by Tracy Lauren
“Oh no. This is not okay,” I say firmly, looking at the wooden cage I’m in. It looks like they’ve brought me into a clearing within the thicket of trees. Judging by the night sky, I must not have been out for very long. That thought makes me bite back anger over the fact that I was out at all. I mean, what the fuck did they give me?
“Hazing is a crime!” I shout. “It is punishable by law and can shut down an organization permanently and I’m not just talking about your chapter! This is unacceptable! I am an active member of the campus’s Fraternity and Sorority Judicial Board and I can tell you right now, you’re in deep shit!”
Beyond my enclosure I hear someone scoff and I peer through the bars. I see a row of cages just like mine, stretching out in both directions, forming a half-circle.
“Who’s there? Emily? Hannah? Is that you?”
No answer.
Bright floodlights have been set up outside and it makes it difficult for my eyes to focus on anything in the shadows. “Hello?” I call, but still, there is no reply. I hear only the sounds coming from the trees, they rustle in the breeze and some type of night bird screeches in the distance causing me to jump. Faintly, I detect someone sobbing.
“Completely unacceptable,” I say to myself, crossing my arms over my chest. I suddenly remember my fanny pack. My hands fly to the zipper and I pray for the pepper spray to still be inside, but it’s gone. Luckily, I think I might have an even better weapon…my phone.
I’m about to call the police on these assholes. But when I swipe the screen it doesn’t light up. I hold down the power button and a picture of an empty red battery flashes at me. I frown at it, this doesn’t make any sense. I made sure my phone was at 100% before I left the dorm, there’s no way it could have run out of battery in less than an hour.
“I don’t know if tampering with a person’s phone is criminal or not, but if it is you better believe I’m going to press charges!” I yell at whatever douche bags are hiding out there.
Angrily, I pace my cage. My freaking cage! This is so wrong. This is huge. I’m going to be on the news, I realize, wiping dust off my clothes and patting at the knot that is my teased hair. Of course I’m dressed like this the day I’m going to be on the news, I lament. It only makes me more angry at whoever put me in here. Though, to be honest, I can’t think of a single frat house stupid enough to pull a stunt like this. I mean, clearly, this is an outrageous crime.
My thoughts are still racing when I notice activity coming from the other cages. “Emily!” I call out. A low and steady clicking sound is my only reply.
My outrage grows and I scan the bars of my wooden enclosure. Maybe there’s a weak point? I’m sliding my hands over the wood, paying close attention to the side that looks like a door when suddenly, it just pops open.
Finally, now we’re getting somewhere.
I stride out, stopping a few feet in front of my cage and crossing my arms over my chest. These assholes are about to hear it.
I see another girl come out of her cage. She doesn’t look familiar to me and I figure she must be from another sorority…though her clothes are strange. I look to the next person and am perplexed by the costume they’re wearing. There’re no other parties planned for tonight… I mean, who in their right mind would throw an event competing with our 80s night?
But sure enough, more costumed students come out of their cages. Only, these don’t look like the typical party supply store costumes. Save for two other girls, the rest of them all look like they’ve got on full stage makeup.
Prank show is the only thing I can think of, though the prospect doesn’t make me any less pissed off. This still feels like a damn kidnapping to me and I am three weeks deep in a Women’s Studies class, so I am not to be fucked with. “I did not sign any consent forms for this!” I shout, but other than a few sideways glances, no one seems to be paying any attention to me.
Then, something like an audio system kicks on. The others stiffen as a voice fills the air, but the sounds are completely unintelligible.
“What the…” I wonder aloud.
A buzzer blares and I jump, covering my ears. Everyone begins scrambling for a stack of things lying between the cages and a large glass building.
“What the fuck is going on here? What is everyone doing?” I wail as some of the group darts out into the dark trees. People are running every which direction and their frantic behavior begins to wear on me in a different way. Fear starts to creep in. I lock eyes with a dark-haired girl, but she quickly looks away and heads to the pile of items before us.
There’s another girl nearby and I march over to her as she desperately clutches a few items to her chest. I grab her by the arm, ready to demand answers, but when I look into her eyes I pause. I have anger and questions, but this girl seems to be in the same position as I am, so I’ll give her my questions and save the anger for someone who deserves it.
“What is happening?” I plead.
Panic stricken, she looks from side to side. “You don’t have a translator?” she asks.
“A what?”
“Look, you need to run. There’re a few supplies left, some food, a little water. Grab a pack, fill it with anything you can carry and fucking run. There are hunters coming!” she warns me, her voice weighted with fear.
“You’re not making any sense—”
“I don’t have time for this, I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head and pulling away from me. “They’re going to kill you if you don’t run. You need to get out of here.”
“This is a sick joke,” I tell her, and despite the fact that my brain still thinks this is some kind of fucked up prank show, my eyes begin to prick with tears.
“Look at me,” she says. Her voice is desperate. “You will die if you stay here. Please, just run.”
She leaves me then, alone in the clearing. There’re only a few others left still fighting over the diminished pile of supplies. Two costumed men are struggling over something, I take a step back and try to process what’s happening.
One of them is bent over, but as he straightens his body just seems to keep going up, up, up. He reaches for the other man with long arms, arms so long his knuckles could scrape the ground. The other one crouches, his body looking more animal than man and his tail whips in agitation.
I back farther towards the trees as they begin to swing at each other with dangerous-looking fists. There’s guttural growling coming from each of them and I watch the scene in confusion and horror. The crouching one gets hit hard and his body, much larger than any man’s, comes sliding through the dirt in my direction. It stops only a few feet away. With eyes wide and a gaping mouth, my attention shoots to the other one and it looks back at me. His eyes are like giant orange marbles, but instead of two, I count four.
There’s a scream frozen inside of me. I can’t seem to suck in enough air to get it out and I stumble backwards until the forest envelopes me.
“Please, just run,” the other woman’s voice echoes in my mind.
Chapter 7
He’Rokvska Naa
The dust has yet to settle, but the lights have already been cut in the clearing outside the dome. I make my way to my prey’s cage, trying to pick up her scent. It’s potent along the bars and on the ground and I inhale deeply, committing it to memory.
It’s a strange fragrance, not at all what I was expecting. I imagined salty sweat and musk, galvanized by long days in the sun—the scent of a warrior. Instead it is something sweet and floral, reminding me of ripe fruit in the hot season. Undeniably, there is a delicateness to it, nothing at all like the hardened warrior I saw earlier.
Inside her cage she has left nothing behind, save for her incongruent scent. So I leave this place, blood drumming in my ears. Eagerly, I step into the forest and immediately notice the loud sound of crunching leaves beneath my feet. With a frown, I scan the trees around me before ascending a nearby trunk. I climb high amongst the upper branches. Even from my new elevation I can still detect my
prey’s scent wafting through the rich aroma of clove and terra intrinsic to the forest.
She is not far from here, still close enough to catch. Though I have no plans to kill her tonight. First, I will find her and study her, learning all that I can. Only after that will I attack.
I delve deeper into the forest, quickly discovering that even in this early stage, the anticipation of the hunt thrills me, causing my body to hum with excitement. I still carry the anger brought on by Kosi’s other guests and the heat of it spurs me onward, but every moment I spend out in the woods leads me further from it. Slowly, I give myself over to this game. What He’Rokvska Naa does, he does with the entirety of his being.
I grab a thick branch and swing from it, launching myself to the next tree, relishing the feel of the rough trunk against my palm and the quiet openness of the forest. It is nothing like the arena. I can’t help but compare the two settings as I home in on my prey’s scent. In the arena there is the constant white noise of the roaring crowd. And in the arena, there is no chase. I suddenly realize that I have never truly pursued anything before.
Continuing to propel myself forward, swinging silently from the branches, I imagine chasing the female warrior on foot, her painted face looking over her shoulder as she flees. Her eyes locking onto mine. I can see the appeal in this mode of battle.
Thinking back on the speech Kosi gave to his guests, I remember how he urged us to indulge. To treat our time here like a vacation. There is no such thing as a vacation for a slave. Never in my life have I indulged. Of course I have been offered females, food, drink, and celebration, but those were the indulgences of Sarran’s guests. Not at all what I might choose for myself. But I am a slave no longer. I am a master now, and this… I breathe in the fresh night air, laced with the scent of my prey. This is what I would choose for myself. This is my indulgence.
My feet land on another branch and I gain my bearings, looking out into the ever-darkening night. A myriad of other scents float through the forest…other beings trying to make their escape perhaps, but the perfume of my prey rises above the others, trailing off into a different direction than the rest.
“Where are you going, warrior?” I wonder aloud.
I am curious about the choices she makes and hasten to follow her. It isn’t long until I see a pale figure darting between the trees. The sound of her breath and the crunching of leaves beneath her feet is loud and unashamed. This is a bold one, I preen, proud of my choice in prey. To think that the unworthy Ihasa might have had her brings a scowl to my face, but I have no time to brood over it. The female is fast and moves through the trees with purpose. I hurry after her, keeping silent and out of sight.
I notice she touches nearly every tree she passes… No, it’s more like she leans into it. I cock my head, unsure of the purpose of this. I have never been in a terrain such as this one. I wonder if the warrior has? Maybe there is something she knows, a trick of some sort.
I allow her to surge ahead and silently drop down from the trees. Keeping my eyes darting back in her direction, wary of her skills, I approach one of the trees I know she leaned upon. Looking closely at it, I study the bark. Nothing about it stands out. There are no scratches or marks left behind, only her sweet scent.
Ah! That is it. She is leaving scent markers behind for navigation. I smile, enthralled by her cleverness. So bold is she, to leave behind such a rich trail of her scent. It is as if she does not fear me in the least. But that is only because she does not know me, I think to myself. Before long, she will learn to fear He’Rokvska Naa.
With an impatient bound, I take to the trees once more, continuing my pursuit. When I come upon the pale warrior again, I notice she is slowing. I look ahead of us and see that she approaches a clearing. There is less cover there and I will not be able to follow as closely as I would like. Still, I bring myself as close as the trees will allow and keep my eyes locked on her agile body.
Once she breaks the tree line, the moonlight shines down on her and I get a better view, if only from the backside. I do not understand her garment in the least. The bright covering she wears thins to a sliver and dips between her legs, accentuating the globes of her ass. It doesn’t seem to be the most comfortable thing to wear, but it is tight and there is no excess cloth for an opponent to grab onto. In that sense, it is at least functional. Judging from the bright colors, I also have to wonder if it is ceremonial in nature. It is hard to say, I know nothing of her kind.
Human…that is what the Ihasa called her.
Ahead of me, she slows to a halt and drops down onto the ground, hanging her head low enough to touch the forest floor. She prays, I think. I nod appreciatively. I admire the ones who follow the old ways and give honor to the Gods.
Eventually, she pushes herself upright but remains seated on the ground. Her shoulders shake and it looks like she is working to do something, but my view is obstructed. I swing to the next tree and then to the one that follows, hurrying to change my vantage point. Finally, I come to a stop. I see her pale face now, lit by the moon. War paint is smeared over her delicate features and her hair is untamed, reminding me of the golden and dried-out grasses I saw in the meadow when my ship first docked here.
She was a work of art when she stepped out of her cage, now she appears wild and bestial. My cock hardens at the fierceness of her appearance and the transformation a few hours in the woods has caused.
Having never seen a human before, I find myself longing to know what is under all that paint she wears. I would wager the arena crowds might be intrigued as well. Perhaps if she proves herself as a formidable opponent, I can get more of these humans for my stables back home. I will have to ask Kosi how much he paid for this one.
Something flashes in her hands and I curse myself for being distracted. I narrow my gaze, only a moment ago she had nothing…and now… I peer closer. Weapons. Two of them, one in each hand. She wields them in front of her, looking out into the shadows of the forest. It isn’t until she rises to her feet that I realize where they came from. She had been wearing the stiletto blades on her feet. Ingenious.
I lean against the trunk of the tree, taken aback. What a clever weapon to carry. And the skill it took to walk upon knives all this time! Especially trudging through the blanket of leaves on the uneven forest floor. They must be a symbol for her kind, like my twin short swords are to me, signifying power and strength. Though, my blades pale in comparison to hers. I cannot think of a single gladiator who could maneuver in such devices, myself included.
Then, a thought strikes me. What if this is a fight I cannot win? Adrenaline pumps hard through my veins and I can almost hear the sound of the arena in my ears, roaring for blood. I lean forward on the branch, wanting to get closer. Will this be the creature who brings down the great He’Rokvska Naa? The idea is exhilarating.
The warrior checks the perimeter of her clearing, weapons poised in her hands. Though her frame is small, there is a litheness about her. And I know from so many years in the arena that size means very little. A fight is all about skill.
I watch her closely as she secures the surrounding area, but my mind is lost in thought. I have never faced an opponent I did not know I could best, but looking down at the warrior below I realize there are too many unknowns to be sure. If she is stronger than me or a better fighter, then I welcome an honorable death by the blade of one who is worthy. The thought shouldn’t be arousing, and yet…
My ever-hardening cock strains under my clothes and I rub the front of my breeches, trying to assuage the ache. I bite back a laugh, thinking of all the females who have thrown themselves at me and those I have been gifted with after battle. Yet, until this moment I have never been so aroused in my life. I guess it takes a strong female and the threat of death to get me off, I think proudly.
The warrior seems satisfied with the safety of the area and circles back to the center of the clearing, where she first dropped to her knees to pray. There, she lies down on the ground and clutches her weap
ons close to her chest.
I kneel in a crouching position on my branch, assessing her behavior. What could she possibly be doing, I wonder? I watch her for a long while until it seems her breathing evens out. I straighten immediately, a frown crossing my features.
Does she think to sleep here in the openness of this clearing? Sure, she has put her scent marker on all the surrounding trees—which might work to deter predators, if only her odor was not so sweet. But it is sweet! Every predator for miles will be drawn to it. The longer I watch her, the more I am sure she is sleeping and anger swells within my chest. She may be a bold and powerful warrior, but to sleep in the open, unguarded in the way that she is… Well, I cannot reconcile the stupidity of that.
It isn’t long before I start to hear the creatures of the forest coming out of their dens. They sense the warrior in their midst and my heightened night vision detects movement all around the clearing. The Ihasa’s words ring in my ears. He warned me of the perils of this planet, a warning that perhaps the female did not receive.
Something large and covered with dark fur looms over a rock and jumps down near the edge of the clearing. I grit my teeth in anger. I refuse to let any harm come to my prey that is not dealt to her by my hands. But I am also not ready to make my presence known. So, when I tear from the branches, I am all stealth.
My prey does not stir, but the creature becomes aware of my presence. I near it, one short sword drawn. It is like a great carpet of thick hair and it grunts and undulates as it moves. I see no face, but am intensely aware of the dangerous claws it uses to scratch and dig into the ground, propelling itself forward. Its grunts become more frenzied as I near and it scuttles toward me. I leap over the ugly thing, driving my sword into its center as I do. It spasms and screeches, so I drag my blade across it—hard and quick, bringing it to its end.
I shoot my gaze back to my prey and sure enough, she has startled awake. I am standing not far behind her when she sits bolt upright. Still not ready to be seen, I dive into the darkness the forest provides, and when I look back, I see that my warrior has gotten to her feet. She gives a few small battle cries as she looks down at the ground surrounding her. It appears to be moving.
