by Athena Storm
“Hey, hold up. Damn it.” Daphne rushes to gather up the various bits of uneaten swam meat. “Duric, you’re going too fast. I can’t keep up, you long legged bastard.”
“Then grow longer legs.”
I’m so angry that I don’t care that Daphne is struggling. Let her squirm.
Twenty-One
Daphne
Duric’s back disappears over the top of the hill. I’ve got icy stitches in my sides and racking shin splints from maintaining a near jog for nearly two hours. Uphill. And the brute hasn’t looked back once to make sure I’m even still on his trail.
The son of a bitch hasn’t even broken a sweat.
My chest is heaving with exhaustion. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up. Hell, I’m still pretty banged up from being tossed around by those Odex monsters. It’s amazing Duric can maintain an unbroken stride at his pace for so long considering the thrashing his legs took just a few hours ago.
That’s what this is all about. He got his ego bruised over being chased up a tree, and then, worse still, rescued by a woman. A human woman, as he loves to remind me.
Puffing up over the ridge, his swaying back is barely discernible through the tangle of trees. Even if I broke into a dead run now, the best I could do is close him to a hundred-yard lead. And, it’s doubtful I could manage a full-on run. Not with the mild uphill grade we’ve landed on.
I’m seething with exhaustion and anger. This Vakutan operates on a wide arc, either disarming me through his attention and dexterity, or driving me into a disgusted rage through his pride and obstinacy.
“Dur-“
The call catches in my throat. Don’t do it, Daphne. Don’t give him the satisfaction of giving in. He’s in the wrong, and if you cave to his ego now, there’ll be no dealing with him. Keep yourself together. You can’t let him win.
And yet the situation as it is looks unsustainable. I don’t have the resources to maintain this.
At last, I come to a crest where the slope carves away from me into a valley. The downhill momentum may at least catch me up to him a bit. He’s already well ahead, of course.
But, from where I stand, I can see that he’s walking along a ridge bordering a steeper bowl carved into the hillside. If he continues along that curve, it cuts above a small stream that runs across the more extreme descent.
If I run down the harder slope and manage to make it over the river, I might just be able to meet him where the two grades even out. It’s a nasty trek. But I can’t let him get any farther ahead.
My feet decide for me, charging down into the valley before my brain has quite caught up. Thumping down through the brush with increasing speed, my legs scream for relief. Still, the added push from sheer gravity sees me whistling down the hillside, bordering on losing control.
Then it becomes a game. Trees whizz by and I aim for rocks that will allow me to leap down and gain ground. It’s an exhilarating felling, dizzying in its danger. At any moment, it feels as though my feet could trip out from under me and send me cratering down the mountain.
Honestly, that would be right about in keeping with how things have been going for me lately. My body is being pushed between so many extremes, it seems like tumbling down a hillside would come out in the wash.
One of my feet finds a false step, and the crumbling skid jolts me out of the reverie of taking a spill and confronts me with the fact of it. My blood thins out into an icy trickle. In actuality, I only slip for about seven or so feet, coming down hard on my ass and grating a few stones into the palm of my right hand.
There’s a little bit of blood, but ultimately, it’s a minor fall. Dusting myself off, I continue my hustle down the hill. Getting back up to speed, while making sure to keep just this side of becoming too hasty. Keep your head in it, Daphne.
I’ve lost track of Duric, but I feel confident that I can at least close the gap between us if I just keep moving. Beating him would be a triumph, but catching up would still count as a victory.
Up close, the stream is more formidable than it looked from up on the summit. It’s rushing pretty violently where my path meets it, and to try and trace along it might cost me valuable time. Crossing it doesn’t seem like an option given the speed and indeterminate depth.
Scanning the area for options, there are no downed trees nearby that I could shove over to be a bridge. At least none I have any hope of moving.
Further to my right is a cluster of tall trees hung thick with knotty greenish vines. Cutting over to them, I tug several to see how much weight they might be able to handle. The first couple seem suspect, but I land on one that bears my weight when I really lean into it.
Fuck it. It’s worth a shot.
Though, I have to wonder – if I end up splashing into the stream and getting swept along, would I call out to Duric? Would he even hear me? I’ve lost sight of him.
Again, my body makes the call ahead of my mind.
Hustling up the slope a bit, I bolt back down and give a solid leap just at the edge of the stream. The vine thrums under the exertion, but delivers me near enough the other bank that I can risk the jump.
It’s not my most graceful landing, but that doesn’t much matter. It’s not like there’s anyone I’m trying to impress. On any other day I might linger to let myself gloat a bit in the swing, but I’ve got too much ground to cover. Lighting out again, the incline carries me along and I find my stride readily.
The ground begins to level out, and I must be reaching the point where Duric’s path should reconvene with mine. About twenty yards ahead of me is a boulder. I scramble up on top of it and stop to rest for the first time since our fight. He may have passed the area already, but to hell with it. At this juncture, I’d be content to let him steam on ahead of me.
Thankfully, that proves not to be the case.
Within minutes, I can see him tramping down the hillside off to my left.
“It took you long enough,” I call out to him.
His head snaps in my direction in surprise, and his expression settles into a mild kind of wonder. Stopping in his tracks for a moment, his arms go limp and dangle at his sides. The fire seems to go out of his step and he paces leisurely over to where I’ve set up shop.
“How the hell did you do that?”
“What?”
“Don’t be cute,” he snaps, “you know what.”
I square my gaze on him. “Strategy. I didn’t just go charging off like some idiot. I looked at the terrain and picked the way that would take me farther faster.”
Duric sniffs and looks at the ground, nodding lightly. He hates this, but I couldn’t care less.
“You owe me an apology, you know.”
“Do I?” His eyes have snapped back up to meet mine, a recalcitrant fire just behind them.
“You’re damn right you do. Picking a fight with me over your stupid wounded pride and then charging off to leave me behind. It’s more than rude, it was downright dangerous. I’m not going to pretend that I could hope to keep up with your stride, that’s not the point. The point is, if we got separated – actually separated – there’s no telling if we could have found each other.”
“True.”
“And then where would I be,” I go on. “It seems pretty damned pointless to save my life and then leave me stranded out here just because you want to be in charge.”
“Someone has to be in charge, Daphne.”
“That’s a load of shit, and you know it, Duric. There are two of us. We’re a team. And in a team, it’s give and take. And that’s not ‘you give orders, I take them.’ Nobody’s getting anywhere that way.”
For the first time, he looks truly chastened. I’ve struck a nerve.
“You’re right,” he says at last. It’s a quiet admission, and his demeanor has shifted.
“Would you like some water?” Duric holds the canteen out to me, and I take it gratefully. He leans back against the rock and closes his eyes.
“It’s hard to listen, and I do
n’t like to be wrong.” The matter of fact edge to his voice belies his confession.
“Nobody likes to be wrong, Duric.”
He sighs at this and shakes his head.
“I’m used to making my own way. It’s a rare situation I can’t fight my way out of.”
“Well, I’ve had a front row seat to two of them.”
He laughs, cracking open his eyes to look at me.
“I’ve been witness to a couple of yours too, you know.”
“Yeah, but I never made the same claim. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Duric’s grin turns just a little bit wicked.
“That may be true, human woman, but I’d say you’re a healthy dash of both.”
I slide down off the rock and hand him back the canteen.
“Well, Vakutan. You would know.”
Twenty-Two
Duric
The sun has ceased to be a blazing yellow disc above us, and has grown bloated and red as it loiters on the horizon. While I’m glad to be free of its oppressive heat, I lament the loss of its illuminating rays.
Our target mountain peak still seems frustratingly far away. It’s almost as if we’ve made no progress at all, though I know that’s not the case. The meat from the weird herbivore sustained us, but it’s been a long, sweaty hike through the jungle, and I find myself growing hungry again.
I’m not looking forward to the left over portions from my kill. The meat had been barely palatable when it was hot, and eating it cold is not something I think I will savor. I suppose I could build another fire, but charring the plant-meat more probably won’t improve the flavor.
At least Daphne and I have ceased our hostilities. Now that I’ve had time to cool down, I realize that I had been quite foolish. Instead of letting my ego get in the way, I should have listened to her wise counsel.
I keep checking to make sure she’s still following along behind me. Daphne sees me and smiles, though it’s a bit strained. Between the Odex roughing her up and sleeping on the ground, Daphne is having a rough go of things.
Of course, I feel much the same, but I am Vakutan. Physical discomfort is not something we consider of great significance. As long as you care able to put one foot in front of the other and carry your khaffi, you’re good to fight.
“Duric, I can barely see my hand in front of my face. We should stop for the night.”
“Agreed.” I’d actually been looking for a good place to do so for several minutes, but it doesn’t seem important to mention this right now. Plus, she might take it the wrong way and destroy the tenuous peace we have enjoyed for this afternoon. “It has been a long hike.”
“I’ll say. I think the diurnal cycle on this moon is pretty long, but my chronometer is out of whack thanks to the magnetic interference.”
I grunt noncommittedly.
“You’re right. I expected the sun to sink below the horizon long before now, but we did make it that much further toward our goal, which is good.”
We pass by a small cave, but upon investigation the ceiling drops down to knee level. We could barely manage to wedge ourselves within, I suppose, but it would be far from pleasant or secure. The most we could hope for is to stay out of any potential rain.
Then I consider climbing one of the many trees and camping out on their gigantic, spreading branches. However, we lack climbing equipment, or any way of securing ourselves to the tree. It wouldn’t do to roll over in our sleep and plummet to the ground.
The feeble red rays of the sun are almost snuffed out when I finally spot a decent place to bed down for the night. A humongous remnant of one of the triangle trees looms in our path, most of its bleached white branches long since fallen. But the trunk seems sturdy enough, and forms three walls and a makeshift roof for shelter. It’s big enough for us to stand up inside of it, and the moss covered floor is down right spacious.
“This isn’t bad at all.” Daphne uses the green glow of one of her datapads as a make shift flashlight. “You don’t see any of those tendril things, do you?”
“Tendril things?” I chuckle. “Is that a scientific term, biologist?”
“I’ll show you a scientific term, you big lummox.”
I cry out in shock as my buttocks sting. She spanked me. Turning about, the glare melts off my face as she begins laughing in earnest. Soon I’m laughing with her, and the dark and gloomy jungle doesn’t seem to terrible or foreboding.
“You are an agitator of fecal matter, woman.”
Her lovely face scrunches up in confusion, and then she begins laughing.
“I think the human term you’re looking for is ‘shit disturber,’ Duric.”
“Close enough.”
“Maybe for you. Try saying that to a human and you’ll get the same reaction I initially had.”
“As long as they get the gist of my argument—did you hear that?”
Daphne freezes, swallowing hard as she casts fearful and furtive glances about the hollowed out tree trunk.
“Sounds like—skittering. Do you think it’s the tendril beasts?”
“No, it sounds like feet. Bide.”
I take one of my packs and empty it out on the moss covered floor. Then I move to a knothole and place the bag over it entirely. Glancing at Daphne, I use my chin to indicate a section of bark several feet away.
“Pound on the tree trunk in that location.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it wo—I mean, please.”
Daphne’s eyes go wide, staring at me in shock as if I’ve just grown another head.
“Okay.” She walks over and balls up her fist, beating it against the side of the tree. The skittering increases, accompanied by a high pitched clicking noise. My bag suddenly bulges as dozens of tiny creatures fill it in their attempt to flee from Daphne.
A couple of the furry little rodent type animals slither out of the bag before I can tie it shut, but then I hold it up in triumph.
“I have a feeling these will taste better than our previous meal.”
Daphne cringes a bit when I take the bag and smash it against the ground until there’s no more sound or movement, but she does help me skin and butcher several of the critters. They are plump and meaty, covered with fine white hairs that do little to hide their wrinkled, alabaster skin. Nasty looking teeth line their jaws, and I feel lucky to have avoided being bitten.
Our petrified tree trunk shelter features enough holes to the outside that we can safely build a fire right inside. The giving tree just keeps on giving, because the dead wood inside of it has avoided being deluged by rain and is dry enough to make lighting the fire a simple matter.
Daphne takes a delicate bite of her critter, and a cautiously optimistic expression crosses her dark features.
“It’s actually not bad. Kind of tastes like chicken.”
“Chicken? Isn’t that a foolish game you humans play with vehicular combat?”
“Ah, perhaps, but it’s also a small, domesticated avian species that we grow for sustenance.”
“Are they good?”
“Most people think so. Oh, there are so many ways to cook chicken, Duric. Fried chicken, roast chicken, chicken salad…”
“Hmm. Perhaps you could prepare one for me—“ I shake my head. “—that is, if you want to.”
“Duric, I’m not much of a cook.” She shakes her head and laughs. “I can synthesize chemical compounds with the best of them, but I can’t even make toast without burning it. If you were looking for a wife who can cook for you, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
I arch an eyebrow at her choice of phrase.
“Wife?”
Daphne’s eyes go wide, and a slight bit of color comes to her cheeks. I believe she’s embarrassed.
“Ah, it was just an expression, um—so how does yours taste?”
I eye her incredulously, knowing that she’s trying to change the subject, and take a bite of my meal. It has a rich, if somewhat nutty, flavor, far easier to stom
ach than the swamp lizard repast of earlier today.
“Hmm. Not bad. Reminds me of an Alzhon lutta.”
“A what?”
“A root vegetable. It’s their staple crop on the Alzhon home world. I think they even have a museum dedicated to it, so enamored are they of its rustic and versatile nature.”
“Intriguing. You know, the Alzhon are the Alliance species that most of the IHC seems to think are the closest to being human.”
“Hmph. I suppose you mean that as a compliment.”
“Not really.” She smiles and leans against me. “Besides, I’m more fond of Vakutans, are at least one in particular.”
I slide my arm over her shoulder and kiss her softly. We pull away, gaze at each other, and then kiss again with more intensity. Grunting, I pull her clothing off of her shoulders even as we roll into the moss.
Daphne gasps as I unzip her garment, revealing her naked breasts. Instantly I put my mouth on her glorious flesh, amazed at the softness and pliability of her body. She strokes her hand across my facial ridges, touching them with an intimacy that suggests her feelings are more than purely physical.
She offers no resistance as I pull her leggings off and nuzzle my face into the moist, dark patch of hair between her thighs. Daphne shudders as I ply my tongue along her wet gash, teasing the spongy flesh into arousal.
Our bodies heave in the firelight, and her soft cries have nothing to do with pain or fear.
Twenty-Three
Daphne
After what he put me through earlier today, it’s very tempting to lay back and let Duric to all the work. But he humbled himself earlier and apologized, so I can’t help but feel like I ought to reward him. And really, giving my body over to him goes a long way toward making me forget about the aches and the bumps. At least the bad kind of aches and bumps.
