do with the fact that he no longer needs to "take himself in hand" than with his bathing ritual.

  But today…

  I throw back the heavy fur covering me, and the cold air immediately raises gooseflesh on my skin. The coals in the fire pit have been banked, so I get up and stir them with a stick stripped of bark that Lohr keeps for that purpose. Soon the fire is blazing.

  I grab a strip of ezaki jerky hanging over the pit and shove most of it into my mouth on my way outside to relieve myself. Lohr isn't out front working on his hides or repairing his guma net. I have no idea where he's gone, but I'm sure that whatever he's doing is important. After last night, I’m more aware than ever that I'm interrupting his life. Keeping him from the chores that keep him alive and from the trading that keeps him in relative comfort.

  And I know he would never leave me alone for long, which means he's probably already on his way back.

  As I head into the hut again, I hear a soft footstep and I turn, already smiling, expecting to see him sneaking up on me, a freshly caught, weird alien fish in one hand, and a huge smile on his cute lion-like face. But I don't recognize the Fetoji man staring back at me.

  He's around Lohr’s height, but his mane and his body fuzz are more dark blonde than truly golden, and he has bright green eyes. He’s carrying a spear just like Lohr’s.

  My pulse jumps, and I back away slowly. My heel lands on a rock large enough to bruise the sole of my foot even through the protective gel, and I flinch, but I keep going. The shadow of the hut falls over me, and I wonder if there's some way for me to barricade myself inside, since there are no locks on the door. “Who are you?"

  The man steps toward me, towering over me, but he says nothing.

  “Where’s Lohr?” I demand, still backing away from him, and again he says nothing. "I will scream for him if you come near me,” I threaten.

  He lunges forward, a light golden blur racing toward me, and I shriek as he pulls me against him, until his hand clamps over my mouth, the tips of his sheathed claws pressing into my skin. "If you scream, you will bring predators straight to us,” he growls softly.

  Lohr said something very similar right after I met him, as he threw me over his shoulder and carried me off. Which is why I'm not really surprised when this man lifts me and does the same thing.

  I grunt as his shoulder blade digs into my stomach, his arm clamped over the backs of both of my thighs. “Please," I say, trying to push myself upright with both of my palms against his back. "Please just put me down. Just leave me here.” But he doesn't say a word. “If Lohr gets back and I'm not here, he will chase us, and he will kill you."

  I have no idea whether or not that's true. I know Lohr is certainly capable, but I’ve never seen him hurt anything that didn't qualify as food.

  “Shush,” the man says, and I take that as a sign that he's willing to communicate, if I piss him off enough.

  “Where are you taking me?" I ask, but again he ignores me. “He said— Lohr said that I have nothing to fear from his people. He said you aren't savages, that you aren't violent, and I believe him." I also know that there's at least one bad apple in every bunch. I really hope I haven't found that bad apple. Or rather that he hasn't found me. “You don't have to do this."

  The man marches away from Lohr’s hut and toward the woods, unbothered by my squirming and kicking. "Where are we going?" I repeat. "If you don't start talking to me I'm going to scream."

  He doesn't seem to believe me, so I suck in a dramatic breath, and before I can start shrieking, he swings me off of his shoulder and sets me on the ground. "If you don't cease this ridiculous struggle, I will render you unconscious."

  I'm starting to think the men of Lohr’s species have a lot in common with each other.

  "Is that what you men do when you can't handle your women? ‘She's too much work, so let me just knock her out until I feel like dealing with her again?’”

  He scowls down at me. "You make entirely too much noise, female."

  "I'm about to make a lot more."

  "As I said, that would bring predators."

  "You are a predator."

  His scowl deepens, yet he makes no attempt to deny it. “Come with me quietly," he says at last. "And you will not be injured."

  "And then what? What happens when you get me where you want me? I'm not sure if you know this, but your species and mine aren't entirely anatomically compatible. If you try to mate with me, I will be injured." That's not completely accurate, of course. But if he truly doesn't want to hurt me, maybe that will give him pause.

  He heaves an exasperated huff. "I don't want to— That's not what— Why would any man try to mate with a woman who doesn't want him?”

  Holy shit. If a human man had hauled me off by force… But I guess rape really isn't a thing among the Fetoji. "Okay then, so what is this about?"

  "Just keep your mouth shut and try to be less conspicuous than the rest of your species." He grabs my arm and starts hauling me through the woods, and suddenly I understand that I'm going to have to deal with one predator or another. I’m going to have to make a choice.

  I do not pick this asshole.

  I dig my gel-coated heels into the dirt and jerk my arm from his grasp. When he spins around to grab me again, I open my mouth and scream at t
he top of my lungs.

  The man spits out a series of harsh words I can't understand—clearly expletives—and reaches for me again. Just as something shrieks from deep in the woods.

  I turn toward the sound, chills skating up my spine, as the man's hand closes over my arm in an iron grip. "Now see what you've done? He pulls me away from the sound, and this time I don't object. Footsteps pound toward us but they aren't thunderous or lumbering like an ezaki. They're much faster. Whatever is after us is going to catch us. In seconds.

  Soon I can hear its huffing, snorting breath even over my own. Over the rush my pulse in my ears and the snap of twigs beneath my feet. My kidnapper snarls, a sound fierce enough to remind me that I am caught between two fearsome beasts.

  My plan is not awesome, but it's the only one I have. So I twist out of his grip again and turn to see what's chasing us.

  It's a wolf. Only it isn't a wolf, though it looks vaguely like a huge dog. Or a small bear. It's easily twice the size of a wolf, a massive, barrel-chested beast with a tough leathery hide instead of fur. It has a sharply sloping, broad forehead and four small eyes, above a huge set of nostrils. Its ears are just holes in the sides of its head, and it has no tail. But its defining characteristic is a massive maw full of needlelike sharp teeth.

  Several rows.

  My Fetoji kidnapper snarls, facing off against the beast with his feet spread wide for balance and his knees bent. I back away as he raises his spear, and the monster turns to me, its attention captured by my motion.

  "Don't move," the man says through clenched teeth. "It will chase anything that moves."

  And…there goes my less-than-awesome plan to run away while he fights the monster.

  I watch as the man and the beast lunge at each other over and over, snarling, spittle flying. The man dodges swipes of the monster’s claws and pokes at it with a spear I would've called fearsome before I saw this creature. Now it just seems inadequate.

  He appears to be angling the monster away from me, slowly circling it to the left, waving his arms, shouting, and stabbing at it to keep its attention. Evidently whatever this man wants from me cannot be gained from my corpse.

  My pulse racing, I back slowly away from the fight, hoping not to draw the beast's attention, but I am afraid to turn and run.

  My kidnapper’s fight is valiant and his skill obvious, however he is outmatched by this beast, and if he loses this fight—if he dies—I will be alone out here with this monster.

  I flinch as the alien–wolf unleashes a terrifying snarl and pounces, propelling himself with his hind legs. He lands on the man, pinning him to the ground with one massive paw, and the man's spear thunks into the ground just feet from me, thrown from his grip. The monster’s muzzle is inches from the man's head, dripping drool onto his face, and as I start to go for the spear, another shriek—a war cry, really—echoes from the forest to my right.

  I turn toward the cry just as Lohr races into sight from the direction of his hut, his own spear raised, his free hand waving overhead in exaggerated arcing motions. He shouts at the beast in his native language, his words interspersed with snarls and growls, and I watch, astonished, as he draws the beast’s attention away from my kidnapper.

  Saving the life of the man who took me from him.

  “Lohr!” I whisper fiercely. “Let's just go!” I'm fine with letting the kidnapper die so we can get away.

  But Lohr only waves me back with one hand.

  The beast lunges for him, freeing my kidnapper, who leaps to his feet and reclaims his spear from the ground. I watch, astonished, as the two of them take turns drawing the monster’s attention, so that the other can stab it with a spear. Each stab goes deep, and twice, Lohr’s weapon gets stuck in the beast’s flesh, and he has to dart to the side to escape a swiping paw while my kidnapper jerks Lohr’s spear free, then tosses it back to him.

  It's obvious that they've danced this dance before.

  After a few minutes, the monster is exhausted from blood loss and exertion. His lunges become slow and clumsy, his swipes halfhearted. When they notice him weakening, Lohr and the kidnapper move in for the kill.

  They attack from both sides, in a collaborative effort, and I find myself in awe of their grace and coordination. And suddenly, there they stand, staring down at the corpse of a monster they slew together.

  I don't understand how we got here. How, minutes ago, one of these men kidnapped me from the other’s home—a clear act of aggression—yet they work well enough together to take down this monster without a word spoken between them.

  My kidnapper finally says something in his native language, and it sounds like a greeting. Like a friendly greeting. Lohr nods in reply and pulls his spear from the corpse, then he approaches my kidnapper as if they are old friends. He rubs the other man's shoulder with his own in what must be another friendly greeting.

  Then, with the formality of the way, he pulls his right arm back and punches my kidnapper in the face.

  The other man stumbles backward, rubbing his jaw, which is already starting to swell. He doesn't look surprised by either the greeting or the blow. He gestures to me, speaking rapidly in their native language, and Lohr holds up one hand to stop him. “First, introductions." Lohr turns to me, and his bearing straightens, as if for a formal pronouncement. “Syrie, this is my brother, Mahr.”

  15

  Lohr

  "Your brother?" Syrie frowns, staring at me from across the corpse of the yalneq Mahr and I have just killed. Her gaze flicks toward him, them back at me. "Why the hell did your brother just kidnap me?”

  “We will give him a chance to explain himself when we are back in my hut. This yalneq has recently birthed pups." I just gesture with my spear at her swollen, full teats.

  “That explains her aggression,” Mahr says.

  I nod. "It also means that her pups are somewhere nearby, likely with their sire."

  "That thing was a mother?” Syrie stares down at the felled beast. "I would say that's sad, if she hadn't just tried to kill us."

  "She was likely just defending her brood,” Mahr says. “And she wouldn't have even realized we were here if you had been quiet, as instructed."

  Syrie’s bright brown eyes narrow angrily on him. "There are a few rules I live my life by, without compromise. One of those is that when I'm kidnapped, I get to make as much noise as possible, in order to aid in my own rescue and fuck over my kidnapper. If you don't like those rules, you can kindly fuck off."

  Mahr turns to me, his usual scowl an exaggerated dip of both brows. “This woman's individual words make sense, yet her phrasing does not.”

  “It's because her favorite word is ‘fuck,’” I tell him. “That word, as it turns out, can function as every single part of speech in the human language.”

  “English language," she corrects me. "Humans have many languages. This one is called English. And yes, ‘fuck’ is a highly versatile word. Really, it represents the most glorious of all our linguistic accomplishments. But back to why the fuck this fucker had to fuck with us this morning. I'm still waiting on a fucking answer for that.”

  “I see," Mahr says. "It is quite versatile."

  Syrie snorts, and she turns to me. "You're not seriously inviting this asshole back home with us are you?"

  "He is my brother."

  "He is my assailant," she points out. And she is not wrong.

  "I meant you no harm," Mahr insists.

  "Right. Everyone who kidnaps me intends to just pat me on the head and then let me go. That's what kidnapping is all about, right?"

  "Is kidnapping a common threat where you're from?" Mahr asks, his brows drawn low.

  “More common than you might think. But whatever. Let's just take this shitshow of a family reunion back to the hut, where I expect some serious answers.”

  “Shitshow?” Mahr says with a questioning look at me.

  “Some of her colloquialisms have no exact translation," I explain. “I have found that the best approa
ch in that situation is just to nod.”

  “I see." He turns back to the yalneq and finally pulls his spear from its corpse. “Do you object to me claiming this kill?”

  “Of course I object," I snap at him. "We will share the slaughter and the resources just as we shared the kill. As always.”

  “Fine." Mahr moves to the front of the beast and lays his spear atop the corpse lengthwise, then he lifts our kill by both front paws. I lay my spear next to his and heft the rear of the carcass by its back paws, so that the animal is suspended between us.

  The walk back to my hut is slow with our cumbersome load, but it would make no more sense to give the entire thing to my brother than it would to leave it to rot on the forest floor.

  At home, we leave the kill outside, propped against front wall of my hut. The air isn't cold enough to freeze it, but at the current temperature, the rotting process will be delayed quite a bit. Not that there's much edible meat on a yalneq. Predators are typically very lean, but the fur, and the sinew, and the bones, and the claws—those will be quite useful.

  Syrie gapes at me when I gesture for my brother to proceed us into my home. “You're seriously going to invite him in? So, what, we're just going to break bread with my kidnapper, as if he didn't just commit a felony?"

  "Here, there are no felonies.” Though I understand the word. “We're going to discuss this in a civilized manner.” But I'm not sure what bread she's talking about, or why she might want to break it.

  “Actually," Mahr says in our native language. “I'd rather speak with you out here. In private."

  "What was that?" she demands. “What did he just say?"

  “He wants to speak to me in private," I explain. “Why don't you go inside and make yourself some tea from the pouch on the far left side of the top shelf?” It's the kind she seems to favor most.