by Ruby Dixon
Li-lah is waiting for me, I know it. With every sunrise, I feel my knowing sense grow stronger. I will rescue her soon. It is what keeps me going even when my tail goes limp with exhaustion. But every cave I check? There are no signs of Hassen or Li-lah, so I move forward.
It is after many days of searching when I see a set of footprints in fresh snow - large footprints.
Hassen’s footprints.
My heart pounds at the sight and I race forward, following the trail. They lead around into one of the shallow canyons near the mountains and I follow it in — and nearly collide face to face with a tired-looking Hassen.
My frustration boils over at the sight of him, and I fling down my pack before he can even greet me. My head lowers and I charge, ramming my horns into his gut and sending him sprawling.
“Rokan!” he snarls. “Stop!”
Before he can get to his feet, I am on him again. I slam him back to the ground and my fist crashes into his jaw. The rage and frustration inside me is so great I can practically feel my khui humming with the force of it. I raise my fist again, only to be flung off of Hassen. I skid backward into the snow and pick myself up, ready to charge at him again.
“Just wait, Rokan,” Hassen growls at me.
“Take me to her,” I tell him, fists clenched at my side.
He touches his jaw, and there is blood at the corner of his mouth. He spits into the snow and then glares at me. “Let me speak.”
“There is nothing to say. You stole Li-lah. You took her. She is not yours to steal away—“
“She is gone.” He grabs his spear from where it is discarded in the snow. “Which I tried to say, if you had let me speak.”
I ignore his sullen words and straighten, frowning. “What do you mean, she is gone?”
“I mean she left. I had her safe and comfortable in a cave, and when I got back, she was gone.” He looks angry. Good. Now he knows what I have felt ever since he stole her.
But his words do not make sense. Li-lah is soft and fragile, and she does not know this place. “Did metlaks take her? Do—“
“No. She took a pack and food supplies. She stole some of the furs from the cave. She decided to leave.” He sounds disgruntled. “It seems that wandering in the snow is preferable to letting me care for her.”
I bark a short, hard laugh. “Good.”
“Why is that good?” His expression is full of bitterness. “I would care for her. I would make her my mate.” He rubs his chest. “But she hates me.”
I feel a burst of pleasure at his words. Li-lah may be small and weak, but she is not too weak to push away Hassen. “Where did she go?”
He shrugs. “She laid a clever trail. Her footsteps end abruptly and I can find no trace of more of them. I have been out looking for her.” He gives me a sour look. “You can help me look, now that you are here.”
I smile. I cannot help it. In all of my tortured thoughts of Hassen and Li-lah for the last several hands of days, I never expected this. “You should return to the tribe home. I will find her.” I tap my chest. “My knowing tells me this.”
His eyes narrow and he gives me a curious look, dusting the snow off his furs. “I am surprised you, of all the tribe, is the one to attack me. When you hit me, I thought it was Bek.” He rubs his chest. “Or does your knowing say something to you about Li-lah? Does it tell you who she will resonate to?”
“It does not tell me she will resonate to you.” His face falls and I feel a surge of pity for my friend. So I add, “It does not tell me she will resonate to me, either.”
Hassen sighs and leans over to pick up his discarded pack. “I know you say that you will find her, but I will not leave until I know she is safe. Even if she hates me, I still care for her. I am responsible for her safety.”
I nod. Li-lah’s safety is greater than my pride, or his. We are united on this. “We will cover more ground if we split up. Shall we agree to meet in a few days to check back with each other? So we are not searching endlessly?”
He agrees, and we make plans. There is one hunter cave larger than the others, and more central. It is also further away from metlak territory and we agree to meet there in a hand of days and regroup.
I retrieve my own pack and set off in a different direction than him. We must find Li-lah before she is hurt or attacked. Until I have her seated safely in front of a fire, I will not relax.
And the pleasure I feel at the thought of Li-lah running from Hassen?
I will savor that when she is safe.
7
LILA
I’m not sure the one-eyed yeti knows what to do with me.
I’ve been with the yeti people for two long days now. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s been two days. It’s hard to tell because they stay in caves and don’t use fire. There’s light pouring in from the cave entrance up above - the yeti cave is more like a deep pit or a hole than a regular cave, and anyone that wants to leave has to climb out. Other than the sunlight at the top, the cave is shadowy and dark. I guess their big, glowing eyes are enough for them to see by in the dark. Me, not so much. And because I can’t see - and can’t hear - I’ve spent the last two days in a quasi-state of fear and calm.
It’s weird, but it’s almost like I’ve been captured by animals at the zoo after wandering into their pen. I get the impression the yeti don’t want to hurt me, but I also get the impression that if I make the wrong move, they’re absolutely going to snap me like a twig.
There’s at least twenty of them in this ice cave. Some are young, and some are old. Some are small and female, with a baby furball sucking at a breast. Some are much bigger and a lot more aggressive. They stalk through the cave, trying to establish dominance, and making the others quiver in front of them. Every now and then, the males fight - a brutal, clawing fight with fangs that leaves the defeated one bloody and torn up. And when they look over at me? I do my best to look small and helpless.
They do communicate, though. Their gestures aren’t quite like American Sign Language, but I’ve noticed them give the same subtle hand signal when handing a female a root to eat. One or two have offered me the same roots, but it’s always males offering, and I worry that if I accept, I’m going to become Wife #2 or something scary. So I don’t answer and just hug my furs tighter to my body. It’s only when they leave the roots behind that I grab one and chew on it. It tastes terrible but I’m low on options.
Really, really low on options.
I haven’t tried to escape, mostly because there are always a bunch of the male yeti pacing around the cave, and they scare the crap out of me. They’re constantly acting like ragebeasts, and I’m afraid that if I don’t get away fast enough, they’ll dismember me like one is doing to his most recent kill. It seems that the females get roots and the males get whatever it is they decide to kill that day? I watch as one pulls apart a kill and then stuffs a handful of innards into its round, gaping mouth.
Ugh.
I’m waiting for a plan. I don’t have one yet, but I’m sure one will come to me. Because I can’t stay here. They smell, and I’m cold, and I don’t think I’ve slept since they grabbed me. Did I think I was in danger with Hassen before?
Boy, I had no idea.
The yeti male that’s eating looks over at me. It’s the one-eyed yeti that initially grabbed me. We make eye contact and I mentally cringe, dropping my gaze. The last thing I want is their attention, especially that one. He hovers a lot and seems to think I belong to him. Or that we’re friends. It’s impossible to tell with these guys.
It gets up and I cringe. I wish I had my shiv. Or my pack. Or anything.
I wish Maddie was here.
It comes and squats right in front of me, and the stink of unwashed dog hits me like a truck. He makes a subtle hand gesture that I’ve seen him make several times before, always aimed at me. Does that mean friend? Property? What?
Before I can attempt to figure it out, my one-eyed buddy holds out a length of intestine toward me.
&
nbsp; Is that supposed to be a meal?
Horrified, I grab one of the terrible roots I’ve been holding onto and start chewing. Maybe if it thinks I’m already eating, it won’t push intestine on me. Because if it makes me eat that? Well, I’m not sure how these things are going to react to a puke-fest. I carefully avert my gaze and wait for him to leave.
Seconds pass. He remains seated near me and my skin prickles uncomfortably. Is he just going to wait? Like, forever?
A shadow passes in front of the cave entrance, blotting out the light for a moment. I look over automatically and see a hint of blue.
Hassen? I hold my breath, because at this point, I might even consider that guy a hero if he shows up and gets me away from here.
The blue shadow disappears and the yeti standing near me gives up and shuffles away a few feet to finish his dinner. I continue to stare at the cave entrance up above, hoping someone’s come to rescue me. I gaze up for so long that my neck starts to get a crick in it, when I see a small movement again.
There, a hint of horn. Someone is there.
My heart hammers in my chest and I press a hand over it, both excited and relieved all at once. I don’t know how Hassen’s going to extract me from this place, but I’m confident if anyone can, it’s one of the big blue aliens.
Then, the alien peers out from the edge of the cave, just long enough for me to see his face.
It’s not Hassen after all.
It’s Rowdan. The one with the kind eyes and the hint of a smile.
My heart beats even faster, and a surge of joy rushes through me. Oh. This is wonderful. I press my fingers to my lips, because I feel like laughing and I don’t know how the yeti will like that.
The one-eyed yeti makes the hand-signal at me again, head cocked.
This time, I ignore it. I don’t need to talk to him. Rowdan’s here to save me - from both Hassen and these walking rugs. I look up at his hiding spot and grin as he puts a finger to his lips, indicating silence. He sees me, too. I give a slight nod in response. Quiet. Got it.
My heart, however, isn’t paying attention. It’s weird, because my chest is practically vibrating, and my pulse feels so loud and frenetic that I can feel it all through my body, like a rumbling purr.
How strange.
ROKAN
Resonance.
It has terrible timing. And yet it is wonderful.
I gaze down at Li-lah’s dirty, pale face down in the metlak cave. My breast is humming a loud, possessive song at the sight of her. My knowing is vibrating all through my body.
This is what has nagged at me for endless days. This is why I feel so possessive of Li-lah. This is why the thought of Hassen touching her enrages me. This is why she did not resonate to him.
She is mine.
Mine.
The thought fills me with unspeakable joy, and utter terror. She is surrounded by metlaks. The creatures are known for their wildness and brutality. They can change moods in the blink of an eye and I have seen them tear their own young limb from limb. She is not safe.
I have found her. My khui has found hers. But I must get her away from here.
I rub my breast, the hum of resonance song so loud I worry that the metlaks will hear it. I must retreat from the cave for now, or I risk giving away my position. My entire body clenches in a silent cry at the thought of leaving her, but I must. I take a few cautious steps away, smoothing my tracks in the snow with a branch so none see I have been here. I hurry to the shadows of a nearby cliff and dump my pack out, looking for answers. I have three knives, sixteen arrows, my bow, and rations. I have a waterskin, fire-making supplies, and…and many, many metlaks standing between me and my mate.
The thought staggers me and I grip the cliff wall to support myself.
A mate. I have a mate. Beautiful, fragile Li-lah is mine. My khui sings louder at the thought, until the noise is echoing in my ears and feels so strong that I am surprised I am not shaking the snow off the mountain peaks with the force of my song. I realize, almost as an afterthought, that my cock is hard and aching. Resonance has well and truly gripped me.
Now, however, I must focus on rescuing my mate, not on how my cock aches to be buried in her cunt. Or how warm it made me feel to see her eyes light up with pleasure when she saw me.
Focus.
I stare down at my supplies. Normally when I run into metlaks out in the wild, it is never more than one or two, and they are easily dispatched or scared away. I have never had to confront them in their burrow. I think of Li-lah, at the bottom of the metlak den, and reach for my arrows. Metlaks do not like fire. If I can find a way to bring fire to them, I can chase them out. I gather my supplies and shove them back into my pack, thinking. What if I wrap something around the head of each arrow? It will weigh it off balance but it does not need to go far, just to drop into the den and flush them out. Maybe fur? Dvisti fur? But how will I get it to stick? I think, then change directions, heading for the pink, swaying trees on the next ridge. If I cut through the slippery outer skin, the inner part of the tree is sticky with sap that burns. I can use it. I will destroy my cache of arrows, but it does not matter.
As long as I can save my Li-lah, I will do anything.
It takes longer than I would like to prepare my arrows. They are a clumpy, sticky mess by the time I have coated the front half of each one in sap and then covered it in tufts of dvisti fur from one of my boots. I build a fire and tuck one of the coals into a small bowl, shielding it with my hands as I slowly approach the cave. The twin suns are heading toward the horizon, which means the metlaks will be in their cave. They do not hunt at night. The sky-claw, however, are another matter.
One problem at a time, I tell myself.
I manage to creep near to the entrance of the metlak den without being spotted. Carefully, I set down my sputtering coal and add bits of tinder to it, then blow on it to make the fire go higher. With cautious, careful motions, I pull my bow free and ready an arrow. I point the tip down in the cavern, considering where to shoot first. Not directly down into the cave, in case Li-lah has moved from her hiding spot. I will not endanger her. I will shoot the ice walls first, and let my arrow tumble to the cave floor below. The first arrow can provide me light, enough to see where my next should go.
I suck in a breath, picture Li-lah’s pale, frightened face, and then steady my hands. I will not fail her. My khui hums a throbbing song now that we are close to the cave again, making it hard to concentrate. I cannot think about Li-lah. Not right now. So I concentrate on my plan. I must be ready to leap away at any moment when the metlaks stream out. I do not need an entire tribe of enraged metlaks in front of me, and me with nothing but sticky arrows.
But I must do this. I dare not leave my Li-lah in their hands overnight. I tip my arrow, holding it against the flickering coal of fire. It sputters and hisses, then lights up, the fire streaming down the body of the arrow. It moves very close to where I hold the arrow, flame licking at my fingers. I ignore the searing, burning pain, gripping my bow and aim for the cave wall.
I let my arrow fly.
There is nothing but silence. I do not have time to worry if it has gone out. I light another and raise it to fire when I hear the first angry hoots of the metlaks below. I let the second arrow fly, and then a third. There is the sound of hands climbing the icy cave walls and then I grab my weapons and quickly scale the cliff, just out of sight.
I cling to the cliff wall, two full body lengths above the entrance to their den, and look down below as the metlaks pour from their cave. They scream and race out into the night, terrified by the flames on my arrows. I watch, anxious, as more and more crawl forth. Then, the stream of bodies lessens to one or two. Then just one. Some race into the valley, but braver ones are lingering. I have to get Li-lah, and now is the time. I swing back down to the ground and land with a thud, then toss my bow to the ground, exchanging it for a knife. I grip it between my teeth and use my hands and feet to climb down the steep walls of the metlak burrow. M
y arrows still sputter with fire, though one has gone out. The others will not last much longer.
There, in the corner, hiding under furs with frightened eyes, is my mate.
I rush forward and take her by the arm. The action startles her and her entire body shivers with a jolt of fear, her eyes snapping open. She gasps when she sees my face, and then her hands fling around my neck. “Rowdan,” she whispers.
I take my knife from my mouth to speak. “I am here for you, Li-lah,” I tell her, tossing it aside and stroking her hair away from her face. She is filthy and smells like metlak, but she is beautiful to me. “Can you hold on to my neck?”
“I can’t see your mouth,” she mumbles, and pats at my chest. The frantic look in her eyes just grows worse. “Can’t see your mouth to read what you’re saying. You have to help me.”
“I wish I knew your hand signals,” I mutter, but haul her to her feet anyhow. We can communicate later. I take one of her hands and put it at my neck, and then try to drag the other arm around my throat, hoping she gets the idea.
She does - both her arms go around my neck from the back and then she’s choking me with how tight her grip is. I feel her small body shivering with fear, even as our khuis hum and their songs blend. I ignore the surge of excitement that the press of her form against mine brings, and hike her legs around my waist. Time to climb out. I grab my knife again and put it between my teeth, and then take to the walls.
Li-lah makes small, frightened whimpers as I climb. I do not blame her - my hand-holds are poorly chosen and we sway back and forth as the ice crumbles, but my goal is speed. We must get out before the metlaks return.
Amazingly, we manage to break free from the cave to the surface just as the first metlak regains its bravery. It screams an angry challenge at me, but does not approach. Li-lah clings to me, chokingly tight, even as I scoop my pack and discarded bow from the snow. I consider lighting another arrow, but Li-lah is whimpering and scared. I grab my nearly extinguished coal and fling it - bowl and all - at the metlak lurking nearby. It scampers away, hooting a warning, and I haul Li-lah higher on my back and then race into the hills.
