by A. G. Wilde
She wanted to ask him what he was doing but, at the same time, she didn’t want to disturb this weird alien ritual. And she certainly didn’t want to be cordial with him.
Not when she hated him.
Because she did hate him, right?
Staring at him now, she remembered how he’d fought on the ship with the other members of the Restitution, how dangerous it had been to get her and the other women rescued, and how he’d trusted her to steer the Elysium when they were being chased.
He hadn’t seemed bad. Then why had he been such a dick on the Isclit ship? Controlling her mind when she didn’t even know he had been doing so?
Thinking of it again made her angry all over again.
Well, this journey would soon be over and then she could be rid of his presence.
He was a dick and she didn’t put up with dicks that she hated.
Handsome ethereal God or not.
Chapter Seven
The sandstorm was finally slowing down and Yce was standing by the cave mouth, looking outside.
Diana watched him with interest. After his glow fest, which seemed to go on for well over an hour, he’d finally opened his eyes and the glowing had stopped.
Funny he would choose to do something like that when she’d threatened him with a blade not long before. Did he not realize she’d been serious?
She wouldn’t hesitate to defend herself if she needed to.
“We should start moving now,” he said.
Right.
They needed to leave the cave and continue heading toward the outpost. That was their goal and that was what she was looking forward to.
Getting to the outpost meant freedom. At least, that’s what she hoped.
Nothing seemed to work the way it should in this part of the universe.
It was getting dark; she could already see that the twin suns were no longer high in the sky.
“Are you sure it’s safe to go trudging around at night?”
He turned to glance at her, adjusting the bag over his shoulder.
“It’s the safest way to go. The predators are many and at night they are awake,” he said. “Sleeping while they are awake is dangerous.”
Nodding, Diana stood and brushed the sand off her pants.
Fine, time to go.
Briefly checking the towels wrapped around her feet to ensure they were still secure, she approached Yce, who was still standing by the cave mouth.
Standing behind him, it was again impressed on her that he towered over her.
And his hair, so white and straight.
Touching hers, she sighed. Tangled and still full of sand.
She didn’t want to imagine what she looked like.
As they stepped out into the open, thin sand was still swirling in the air.
“Follow close by me,” he said, before moving off.
Diana frowned but did what he asked.
It was getting dark fast and with the darkness came cold.
This planet.
The days seemed to be scorching hot and as soon as the suns disappeared the land got cold.
Even now, so quickly after the suns’ departure, she could feel the sand was noticeably cooler than it had been when she’d first stepped into it.
That probably meant the planet didn’t have much of an atmosphere.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, with Diana trying to keep up.
Despite that she had wrapped her feet, the sand was managing to get through the fabric and it was rubbing against her soles, irritating the bruises that were already there.
It was coarser than sand on earth, which was probably why it was affecting her feet so.
But she wasn’t going to complain.
Her feet were aching but she could manage to walk. She had to.
There didn’t seem to be any structures in this vast desert in which to stop and rest and she wasn’t about to tell he-who-should-not-be-liked that she was in pain. Plus, they’d already rested in the cave during the sandstorm. Stopping again would only slow down their progress.
However, despite that she was walking considerably slower than before, she realized she was keeping up with him.
Diana eyed his back as he walked ahead.
Was he walking deliberately slowly so she could keep up?
She hoped not.
Pushing forward, she increased her pace.
They were walking in complete darkness but she didn’t need to ask why he hadn’t lit a torch—that’s if he had a torch to light.
Any light would be obvious in this wasteland. It would not only notify predators of their presence, but it would also let any Tasqal scouts spot them way too easily.
And that’s exactly what they didn’t want.
Right now, the darkness was their best camouflage.
But it was cold. So cold.
Diana gritted her teeth and pushed on. She’d just think of this as intensive training…like shock therapy or something.
Yce paused suddenly in front of her and she almost bumped into his hard back.
“Sand cats,” he said…or did he? She definitely heard his voice, but it didn’t seem like he had opened his mouth.
But before she could think about it, a loud snarl came from somewhere close.
* * *
The cats were surrounding them. From what he could sense, there were probably five of them.
They were dangerous, these cats. Big, fast, and hunting in packs, they were skilled hunters that managed to thrive in this desert wasteland.
He could manage on his own, but now, the soft body that had bumped into him from behind was the center of his worry.
She didn’t know about these animals.
She was a fighter, he knew. Or rather, she had a terrible temper.
The fact that she’d pointed a blade at him and threatened him had been hilarious, but he hadn’t dared to laugh.
Humans, he realized, were unpredictable.
He wasn’t sure about her skills in defending herself though, and that made this tricky.
On his own, he could take them out easily. But with someone else in the picture, now he had something else to worry about.
He didn’t like connecting with animals, but maybe he’d have to tame them using his mind this time. Animals’ minds were different from more intelligent species. It sort of mangled his brains to enter theirs. It was uncomfortable and he didn’t like it but if he had to, he would.
“Where are they?” Her voice reached his ear and mildly surprised him. There was no terror there. Wasn’t she afraid?
“They are approaching, stalking,” he replied.
“I can’t see them,” she said, shuffling in her sack and he realized she was taking out the small blade.
That blade would do nothing against these cats. Not that she’d have to do anything. He would take care of them himself.
“How many?” she asked.
“Five,” he replied, a slight frown forming on his forehead. She wasn’t thinking of fighting them with that small weapon, was she?
Was she insane?
“Tell me what to do,” she said.
He’d learned her sarcasm and that wasn’t sarcasm.
“You do nothing,” he said, turning to face her as another snarl came from somewhere close by. “I will handle it.”
“Right.” She wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she was squinting at the darkness, obviously trying to make out the predators.
This human...this female...this woman...
He could feel frustration starting to build within him.
He was just about to argue with her when he heard…no, it was as if he felt the air move as the first cat pounced.
Sliding his blade from his sack in one movement, he slashed through the air, slicing the cat right up the mid-section.
The large animal fell to the ground beside them and he heard the human gasp.
“Fuck! This thing is huge!” She stared down at it for a second before her wild ey
es returned to the darkness.
Still, he sensed no terror.
He was right. Maybe she was insane.
Taking down one of the cats didn’t deter the other four, however, as all four charged at them at once.
“Get down!” he shouted as he got ready for his second attack.
But it was hard to concentrate on protecting the human when she obviously wasn’t listening!
When he said get down, she’d gotten down alright, but not in the way he’d expected.
She was in some weird kind of crouch that looked much like a fighting position.
But he didn’t have time to berate her. A cat was coming directly at him.
Charging at the animal, his blade caught between the animal’s teeth as it grabbed the metal and snarled at him. Shaking its head hard, it tried to dislodge the blade from his hands. But he was stronger.
Raising a leg, he kicked the beast in its belly, pulling on his blade at the same time. The blade dislodged and he drove it forward, deep into the beast’s mouth.
Instant death.
But a glance behind him almost made his blood go cold.
The human was in the sand being torn apart by a sand cat.
Fear clenched him as he rushed forward, slicing another cat in the process and taking it down.
But as he approached the human, he realized he was wrong.
She wasn’t being torn apart.
Instead, she had her body wrapped around the animal, the huge head of the sand cat held in what looked like a chokehold and both were snarling…the woman and the cat.
And it hit him immediately that she looked exactly like a cat…a hjek-haired, feral, snarling cat.
The sand cat was growling and trying to release itself, but she’d managed to get a good hold on it and she was snarling right back and calling the thing names in her language that he could not understand.
This woman was...
As the last cat came charging toward him and jumped on his back, Yce gripped the thing by the shoulders and did a somersault. The movement brought them both down in the sand, and in the animal’s confusion, he buried his blade deep into its chest.
Raising his head, he brought his worried gaze back to the human. She was still struggling in the sand with the animal. Still cursing. Still snarling. Still angry.
Still…wild.
He knew he was staring but what he was seeing was unbelievable.
She still had the animal in a chokehold, its paws in the air, the sharp claws unable to reach her.
He realized she’d buried the small blade into the animal’s neck but the blade was far too small to do fatal damage.
Walking over to her, he paused to look down at her, his eyes reflecting exactly what he felt.
Wonder.
This woman was...wrestling? She was wrestling with the sand cat?
If it was other circumstances, he’d have taken the time to watch the spectacle in front of him, amazed by the occurrence.
He was just about to help out when the human spoke.
“A little help here, Witcher,” she spoke through gritted teeth, grunting with exertion.
“Ah,” he said, unable to resist as a soft smile graced his lips. “I was just going to stand here and watch.”
He could hear her snarl again.
“Sarcasm is my thing. Not yours,” she grunted. “Fuck! Kill this bitch!”
Raising his blade, he sliced the sand cat’s throat and blood immediately ran from the animal and down on the woman beneath.
He heard her curse again as she released the dead animal and rose to her feet.
As she stood, the darkness did nothing to hide what was in front of him.
The shirt she’d been wearing had been thoroughly ripped. And now, instead of the fabric that had once been there, her skin was exposed.
They were there. Big, round, and jiggling as she dusted the sand from her pants, her movements punctuated by her curses.
Back on the Isclit ship, he had not looked at her naked body. It would have been wrong to do so. Even though he’d had the chance to, he’d kept his eyes to himself.
But now, in front of him, she was awake. She was herself. And she was there.
The females on his planet had similar chests, raised and protruding, but not nearly as large. But the human’s were not only raised and protruding, they were bouncing as if they had independent movement, the teats on the ends hardened by the cold air.
He found himself staring for far longer than he liked. This was exactly why he needed to keep his distance.
She was too…distracting.
Seeming to finally realize her shirt was ripped, she grabbed the torn garment and a slew of more curses left her lips.
The blood of the animal was also across her chest but she seemed to not care about that.
He watched as she grabbed the ripped clothing and tried her best to tie it together. Finally satisfied that it was presentable enough, she turned her gaze to him and he was happy the shroud of darkness was there.
He’d been staring.
Unable to look away.
“Are you done?” He tried to sound as annoyed as he could, noting that his inflection just might convince her that he was.
The snarl on her face was directed at him now and dislike shone in her eyes.
Good.
He needed that.
He needed her to hate him to remind him he should focus on other things.
Not bulging chests, jiggling in his face with teats that begged to be kissed.
If she hated him, then maybe he wouldn’t go around noticing things he shouldn’t notice.
Chapter Eight
They had started walking again and the terrain wasn’t getting any easier. Coupled with the fact that her ripped shirt was making the cold get to her even more, the smell of the animal’s blood on her skin made her screw up her nose.
They trudged for what felt like hours but thankfully, no more bothersome cats came their way.
She’d grappled with the cat when it had dashed at her out of the darkness, knocking her into the sand so fast her instincts had taken over.
She’d somehow managed to grab its head before its claws had gotten to her. It had ripped her shirt, but that was better than ripping off her chest.
Holding it in a chokehold had been hard, but no harder than when she wrestled with her sparring partner back home. He was six feet four and over two-hundred pounds. If she could stand up to him, then that foolish cat had picked the wrong girl for dinner.
Squeezing its throat had felt so good. Finally, she’d been able to take out some of her anger on something.
She’d said it before and she was going to say it again.
If any of these animals thought she was going to be dinner, they had a nasty revelation ahead.
Pressing on through the sand, the first light of day appeared over the horizon. She could hardly keep her eyes open but she would continue pushing on.
As the suns rose, the desert lit up around them, but to her, everything around her might as well not be there.
They’d been walking all night. She was absolutely exhausted and the one thing she kept in front of her eyes was white hair. White hair cascading over blue skin.
He was the only thing she kept in her sights. Not because she wanted to, but because he was leading the way.
Her eyes closed every now and then and she realized she should have listened to him and taken a nap while they’d been sheltering from the sandstorm.
Now, as she tried to keep her eyelids open, the fact that the desert wasn’t safe was the only thing that kept her looking at his figure ahead.
Yce stopped about a foot in front of her as he surveyed the sky.
She couldn’t scout for Tasqal ships right now; she was way too tired. She’d leave that up to him.
“We will rest,” he said.
She hadn’t the energy to reply.
Plopping down in the sand, her feet ached and rejoiced for the momentary re
lief.
She didn’t dare to even look at them. She’d tend to them later.
Yce trudged a few meters away toward one of the dunes and she watched him through half-closed eyes.
Taking out his blade, he lodged it deep in the sand and Diana frowned at him, wondering what he was doing.
She watched as the dune shook and the undeniable sound of tree bark bending came from underneath.
Sitting upright, the skin on her arms prickled as the hairs rose. What the hell was happening now?
The tree-bark sound got louder as Yce stabbed the dune repeatedly, stepping back a few steps as something rose from the sand.
Diana’s eyes widened.
The thing looked like a large plant. It was a large plant.
It had an uncanny resemblance to a Venus flytrap, only much, much bigger. And on its outside, it was covered in what looked like thick, woolly hair.
As its stalk stretched out, she realized the thing stood several meters in the air, but as its stalk stretched, Yce slid his blade through the center, cutting the thing down before it could fully awaken.
Diana stared, sleep forgotten.
He’d mentioned two things to be aware of in this world: sand cats and zehmips. She reckoned she’d just been introduced to the second one.
As he chopped off the plant’s head and stripped it of its woolly coat, Diana crept forward.
“This thing,” she said, looking around. “These dunes…”
“They are sleeping zehmips,” he said.
Her eyes widened some more.
There were dunes spotting all over the desert. Many dunes.
That meant the desert was littered with these things?
He’d stripped the thing before he finished speaking. Dropping the woolly part to the side, he moved back to the head.
Diana stood watching him, confused and a little interested in what he was doing.
Lifting the thing, he buried the protruding teeth sections into the sand, creating a sort of tent. Next, he spread the woolly part on the inside and glanced at her.
“Go in,” he said, his gaze dropping to her chest for a second. “Rest. I will kill another zehmip so I can use its skin to catch water.” He glanced up at the sky as he said this, causing her to do the same.