Hunting Purity (The Hunting Series Book 2)

by Tracy Lauren

  “Would you like me to remove it for you?” I ask.

  “Huh?”

  I pick up a golden lock and pull my knife from my belt, making a cutting motion.

  “NO! Please, no!” she begs.

  “It was no threat, female, I was only offering to help,” I say in an effort to calm her. Still, she gets up and moves to the opposite side of the cave, setting herself upon a rock. I try not to notice the fact that she positions herself away from me. I also try to tell myself that I am not bothered by it.

  Trying my best to ignore her, I open my pack and empty it of the roots I gathered thanks to my scanner’s guidance and submerge them in the skull bowl, scrubbing them until they are clean. I hope these will be more suited for the female’s appetite. I do not have the time to fight with her over every single meal.

  Once the dirt is removed, I am left with a thick, white root whose smell is faintly spicy. I wonder if she would prefer this cooked as well? I cast a glance in her direction and see her finger combing her hair. My kind is hairless. I have never had to manage such a thing before, but there are many other gladiators with hair. Some cut theirs short. Others braid or bind their locks. I remember those ones all had combs, however. I think of the bones I saved from the beast and make a plan to carve her something tonight. The more I see of her, the more I am sure she was brought here by mistake, a mistake she will pay for with her life. In her final days I may as well offer her a few small luxuries, I reason. It is what Sarran would do.

  I shake the roots dry and take them to her, kneeling as I get close so that I do not frighten her.

  “Are we fighting?” she asks without looking at me.

  “You would know if we were,” I tell her, biting back a smile. But then she wipes a tear from her cheek. My smile falters. I set the roots aside for now and inch closer to her, both concerned and confused. This is not the type of thing I am good at. I am at a loss when I contemplate what my course of action should be.

  Since our play-fighting match earlier there has been an unsettling tension between us. I blame myself. I left too abruptly, shocked by my body’s reaction to…I don’t know what…the fight? Though I have never gotten hard over fighting before.

  Time and my trek outdoors helped clear my mind, but Purity has been stagnant here in the cave, stewing in her thoughts and closed off from my words.

  “I did not mean to make you upset, female. The last thing I want is for your time with me to bring you pain. I am not so cruel a male as to purposefully make your final days ones of misery,” I explain gently. She will not know my words, but perhaps she will understand the intent behind them.

  When she dives into my arms a second later, I cannot tell if I missed my mark or overshot it. Her arms cling to my neck and she hugs me tightly. Slowly, I place my hands on her back, petting her gently.

  “I’m sorry,” she cries. “You probably think I’m crazy and a terrible burden. Today has been such a rollercoaster.” She pulls away to look me in the eyes. “We’re friends, right, Hero?”

  I do not know what to say to this.

  “I know I’m not as strong as you, but when I’m better we’ll be a team, okay? We’re going to get through this together. It won’t just be you doing all the heavy lifting. I’ll be your partner.”

  My heart sinks, realizing just how little she understands. I reach for the roots, having nothing else to give her.

  “What’s this?” she asks.

  I take a bite off the end of one to demonstrate that it is food.

  “You found vegetables!” Joy brightens her face. “Can I?” she asks permission to eat one.

  “I brought them for you,” I tell her, encouraging her to take them.

  “Thank you, Hero. Have I told you lately how lucky I am that you found me?” she asks, flashing a smile that is so warm it could melt ice.

  I help her to her feet and back away, not enjoying the feeling of guilt creeping in on me.

  Chapter 18

  Purity

  Things are better between Hero and me the rest of the day. Sure he’s quiet, but he’s busy working around the cave. He leaves for a short while, only to return bearing more of the alien root vegetables for me. My heart swells.

  I’m already learning this man. He can be stoic at times, maybe even a little bit gruff, but he wears his heart on his sleeve. I can tell he isn’t used to interactions like the ones we’ve had and the level of intimacy this whole situation breeds. Which makes me appreciate him all the more when he tries to make a joke or care for me in some small but generous way. Every so often I catch Hero watching me and I beam smiles at him, feeling like the bond between us is ever deepening.

  I was emotional earlier. Overwhelmed. But I’m better now. Maybe I just needed some food in my stomach to gain perspective. It’s been an insane couple of days, I think, consoling myself.

  When Hero leaves the cave once more, I try to help out by tidying things. Even if that just means restacking the firewood into a more organized pile and putting the skull bowl up on a natural shelf worn into one wall of the cave. After a while I can hear him outside and I decide to venture out for the first time, getting a lay of the land.

  Immediately, I see we are at the bottom of the cliff I nearly fell off of and in the distance, I think I can hear a stream. The rocks out here are all an obsidian-like black, matching those inside the cave. In the more shaded areas an ethereal blue moss covers them. Everything on this world is so vibrant and crisp. Even the green of the trees is like something I’ve never seen before. I’m still looking around when Hero says something, gaining my attention. I turn to him, only to find that he’s in the middle of butchering a small rabbit-sized animal—though rabbit it is not.

  “Wow! You, sir, are like some kind of wilderness magician! Where did you get that thing?”

  He laughs and responds, peppering in some gestures for my benefit—though I still don’t catch any of it.

  “Sometimes I feel like you can understand me a lot better than I can understand you,” I tell him. He sets down his knife and approaches me. Taking my hand, he pulls me close to him and tilts his head to one side. He points to the indent that is his ear, indicating I should look closer.

  “What am I supposed to be— Oh! What’s that?” I notice something metallic in his ear canal.

  He taps my lips and then taps his ear. Then he taps his lips and shakes his finger “no” near my ear.

  “Does that translate for you?” I ask.

  He nods his head in affirmation.

  “Oh, well isn’t that a bunch a of bullshit? How come no one sprung for one of those for my ear?”

  He shrugs, having no answer for me.

  “I’m going to have to learn your language the hard way, I guess. Or maybe you’ll learn to speak English.” I smile, cajoling him. “You seem to be good at everything. Probably wouldn’t even take you very long,” I say with a wink.

  And though he smiles, he’s not buying it. Instead, he shakes his head at me and returns to his work.

  “Teach me about this,” I ask, watching him reserve the brain of the little animal. He motions toward something furry lying on the rocks a few yards away. I stiffen for a second, thinking it’s another beast, but a breeze floats by waving the edge of the fur Hero is tanning.

  “That’s amazing,” I marvel. “I can’t believe you’ve been finding time to do all this. All I’ve done is restack the wood pile.”

  The look he shoots me is sympathetic.

  “I’d like to learn, if you’d be willing to train me. Especially the fur stuff. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly dressed properly for the occasion,” I say, timidly pointing out my idiotic leotard and leggings. “I was actually on my way to a costume party when I was taken,” I explain. “All this, and the terrible hair and makeup…it’s not what I normally wear.”

  He holds up the knife for me to take.

  “You aren’t going to try and cut my clothes off, are you?” I ask, joking about my near
haircut from earlier.

  He rumbles something sexy to me and beckons me closer… Did I say sexy? Surely, I didn’t mean that. Swagger… I absolutely meant swagger. I bite my lip and draw nearer to him, taking the knife from his large and powerful hand. He’s already skinned the creature and points along the line where he wants me to cut. I follow his instruction, refusing to be squeamish about it. If he can hunt and care for us, I can do this.

  With Hero’s help, it isn’t long before I’ve prepped our dinner for the night. I feel proud as we head down to the stream together to wash up and refill the water pouch. Hero helps me along the rocky bank, conscious of my limp. I try to assure him that I can manage, but he lingers close and I pretend not to notice his protectiveness over me. While inwardly, it provokes a bevy of emotions.

  Were he a guy on earth, I’d be crushing on him hard, considering the way he dotes on me. And even here, I feel my heart flutter when he guides me around the rocks, holding my hand and steadying my waist. But there’s something else I feel for my companion, something bigger than a simple crush. I chalk it up to our shared circumstance.

  When we get back to the cave, the air is chilled and night is settling in. Hero gets to work over the fire and when he backs away, I’m surprised to see he’s set up a spit to roast the meat.

  “Did you do that for me?” I ask, touching his arm. I can’t help but feel a little silly over how deeply moved I am. “That’s so sweet, I could kiss you,” I say. His shocked expression leaves me blushing, but I mean it…the sweetness part at least. I’m moved by his efforts to make this situation more comfortable for me. What he’s doing isn’t necessary for survival, it’s just kind and generous.

  “You’re a good man, Hero,” I say. He turns his attention back to the fire, leaving me hoping I didn’t embarrass him with my praise.

  Dinner is roasted meat and a few raw root vegetables, and I’m pretty sure it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. I make sure to tell Hero just that, letting him know how grateful I am for everything. After we eat, he leads me over to a raised platform along the side wall of the cave, the place he started out last night before joining me on the ground. He indicates I should lie down and brings me my makeshift pillow.

  Before I can settle in, he’s rubbing more sap in my hair and on my feet. As much as I hate it, this time I don’t complain. Better to have sap in my hair than gangrene on my head. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to put down any of the ways Hero is trying to help me.

  “Thank you,” I tell him for the millionth time, hoping he knows the depth of my gratitude.

  I expect him to lie down beside me, but I’m surprised when he returns to the fire. I watch as he settles in, with a bone in one hand and a knife in the other. He’s still got more work to do, I realize.

  “Can I help?” I offer, sitting up. He urges me to lie back down and reluctantly, I do. But I watch him, wishing I could help in some way to lighten his burden.

  “Seen any good movies lately?” I ask. He grunts and shoots me an inquisitive look. I wrack my brain trying to think of a movie whose plot I can recall in its entirety.

  “Castaway, starring Tom Hanks,” I say emphatically. “Once upon a time, there was a man who loved his girlfriend, but part of him loved his job even more. He got on a plane, leaving her behind. He hoped to return, though, and ask her to marry him, but instead a horrible storm hit. Do you know what happened to his plane? Wait, do you know what a plane is?” I ask suddenly, wondering about gaps in translation. “It’s like a ship, if that makes sense. It flies, it’s for traveling.” He waves for me to continue. “The plane crashes into the sea and everyone on it dies except for him. As luck would have it, he washes up on a small deserted island…all alone.”

  After that I probably spend longer retelling the plot of Castaway than it would take us to actually watch the movie. I cry at the part when Wilson is lost and Hero sets down his whittling to give me his full attention. He interrupts frequently, questioning things here and there and we fumble to arrive at a point of clarity. More than once I have to bite back my laughter at some of his indecipherable pantomiming. When we get to the part where Helen Hunt goes back home Hero gets pissed. I have to promise him it will be okay, urging him to stick it out. Still angry, he agrees, albeit reluctantly.

  When we get to the end, he seems satisfied and I’m silently thankful I didn’t try to retell Forrest Gump. That would have been a real mess.

  Hero puts his things away and I wait anxiously to see where he will choose to sleep. A broad smile lights up my face when he joins me on the platform.

  He eyes me skeptically, as if to ask what I’m smiling about.

  “Will we work on tanning tomorrow?” I ask, deflecting.

  He affirms my hopes and indicates the larger fur will be used as a blanket. My smile fades. I guess cuddling together for warmth won’t be necessary come tomorrow. Likely, this will be the last time we sleep together.

  I’m surprised at how deeply disappointing the thought is.

  Chapter 19

  He’Rokvska Naa

  Dawn’s light is spilling into the cave when Purity and I both awaken. I restart the fire and chew on a root before I sit down to finish the last bits of carving on her bone comb. Last night I used a smooth stone to sand the bone down to the size and shape I desired, then I switched to my serrated blade to saw out a wide-toothed design.

  I have never carved anything before, but I am very good with a knife and the skill comes easily. Pushing myself further, I effortfully notch a few swirling designs along the side. I am pleased with the way it is coming out and find myself enjoying the task so much I consider taking up carving as a hobby. I’m already thinking of all the things I might create when I remember how busy I will be once I return to Braga Faro Sintra. Slaves do not have hobbies, my mind whispers to me. I shake the thought from my head. I am a slave no longer. Still, even the lives of the masters revolve solely around the arena…and some things simply have to be left behind.

  I look over at my prey. She is quiet this morning and still sitting in our sleeping space. I wish she would tell another story, like the one she told last night. Though the end was irksome to me. It seemed as if it were just the beginning to a whole new tale…one that I wanted to hear.

  When she finally huffs out a frustrated breath and marches over to the stack of roots we have piled in our skull bowl, a smile teases at the corners of my lips. I bite it back and keep my eyes on my work so she does not notice her effect on me, though it is unlikely. I can tell she is in her own head this morning.

  I am pleased when she starts talking. While I am endeared to the peace and quiet of this planet, I am much more entertained when Purity is doing something—whether it is telling stories, fighting with me, or just moving about the cave and talking. It makes the time pass more enjoyably. I even find myself looking forward to it.

  “It is so frustrating to get up, wanting to prepare for the day, when you have nothing. My clothes and shoes are a fucking joke. My hair is practically one big unintentional dreadlock—if I ever get all this sap out it will be a miracle. The only things I have to my name are a dead cell phone, a fanny pack, and hot-pink lipstick. I don’t even have a scrunchie.”

  She chews absently on her root, pacing the cave. I pretend I pay no mind to her words because they seem to be spoken more for her than they are for me. Besides, even with a translator, some of them are nonsense.

  “I don’t mean to complain, I really don’t. I have my life and I have you, so I count myself as blessed. That being said, I’d kill for a pair of cargo pants and some boots right now.”

  I slide one of my short swords over to her and hold my arms out, smiling. She puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes at me. “Very funny. I’m not going to kill you for your cargo pants and boots.” She eyes me for a moment. “Besides, I already thought of that and they wouldn’t fit,” she teases, allowing a smile to grace her lips, but it slips away just as quickly.

  “There’
s just so much we need right now,” she complains. “My head feels better, all I want to do is help, but I feel so ill equipped because of this stupid…stupid freaking…” She tugs angrily at her form-fitting attire. “Whose idea was it to be sexy 80s fitness instructors anyway? Why couldn’t we have had a Terminator party and I could be dressed like Sarah Conner right now? Then I could walk around without getting my cut-up feet all nasty and infected. I could help you. I could fill up water, collect firewood, dig up more roots,” she says, listing all the ways she would like to assist our meager camp.

  I am sympathetic to what she is going through. Helplessness is not a feeling I enjoy. It was something I often felt as a child when my mother would enter the ring. Now that I am grown, I do my best to avoid the feeling altogether.

  But I do not share the same sense of urgency Purity has. Perhaps she would not either if she knew her life was nearing its end. There is plenty of time to do all these little things she speaks of. I don’t even plan on beginning her training until she has completely healed. Until then, I will see that she has what she needs. Or if she wishes to do things herself, I would be happy to guide her.

  I blow the bone dust off her comb and wipe it clean on my pant leg. Her back is to me when I approach her and I give a wild strand of her locks a light tug. She turns around to offer me a weak smile, but instead, I offer her the comb.

  She gasps. Her eyes go wide and she places a hand over her heart.

  “This is what you’ve been doing? You made this for me?” she asks, her fingers grazing my palm as she reverently takes the comb.

  I shrug. “You were upset yesterday after the sap had to be put into your hair… I thought…” I trail off; she can’t understand my words anyway. For some reason I feel uneasy. Her expression makes me question the gift, because that’s what it is, a gift. It isn’t a necessity, like foot coverings or a knife. It is something I thought might bring her joy. I take a step back, remorseful. To be kind to her in her last days is Purity’s due, but to confuse her about what is to happen here…that is cruel and unfair.