by Amy Star
He gripped harder, the full flex of his hand covering her breasts as he squeezed it again, and her nipple hardened. Each time he brushed over it with the rough edge of his palm, she felt the muscles in her stomach and shoulders flinch against her will.
“Can we do this?” she asked in a hoarse breath.
“It’s what we were trained to do,” he said while still holding her tight. “Is this your first time?”
The question struck her like a hammer. Even though she was a virgin, she hadn’t really thought about Connor – in all likelihood he had sexual experiences in the past. She felt small against him, suddenly. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll be gentle,” he whispered in her ear.
Her hand loosened on his penis and he gently gripped her hipbone and turned her over, then ran his hand along the outside of her leg and pulled it slowly up, causing her stomach to jut out and her buttocks to press harder against his groin. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she felt the tip of his penis push against her labia, but she covered her mouth again.
Connor was true to his word, and did his best to be gentle as he slid his member up and over her labia, prodding closer and closer until he was testing the boundaries of her vagina. Sarah reached down once between her legs, found herself wet with the anticipation, and gently guided him in.
“Oh, god,” she breathed in a gasp, as Connor pushed into her, further and further until she was afraid she’d burst. “Oh my god, that feels good,” she whispered back.
Connor pulled her in close with one hand and used his other to pull her leg further over him so that her ass was completely plastered against his crotch, and the small V of hair around her pubis caught the last embers of the fire’s light.
“Harder,” she moaned, gyrating her hips.
She wanted him inside her, and reached behind so she could touch his head. He kissed her palm and pumped harder, his hips grinding and pounding against the soft flesh of her buttocks, and she could feel herself spinning toward an orgasm.
As his movements quickened he positioned himself above her, forcing her onto her stomach as he sat on top of her and plunged again and again into the warm crevice between her legs. The sound of their lovemaking became desperate, like an animal being hunted, and she could feel her pussy swimming in its own excretion, running down the inside of her tan loins.
“I’m… I’m going to come, Connor! Hold me, hold me while I come,” she gasped, and both of them reached orgasm at the same time.
Her whole body was a quivering mess of muscles and screams, and she bucked against him uselessly as he expelled himself. It was as if they had both released their inner Bear but managed to stay in Form. Connor rested his whole weight on her naked backside, trying to catch his breath – she could still feel him subconsciously thrusting into her with the last of his effort, and she shivered, overtaken by the adrenaline and passion.
Finally, they both collapsed and slid off each other, and Connor held her in the deepening night. Before he closed his eyes, he bent down and kissed her, a long passionate kiss that explored her tongue, her lips, and every part of her that would have him. And when he finally passed off to sleep, she stayed awake for long hours, breathing in the scent of him under the stars.
*
When Sarah awoke, Connor was already gone, and she felt a pang of panic overtake her as she scrambled up and looked around. She shivered again, held her shoulders, and went back to the lean-to where she could drape the emergency blanket over her.
There was still one squirrel left over from the night before and she hungrily took it and gnawed on it while the events of the previous night replayed in her head. It all seemed like a dream, something that had happened without her really being a part of it, even though she knew that in all earnestness she had initiated the romance between her and Connor. But it was still surreal.
She suddenly grew worried about his absence. Where had he gone? The fears from the previous day came swimming back – had Connor abandoned her? The thought bubbled up and began to make her antsy as she pondered what she would do now. No, he hasn’t abandoned me, she kept repeating to herself.
“Morning,” she heard, and jumped when she saw him coming back through the grasses. He had her knapsack in one hand and her clothes in the other, and set them on the log. “I thought I’d get up early and find your stuff. You’re going to need it if we want to make any distance today.”
She thanked him and stood up, letting the blanket fall away. The wounds on her stomach were well on their way to being healed, but he still turned away at her nakedness.
“Probably past that now,” she said curtly.
He turned back slowly, trying to keep his eyes from her brown swaying breasts. “Heh, I guess you’re right. How do you feel today?”
“Strange,” she said, “and wonderful. And scared.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said and sat down beside her. “What do you think we should do?”
Traditionally, when two lovers had found each other, the ceremony was more or less officially over. But it was still up to both of them to find their way back to the chalet. What will Caroline’s face look like when we both enter, hand in hand? The thought of it made Sarah smile – she’d never seen her cousin flummoxed at any point in her life. Somehow, she was always in control, even when she wasn’t. It was this demeanor that had led the Greyback Tribe through its most uncertain times.
“Caroline probably suspects you are dead. Your father thinks we’re coupled. Maybe it’s best to let them believe what they believe until we know more,” she said.
“Maybe,” he replied grimly, and put on his shirt, “but if Caroline wants me dead, I’m sure she has a contingency plan as well.”
“You think there’s others looking for you?”
“The only thing my death would accomplish is starting the Great Wars over again. No one wants that. At least, no one rational, wants that. Even Caroline must have another reason.”
They both fell into silence, and Connor picked up his pack eventually and offered her his hand. She still had her bearings from being dropped off by the helicopter, so she knew more or less in which direction to travel. Connor, as well, had been trained in outdoor survival and seemed to zero in on where they needed to go. There were still twenty kilometers of bush between them and the chalet’s main grounds though, and it wouldn’t be easy-going.
They switched off on taking point, with Connor leading at places, and then falling back to let Sarah lead. It was a common strategy when moving through the wilderness, and both of them found the other to be a perfect traveling companion – when they grew tired, it took but a glance for them to agree on a resting spot. When they encountered an obstacle like dense bush or a river stream, there was always an unspoken solution that arrived and both seemed equally matched in temperament.
It was something Sarah had feared – that her mate might end up being someone who was competitive or chauvinistic. It wasn’t an uncommon trait among the Tribes. But Connor was neither, and if someone had accused him of arrogance, she could understand it as being simply an exhaustion with the rules and formalities of noble life.
As they neared another opening where the ground became marshy, Sarah sat down with an exhaustive gasp and Connor did likewise. Far off in the distance they could make out the topmost pillar of the chalet. It was a b-line to the grounds through wet and treacherous grasslands, and she took the time to open her knapsack and take a deep swig.
“Almost there,” he said, taking the canteen from her.
“I’m still nervous,” she said, “this was too easy.”
“Doesn’t feel easy. This is rough terrain.”
“I mean, I think you’re right about Caroline – if she wanted me to kill you, she’s not the type to put all her trust in one plan of attack. I feel like we’re missing something.”
As if to emphasize her point, she reached into her pack and withdrew the black gun. Connor winced at the sight of it and accepted it, turned it over in his hand
s, and gave it back. “She really must hate me,” he said, and both of them couldn’t help but smirk.
“I say we confront your father about it,” she said, “maybe he can help make sense of this.”
“I agree,” he said, “whatever happens, at least let’s decide we’ll be together for it.”
Sarah’s cheeks became rosy and she almost turned away, but Connor touched her hands and gave her a smile, the same generous one that Patrick had given her only the day before. Damn, it feels like a lifetime has passed since then, she thought to herself.
As they both stood up and took their first step onto the grass-mat leading out across the plains, a loud crack, like a lightning bolt, issued from the far side. There was a momentary lull as they both looked at each other, and suddenly Connor spiraled to the ground, hard. It didn’t take Sarah more than a second to register the sound as a gun shot and flattened herself as another crack filled the air, and a bit of the sod next to her head erupted.
“Connor!” she screamed, keeping low to the ground. She could barely make out anything on the far side. Whoever was taking the shot was using a high-powered rifle, and had some experience with long-distance targets. “Connor!” she shouted again.
“I’m here, damn,” he said, turning over and holding his left shoulder. Blood was seeping between his fingers and his face was contorted in pain. “It’s just a flesh wound, nothing serious. I think… it went straight through.”
“They’re still shooting at us,” she said, suddenly worried by the amount of blood that was leaking through his T-shirt.
Another shot off in the distance. This time Sarah dared to look up and scanned the far bank as best she could. The trees were thick and dark. Suddenly to the right she saw the briefest glint of something reflective like glass and dove down again as another bullet exploded beside her knee.
“Stay down, you idiot,” Connor grunted, doing his best to bind the wound with a torn end of his shirt. “We have to get out of here. Did you get their bearing?”
“Got it. We’ll wait for the next shot, head back the way we came, you go first,” she said, taking comma
“Don’t get yourself killed,” he warned.
Sarah crawled on her belly a few meters more to the right, and looked once over at Connor who was on his stomach as well, but looked ready to spring into action. He nodded, and she jumped up, running perpendicular to the glint of glass she had seen earlier. Connor did likewise, scrambling low into the forest behind them. Another shot, and another, and Sarah couldn’t tell if they were close to her or not, but she could smell the ozone of the projectiles whistling past.
He’s safe, she thought with a relieved breath when she saw Connor had made it to the tree line, and followed after him, ducking down behind a stump.
“That was too close,” Connor said, still holding his shoulder.
“Let me see that.”
“Its fine, I’m-”
“Let me see,” she insisted, sitting down beside him and checking the wound. He was right, the bullet had entered and existed cleanly, without hitting any major arteries. She re-fixed the bandage and took another one from his med-kit. “It’s stopped bleeding, for now. But the more we run, the harder it will be to stop it. And I don’t think you’ll be able to use it for a little while.”
“All the Bears in the Clawgrove Tribe have fast healing,” he said with confidence, “I’ll be fine. But we shouldn’t stop here. We need to keep going.”
She nodded and helped him up. Her mind was a flurry of adrenaline – but through the fog of excitement, another emotion started to emerge. Anger. It was an unfocused emotion, but it was real and she knew where it had come from. There was only one other person she knew of who could possibly have managed to pick them off from that distance with a rifle.
The only person she had ever truly feared and admired, who had taught her everything she knew about life outside the walls of the Estate.
Caroline.
*
After about an hour of moving through the brush in a pattern that would confuse any followers, they finally sat down again and Sarah checked Connor’s bullet wound. It looked ugly and painful, wrinkled at the sides as if the bullet had cauterized the flesh on the way through. Probably why it didn’t bleed more, she thought to herself. But it would have been excruciating.
She looked to Connor’s face for any evidence of it, but there was only a tired and limp expression of defeat. He saw her giving him a concerned look and tried to flash a smile back that would alleviate her concern.
“Well and truly screwed, now,” he murmured, “but your hands are like soft milk.”
“Now you’re just trying to flatter me,” she said, “I know I suck at this. I did lots of field training things like this, but never in person.” There was a tinge of sadness in her voice.
“You’re doing fine,” he said, brushing a shaggy lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Well, we can’t go back now. It looks like whoever’s out there doesn’t want us to return. At least, alive.”
“We can stay out here,” he said. “We have all the tools we need. Hell, we could just choose a direction and go. They’d never find us.”
The idea struck her as foolhardy and reckless, and it was something she hadn’t expected from Connor – but these were extenuating circumstances. The logical strategies of survival didn’t apply here. She had to admit that part of her liked the idea of vanishing with this young man, slipping out of the realms of Greyback and Clawgrove. A life all their own, lived in peace, without any expectations. Without violence or conspiracy.
But it was a pipe-dream and deep down she knew that. Whoever had orchestrated this had obviously invested a lot into it. They would have had to – the fate of both Tribes hung in the balance, after all.
“Let’s keep going,” she murmured, and helped him up from the ground.
They walked for another half-hour, and the forest grew darker, more ominous. All the normal sounds of the forest began to dissipate, as if the trees themselves had sucked up all life. That imminent feeling of being watched returned and she did her best to support Connor, who was quickly losing his compunction to stand. The bullet probably went deeper than he’s letting me believe, she realized. He’d lost a lot of blood, and even with his advanced healing abilities, he was still mortal.
“We’ll rest up ahead,” she whispered to him, but she wasn’t sure he heard. His grip around her waist tightened briefly in response.
As they passed under the shadows of old growth cedars, the air became damp and felt like cold fingers groping at them. Suddenly, Sarah stopped. Her instincts flared up, and the hairs on her arms started to rise like the ears of prey, scanning for peril. She looked left and right, but there was nothing. Just the forest. Against her, Connor let out a sigh and tried to keep his balance.
“What’s… the matter?”
“Something,” she said, and veered right, “something I’ve felt before.”
The two of them bushwhacked through a tangle of low cedar trees, their long branches fenced across the air and ground like a net, and Sarah held up her arm as she pushed through into a clearing. What she saw took her breath away, and even Connor’s eyes opened wide.
In front of them, a massive cedar tree stretched into the cobalt blue throat of sky. Its pale body was almost white in the contrast of shadows, and it would have taken at least five of them with arms spread to equal its circumference. It was almost dizzying, and both Sarah and Connor were forced to take a step back. It was a grandfather cedar, probably centuries old, with long arching branches that seemed to point straight up. It looked like a fossil.
“Is it dead?” Connor gasped.
“No, not entirely,” she replied, indicating the small green tufts toward the top, “but that’s not what concerns me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sarah helped Connor to sit down and unslung her backpack. It took her several seconds of rooting through her belongings before she pulled out
the brown moleskin journal and flipped through the pages. She held the spine open with her thumb and showed it to Connor, who looked at the journal, then at the tree, then back at the journal.
“You’ve been here before?” he asked.
“No,” Sarah said. Her face was void of emotion. She could only stare calmly at the journal in her hands and cradled it like an embryo, as if it might hold the memory of this place. “I don’t understand.”
Connor looked again at the page of the journal. It was the picture of a cedar tree, stark and cragged. Even though the picture and the actual tree before them had some dissimilarities, it was clearly meant to represent the same thing.
“I drew this from a dream,” she explained, sitting down, “I was in front of this tree. And I don’t remember anything else, except I was afraid.”
“What were you afraid of, Sarah?” Connor asked suddenly.
She shrugged. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the tree she had dreamed about was here now, on the ancestral lands. She stood up again and approached it, her boots cracking on twigs. As she neared the base of its trunk, she could almost make out the whispering of the branches, as if they were trying to communicate in an ancient language, inaccessible to her. Just my imagination, she thought.
As she reached out and touched the white wood, she felt something like an electrical pulse ripple through her body, and quickly pulled back.
“Are you okay?” Connor gasped, trying to stand.
“Stop moving, you’re going to make it bleed again,” she chided, holding her hand. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I just… I dunno, it felt weird. I’m going to try again.”
This time she reached out slower and as her fingers alighted on the pale trunk, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. The wood was surprisingly warm, almost too warm. It was like touching the skin of an animal, and she pulled back again. Just my imagination, she repeated. It had felt like it was breathing.