Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  "Yes. There's something else that's very wrong with you," WroOth said.

  Naatos removed two capsules from his pocket and tossed one to WroOth. He then crushed the other in his hand. A thin blue paste spread into the creases of his palm before he rubbed it in. "AaQar is scouting out a suphrite river. We'll camp there. Amelia, finish bandaging your foot."

  She shot him an annoyed glare as she continued wrapping her foot. Fear added blades to her words. "Are you sure? Because I was just thinking I'd stop halfway through. I don't have to waste another thirty seconds binding it up. I could just stop here. Really. Not a problem. I'd hate to inconvenience you."

  His eyes narrowed. He then removed the whistle from the inner pocket of his doublet and turned away.

  WroOth chuckled. "This I missed." He sat beside her and nudged her with his shoulder. "You gave us quite the scare not moving in the dungeon. For a little bit, we thought we might lose you. Of course then you showed up on the back of a bruin. But back in the dungeon, you were, well, we were afraid you might be gone."

  "I'm not that lucky." She tried not to think about how she wasn't able to clean the wound out and what that meant for it even in the short term.

  "What has put you in such a vicious mood, dear heart? Is this you feeling threatened or are you grabbing life by the short hairs and twisting because life almost ate you? Or maybe there's something else? At least now I know you're going to be all right. You can't have this much fight in you and be close to death."

  "Stop it." She pushed back. The way he said it made her doubt him. He was concerned. That reality hid behind his eyes even as he tried to be playful. "I am tired, wounded, hungry, and lost. But most of all I am angry." And afraid now, she added to herself.

  "Why? You're still alive. We're back together. We'll find AaQar and QueQoa soon enough. And then we'll figure out a way home. Everything is going to be fine." WroOth grinned. "Do you need another hug?"

  She knotted the bandage and stood again, determined to avoid putting weight on her heel. "Touch me again. Seriously. Try it, WroOth. Just try it!" She turned to walk but bumped into Naatos.

  Naatos regarded her silently, then stooped down, grabbed her by the waist, and slung her over his shoulder.

  "Hey!" She set her hands against his back. "Naatos, put me down."

  WroOth clasped his hands behind his back and leaned closer. "What were you saying, dear heart?"

  "Naatos, I can walk." She kicked, but his grip on the back of her knees never loosened.

  "Not fast enough." He strode into the forest. "And I can't carry you the other way or it will tear your back more. So stop fighting."

  WroOth swung his club back over his shoulder. He walked along a couple paces behind. He did not appear concerned about this location at all, and even Naatos no longer felt worried. The relative confidence seeped into her as he walked. It was as if they had everything they needed, and all was now well on the road to being good.

  "Wait. My bag. I need to get that." She kept her hands braced against Naatos's lower back. Her abdominal muscles and back already ached from the pose, but she refused to hang like a deer carcass. The deep lines still burned, their voices loud and insistent. Dizziness swept over her even stronger this time.

  WroOth turned back. He swept the satchel over his shoulder. For a moment, he leaned into the weight. "What are you carrying in this, dear heart? Rocks?"

  "No." She adjusted her hands on Naatos's back. He was very muscular, and it wasn't exactly easy to decide what she was going to hold onto. "Books."

  "Books?" WroOth arched an eyebrow. "Don't you have a device from your Eiram that puts them all in a virtual form?"

  "Yes, for books from Eiram, but these are books on Neyeb skills. So don't lose them. I need them."

  "You do know that if you're being chased by a predator, it is acceptable and even preferable to shed excess weight so you can move faster," WroOth said.

  "I'm not losing those books."

  "So what you're saying is, you'd be quite angry with me if I lost this?"

  "So help me, WroOth—" Amelia started. She lost her grip and fell against Naatos's back. Naatos continued, his stride unbreaking and his arm tight over the backs of her thighs. It was uncomfortably intimate.

  A rust-colored dragon swooped overhead and then dropped down before them. The ground shook at the weight. Amelia tensed, preparing for Naatos to drop her. But the creature transformed almost immediately into QueQoa. "You found her! Good. How safe are we?"

  "We need to keep moving." Naatos gestured straight ahead. "We've used two of the quarter rels capsules. We'll be fine for the next hour. You heard AaQar's signal?"

  "Yes," QueQoa said. "He's found a suphrite river."

  Naatos continued moving forward. "Let's go."

  "Of course." QueQoa fell in step in front of WroOth. Unlike Naatos, AaQar, and WroOth, he had coarse brown-blond hair that was almost shoulder-length, always windswept, and mostly straight. But like his adopted brothers, he was cleanshaven. "Amelia," he said, tilting his head to catch her eye. "I regret my treatment of you. It was wrong. And I am sorry."

  She stared at him in shock. "What family did you come from?"

  "This one." QueQoa frowned, perplexed.

  "And you're the only one who knows how to say he's sorry for things he's done wrong?"

  "That's because he's the only one who does things that require apologies," WroOth said.

  QueQoa cast a sidelong glance at his brother. "Regardless, you have my apologies, Amelia. I acted rashly. I will find ways to make matters right. If there's anything I can do to make it right, I will."

  "Thank you…" She hesitated. "I…" Words failed her. Repetition was the best she could manage. "Thank you." She blinked, her eyes burning. "I guess if you want to make sure that that one doesn't lose my satchel and my books, that would be good." She pointed at WroOth. He was almost certainly joking about destroying or losing them, but it was at least a diversion from her current emotions. He was probably teasing her to keep her from focusing on things anyway, so she might as well play into that.

  WroOth feigned being wounded. "You trust him more than me?"

  "He apologized and meant it." She shrugged as best she could.

  "I can carry the satchel if that would be better," QueQoa said to WroOth. "You know I am better suited to the task."

  "Your conscience must be such a burden," WroOth remarked.

  "I shall endeavor to strengthen it." QueQoa pulled the satchel off and then shoved WroOth into a tall clump of purple and green weeds. "Hmmmm…" He continued walking. "That might not have worked. I don't regret that at all."

  WroOth jumped up. Weeds and leaves clung to his clothing and sleek black hair. "You will."

  "Unlikely." QueQoa turned, walking backwards. "You haven't been fast enough in two centuries. And without your shifting, you would have to actually possess some skill in combat to even have a hope of defeating me. Perhaps you might consider prayer."

  "Now you're just deluding yourself." WroOth brushed the leaves from his dark-red sleeve and tackled QueQoa. The two fell off into the brush and thick leaves, soon disappearing from sight.

  Maybe asking either of them to carry the satchel had been a bad idea.

  "Hey." She tugged Naatos's thick black hair. It was long enough that it was easy to reach. "We're going to leave your brothers behind."

  "They'll catch up."

  "And if we get attacked? You'll what? Drop me?" She braced her elbow against his back, supporting her chin on her fist. She sighed. Sleep. The pain was mostly gone, but sleep had asserted itself all the stronger and louder. She could still think fairly clearly so it probably wasn't shock.

  "We won't be attacked," he said firmly.

  She rolled her eyes. "Of course we won't. It's just a world filled with giant mantises, man-eating camels, and weird predators. Apparently herbivores only exist in theory, and I'm pretty sure if they did exist, they'd be a threat of some sort. The biggest killers on Earth are herbivores an
yway. And the smallest but deadliest are all insects and arachnids."

  "You wouldn't be wrong on that point. But you aren't in any danger for now," he said, speaking in a much easier tone than before. His deep voice could be soothing at times. Less so when she was hanging here though. "The capsules we used keep predators back for a time. It masks our scent and repels, among other things. That's how most predators hunt here. And the besreds sleep during the heat of the day unless something disturbs them or they didn't get enough food the night before. But even so, they're far more sluggish during the afternoon hours. Speaking of scents though, you need to change yours. Whatever you were using to mask your scent on Libysha is gone now. You smell too much like fresh meat. Of course, if you hadn't been bleeding fresh and shooting the gun, I might not have found you until it was too late."

  "I'm glad my injuries could be useful," she said dryly.

  "As am I."

  "Were you able to help Matthu?" Her voice clenched, and a tremor passed through her arms.

  "By the time we reached his location, his companions had already found him."

  "I don't think that Libyshan medicine can handle a bullet in the gut," she said softly.

  His pace slowed, then he picked it up once again. "The bullet passed through clean enough, Amelia. It'll be hit and miss for a while, but the Awdawm was lucky. Especially for one like him. You shouldn't waste any more time worrying about him."

  She fell silent for a little longer, her thoughts becoming disoriented as she struggled to stay awake. "So if we're relatively safe, why not let me walk then?" She debated mentioning she was going to fall asleep if she remained like this. Already her head thundered, and the edges of her vision pooled and spread into darkness.

  "Because you would wound yourself or slow us down. Perhaps both. Neither is acceptable."

  "I may throw up."

  "Aim away from me."

  "I'll aim right for you, Naatos." She closed her eyes.

  He muttered some reply she didn't catch.

  It was an idle threat anyway. Her stomach wasn't the problem, and there wasn't anything in there to cast out. What was more likely was that she would pass out or fall asleep. The thought was barely through her mind when Amelia slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  5

  The Camp

  Naatos was not surprised when Amelia fell asleep, though it struck him a few steps farther along that it was possible it wasn't simply sleep.

  "WroOth," he called over his shoulder. "Check her pulse."

  WroOth hurried up behind him. He brushed the leaves and branches off his red doublet. A few snagged in the deep-lined hem, requiring him to pull them out. "What happened? I was gone a minute. If that. Is she all right?"

  "She probably just fell asleep, but make sure her pulse is steady." He slowed. Though he disliked carrying her this way, it was the best choice given their need for speed and the devastating wounds to her back. He didn't want to set her down again until they were in a more secure location and her wounds could be thoroughly treated.

  WroOth strode alongside Naatos and placed his fingers against Amelia's neck. He nodded. "Not quite the rate I'd like for someone in her condition, but she is breathing and stronger than she really has any business being. Especially when you consider what she's been through in the past couple days."

  Three sharp blasts whistled through the air, followed by two half and five full. Naatos inclined his head in their direction. AaQar had secured the river. A river with a suphrite tributary. And better still they were close. They would make it with time to spare before darkness fell. This was more good fortune. He shifted his grip on the back of Amelia's legs and resumed walking.

  QueQoa trotted up alongside him. He wasn't even slightly winded from the day's exertions, and only a faint sheen of sweat shone on his face. "The Awdawm she was trying to save, the one she cut out her elmis for... did he make it?"

  "No. But the matter is settled essentially." Naatos was surprised she hadn't spoken to him about Shon more. They had not addressed it much at all. Not that there had been much time. If appearances were to be trusted (and they rarely were), she had accepted the act quite well. At least in its aftermath. It was possible that there simply wasn't more time to deal with the situation and she had not yet fully processed Shon's execution.

  Still…

  Her responses, even at their angriest, had been off though. At least after she shot him. That had felt true enough. But after that, she had been far more restrained. Even taking into consideration everything else that had happened. They were almost certain to fight about this later.

  This and many other things.

  "I suppose it is good he did not survive. But I am sorry for her. Amends must be made." QueQoa adjusted the wrist latch on his carved leather bracers. Each one depicted a family of dragons surging over the mountains and rivers in coordinated combat, much as their cadre had once done. "This entire matter seems exceptionally unfortunate and deeply troubling." He frowned, falling back to look at her. "Did the spiders bite her again? Something smells off about her."

  "As she is still breathing, I'd say no. It's probably just the medicine wearing off." She did have an odd scent at the moment. Something in her blood. Familiar but unpleasant. An odd tang that mixed with the copper-tinged smell. As soon as they got her to safety, they'd need to see to her wounds and determine the cause.

  He calculated the time necessary. AaQar was less than a twenty-minute trek away. From there, they would need to create shelter, tend Amelia's wounds, hunt, and prepare for the night. And then they would have to formulate the next stage of their plan.

  "It smells more like venom than infection. The suphrite will right her. Then perhaps I can assess her. I am serious about training her," QueQoa continued. "She has potential, but she lacks…"

  "Size?" WroOth offered, walking alongside.

  QueQoa lifted his shoulders in a contemplative shrug. "Well, there is that. It is why I usually beat you. But I imagine she lacks knowledge of our forms and techniques, shapeshifting aside. She needs to know them if she is to survive out here. What happens if we are ambushed and she is separated from us?"

  "There is always much for everyone to learn. Let's get her to the suphrite first and conscious again before we start making plans." Naatos quickened his pace. The rels would last easily for another half hour, but he would feel better once they were in a more defensible position and back together again.

  All of the wildlife avoided them. Even the aerial predators. The rels' scent—unnoticeable to Awdawms, Unato, Neyeb, Shivennans, and Tiablos—was sufficient to warn beasts away. But even so Naatos noted that a few drew close to the periphery, closer than he liked though not within a dangerous distance. His own senses simply warned him that other things likely lurked nearby and not everything was as it had once been. Centuries and millennia had passed here. It was impossible to determine most results with the surety he preferred.

  The terrain became more even, thick vines winding through dense grass. The brush and chest-high vegetation took up every inch of soil it could, leaving gaps only beneath the bases of the trees themselves where the leaves were so thick not even a sliver of sunlight could cut through.

  Without rels, these grasses were a dangerous place to tread. Even in the forest. Even by someone like him.

  He suspected that seven-clawed raptors stalked just out of sight, on the edges of the rels, searching for a path. But the resilient blades of grass did not bruise or bend as he and his brothers passed through. They simply sprang back into their previous shape and held little to no trace of their presence. Such swathes as these were often referred to as death grass. Amelia's trail had skirted around it, fortunately.

  In the distance, beneath a broad-branched oak, Naatos glimpsed a casket-weaver. The large brown-striped arachnid slowly drew back into the branches, blinking its six hyena-like eyes. At least Amelia was not conscious to see yet another spider. The fact that it was more of a hybrid between a hyena and a spider was not
likely to comfort her much, if at all.

  He shook his head, almost amused. Yes, it had been nearly twenty thousand years if Vorec had done what he claimed. Much had changed in one sense and nothing at all in another.

  Ecekom's essence was as it had always been: vicious, carnivorous, and unyielding. It was as if she had transformed into something even more like herself, the predators themselves growing in strength and cunning. That camel had been at least a third larger than the majority he had encountered the last time he was here.

  As if hearing his thoughts, the grass to his left stirred a mere thirty feet away. Three grey-striped heads peeked just above the grass line, amber and silver eyes gleaming. Then they sank from sight.

  WroOth tensed behind him, his voice taking on a more serious tone as he spoke. "They are far too close."

  "Keep moving." Naatos did not slow his pace. "If they could get to us, we would already be in battle."

  QueQoa slowed only a little. He looked around in all directions before quickening to catch up. "I do not like this," he said, flanking Naatos on the right as WroOth moved to the left. "They are half as far away as they should be, and they do not seem disturbed."

  "They're adapting or have adapted," WroOth said. "It means the rels are still working but not so well as they used to."

  "Just stay alert." Naatos pressed back a pitcher plant. "It's still enough to provide us with breathing space, and it is better than nothing."

  WroOth cursed Vorec loudly.

  Naatos cast an annoyed glance at his brother. "I might have been able to do something about that if you hadn't broken his neck."

  WroOth returned the look with equal annoyance. "I'm sure Amelia would have appreciated knowing that you were inflicting torture on the elder commander while she was being eaten alive by an ill-tempered camel."

  "It didn't have to take long," Naatos responded, arguing more for the sake of it than because he actually felt strongly on it. Vorec's death, though annoying, was minuscule in the grand scheme. Especially now that Amelia was back in his arms. She was wounded, yes, but soon she would be restored. Then they would work things out. But he couldn't think of that.