by Louise Wise
The four-legged natives had tried to kill her a long time ago, and that’s all she remembered of them. He’d once thought that too, but now wondered if it had been the buggy that drew them to attack. They were used to it now, but back then it was something new and something that held their goddess.
He raised the bowl to his lips and drank, not answering her. He wanted a moment to think. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘I think I understand,’ he said, almost to himself.
‘You’ve no understanding in broth etiquette,’ she said.
He put the bowl on the floor. ‘I’m right, the natives see you as a divine being and me as your warden, or more than likely, you’re my warden.’
She broke up her bread and dropped it into the broth. Finally, she looked up. ‘You want me to reply? What can I say to that? It’s crazy! Of course they don’t see me as a goddess.’
‘Your eyes are the same as theirs—not colour or size—but in the structure. You have coloured eyes on white—so do they. They think you are one of them.’ He looked at her. ‘They think you are their leader.’
‘Oh, puleese!’
‘No, I mean it.’ He turned to her. ‘You need to meet them and see how they adore you.’
‘No way, José.’
He reached for his bread, broke it up and put a piece in his mouth. He chewed, then said, ‘How’d the mother honnard react to you? Anger? Violence?’
‘She seemed nervous and…’ Jenny shrugged, then said, ‘humble.’
Fly smiled knowing she’d just backed up what he’d said.
Realising, she scowled at him. ‘Sometimes you over think things. Maybe this cull of the natives is a natural occurrence? We’ve only been here a short while in evolutional terms.’
‘And if this isn’t a regular thing that they do?’
‘I guess we could be in trouble.’
Chapter Six
Collecting fruit and veg was a task she enjoyed, and something she needed to do on foot because of the dense terrain. She held a basket in one hand, and the other checked repeatedly that the gun (Bodie-made from the remains of the spaceship) was secure around her waist.
As usual, she didn’t go right into the forest but stayed on the outskirts and looked for the best trees and bushes for fruit. She often had to climb for it. She was agile and used to the activity now. Second nature.
Kill one another.
Fly’s words kept echoing around her head. She’d never answered him. Was she supposed to? She was almost grateful for the deaths of the native and cub so she could avoid answering—then felt guilty for having this reprieve.
Fly was obsessive. Once he had something in his head, he wouldn’t let go. He hadn’t mentioned it again, though, and that evening they made love in their little cottage. Fly was gentle and tentative, as if worried he’d hurt her or the baby, and then they lay together, watching the flames dance in the fireplace, as they listened to the rain against the window.
Jenny felt safe and warm in Fly’s arms. She loved him utterly and completely but her pregnancy had opened up his insecurities. Before, he obsessed over her leaving him for Bodie and Matt. He obsessed over her relationship with Bodie, not understanding that her love for him was like that of a daughter for her father. He obsessed over them wanting to kill him—OK, so he was right on that one. But Fly had never done anything half-heartedly. It was all or nothing, with him. Kill or be killed.
When he’d spoken about the natives last night, and the reasons why they might have moved settlement; of the dead mother honnard and her cub and of the stick dolls, Jenny had encouraged his talk, wanting him to obsess over them and leave her and the baby alone. She felt fine. If there was a poison leaking from her womb she’d be feeling ill, and apart from the sickness, which was normal, she felt healthy and strong.
She checked one more time that the gun was safe around her waist, and began to climb a tree. She climbed easily, taking care not to disturb the sleeping ‘monkeys’ in the branches. The furry animals had a blade for a tail, and were very protective of their habitat. Luckily for Jenny they were lazy. There was a rustle further up, and bits of foliage fell in her hair. She looked through the canopy of the tree tops, but could see nothing—although one section did appear darker than it should. Maybe an entire family of monkeys was living there? But the creatures were solitary, so Jenny doubted it.
She didn’t feel overly threatened. The monkeys and the elecat seemed to be the only creatures that lived in the trees. The elecat were harmless, and comical to observe. A small, furry catlike creature with small elephant trunk-like legs that curled around the branches as it slept, usually in oblivion, as the monkeys climbed around it. Jenny thought the name ‘elecat’ was appropriate.
She was feeling for the next branch and clinging on one-handed when she heard a howl.
Whether the wolves or honnards walked on four legs or two, they were the howling beasts that had once tried to kill her, and the howl, this close, made her freeze.
Whatever Fly said, to her they were one species with their small yellow eyes, shaggy bodies, wide jaws and strange teeth that seemed to resemble molars all the way round—she’d seen them first-hand when they’d attacked her.
She wasn’t in agreement with Fly that the native wolves, two or four-legged, had day. As far as she was concerned they were after her, and she couldn’t trust them.
The two-legged creatures, the honnards, which Fly liked to call them had a supposed intelligence that lifted them higher than an ordinary native-wolf yet the scalp-tingling howl was pure beast. Primeval.
The howl came again, it was closer than before. Jenny swung her leg over a branch and with the basket looped over her arm, she clung onto the top branch with her other hand and looked down. She heard movement in the shrubbery below, and then saw the shaggy head of a native. It was upright. Its stance human. The ordinary four-legged native wolves could stand for short periods on two legs, but this was a honnard because in its hairy hand, it held a spear.
It lifted its head, pursed its lips and howled—and noticed Jenny. It stopped mid-wail, and turned a full circle without taking its yellow eyes off her. It dropped its spear, reached up to grasp the upper branch, and shook the tree. Jenny clung on as twigs and leaves rained onto her.
‘You wait, you bastard,’ she muttered. ‘Wait until I tell your master about this.’
Normally, the creatures ignored her—or watched her covertly when they thought she wasn’t looking like the female honnard she’d seen yesterday. Being friends with Fly had raised her in rank in the eyes of these creatures and they kept a respectful distance—usually.
The native lowered its arms, and stood observing her for a moment. Then it reached up and shook the branch again. Shook it so hard there was a snapping sound. It flung the broken branch to one side, and then reached for another.
‘Chuff, chuff,’ it chanted. ‘Nar-chuff, huff-huff. Chi-Chi.’
‘God’s sake!’ She wasn’t overly scared. The wolves didn’t climb trees, and she had the gun to scare it with—or kill it. There was even a whistle attached to a piece of twine around her neck. Fly was within possible hearing distance. The river wasn’t far away, and water carried sound.
Another branch broke off in the native’s hands and it threw it to one side.
At this rate, there’d be nothing left to climb down! Jenny looked up and around, assessing if she could climb across to the next tree. The forest was so densely populated that it was normally possible, only her tree stood slightly out of reach from the others. She looked up. The top branches met, but they were thin, and wouldn’t take her weight. She noticed the dark section had moved to another spot in the tree. She peered to look, but the native below was shaking it so much all she could see was a vibration. She clung on.
When the third branch broke, she reached for the gun. She aimed somewhere on the ground. She didn’t want to kill the animal. Just scare it off.
The noise of the gun had the native scamper
ing away. The recoil made Jenny’s elbow make painful contact with a thick branch behind her. The gun slipped from her fingers and she made a hasty grab for it, cursing loudly. She grabbed it, but her foot slipped from the branch and her basket fell to the ground, its contents spilling.
‘Damn!’
She righted herself, shoved the gun back into her waistband.
She peered around. The native seemed to have gone. She glanced up. The darkness had gone too.
Weird.
She slid down the tree, dropping the last few feet thanks to the lack of branches. Picking up the basket, she gathered up some lost fruit and spotted a single feather on the ground. It was black, speckled with yellow. And large. The largest feather Jenny had ever seen. She picked it up at its bony point and stared at it in shock.
‘Chuff-huff.’
The native’s gruff voice made her grab her basket and hurry to her boat whilst looking furtively over her shoulder. She dropped the basket and feather into the boat then climbed in, took up the oars and rowed across.
She looked back, and saw the honnard peeking out of shrubbery, it must have watched her climb down the tree, pick up the fruit and scurry into the boat. It had a chance to attack her, but didn’t. Instead, the creature had hunkered down to watch her looking… sheepish.
Jenny frowned.
Sheepish? Really, Jenny?
‘Pick much fruit?’
She turned around. Fly was coming towards her looking big, sweaty and gorgeous. Even his scars, part of him, made him all the more sexy. Her body reacted. Still high on adrenaline the feeling was enhanced.
He bent and reached for the boat as she came towards him and pulled her in. He held out his hand to help her out.
‘No, a wolf attacked while I was up a tree,’ she said, taking his hand and was practically lifted from the boat. She just had time to grab the basket. He took it from her.
‘Attacked you?’
‘Wrong word,’ she said as he looked like he was about to dive in the river and go after it. ‘More like scared me. I was fruit picking up a tree, and along came this wolf, saw me, and started shaking the tree, pulling off branches. I used the gun to scare it away—I’m surprised you didn’t hear it?’
‘I did. I was about to swim across the river when I saw you on the other side.’
‘Well, it scared him away, and then it must’ve watched me climb down and get into the boat without attacking me.’
Fly looked across the river, shielding his eyes with a hand. ‘It’s not there now. You said “wolf”. Two legs or four?’
‘Two. It was a honnard.’
‘Neither species are climbers,’ he said. ‘You would’ve been safe up the tree. You should’ve used your whistle and waited.’
‘I thought he’d gone.’ She tucked her arm through his. ‘But, you know, there’s nothing like a near-death experience to make you horny.’ She peered up at him suggestively. He understood the word “horny”, used it himself now.
‘You’re not frightened?’
She expected his confusion. Normally, the natives caused her to be a trembling wreck. ‘That’s the thing, I don’t think it wanted to hurt me. It seemed…’ she pulled a face, ‘sad.’
‘Sad?’
‘After I’d used the gun to scare it away, it seemed, I don’t know, humbled. Like the honnard wolf yesterday, before she was killed. Oh, and what do you make of that?’ She turned and pointed to the boat where the feather lay. The wind had blown it half beneath the seat.
Fly reached for it. ‘I found a feather like this before. Exactly the same in colour and length, but it was on the plain near the mountains.’
‘Mountain birds?’
‘Birds this big would have a problem in the jungle. But imagine how many pillows we’d be able to stuff if we found one!’
Jenny laughed. They began to walk up the hill towards their house on the other side.
‘It’s the honnards I am concerned about,’ Fly said. ‘They are acting out of character. I expect them not to hurt you, but they’ve changed towards us. With me they seem uneasy, but you have grown in rank with them.’
He dropped the basket, with its small amount of fruit, next to a broken wheelbarrow. The feather, he tossed to the ground. Animals and birds were in abundance on Eden and they hadn’t encountered even half of them.
‘You’re over thinking this,’ Jenny said.
‘I have to be cautious, Jenny. I will make a lock for the door and shutters for the windows.’
‘They can’t cross the river!’
‘Which “they”? The honnards or wolves or a more advanced species we’ve yet to find out about?’
‘You trying to scare me?’
‘Maybe.’ He stopped and turned towards her. He fingered a lock of her hair. ‘I love your hair. The colour, the texture.’
‘Hmm, are you coming on to me?’
He pulled on it slightly; tipping her head, then extended his claws and sliced off a piece.
‘Hey!’
He grinned, and poked the hairs in his pocket. ‘The honnards think you’re some magical being, and a little gift from you would show them your gratitude.’
‘My gratitude? For not eating me? Anyway, what about what I want?’
Puzzled, he looked down at her. ‘From them?’
‘No, from you,’ she said. She placed the palms of her hands on his naked chest. Then she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
Breaking apart, Fly bent his head and nibbled on her neck and Jenny’s eyes closed as his lips moved round to her throat. He tipped her backwards, but held her so she couldn’t fall. He was so big; he completely covered her body.
He righted her and tugged at her upper clothes; pulling the homemade poncho-style garment up and over her head. He tossed it to one side. Her breasts freed, he lowered his head and licked a puckering nipple.
Jenny, her hands tangled in his hair, groaned and Fly pulled the nipple into his mouth and sucked hungrily. His other hand lowered and found the waistband of her trousers. He pulled them down and slipped his hand between her legs. She parted them for him; inviting him in. But then the rest of her clothes became too much of a barrier. She moved away, and dragged them off until she was naked before him. He stood in front of her, watching as she removed the items. His ruined, scarred face—a warrior’s face—seemed impassive as his all-black eyes devoured her body.
Jenny shivered under his gaze.
He stepped forward and cupped her face in his large, disfigured hands. His black hair danced in the wind, and then his mouth took possession of hers.
They made love there on the prairie with no one to see them apart from the grazing cattle and the odd small bird in the sky.
They were King and Queen of Eden. Rulers of their world.
Utterly alone, and survivors of their fate.
Chapter Seven
Life here was tough, and it wouldn’t be long before they became old. How would Jenny cope without him? How would he cope without her? Even if the pregnancy was successful, would she survive the birth? How would they cope with a baby…
The word panicked him. Not that it was another mouth to feed—that didn’t bother him at all. But keeping them safe did. He was paranoid about illness and accidents, not his—Jenny’s.
He closed the barn door. Jenny was inside the house sewing. She’d not answered him about their suicide if the pregnancy went wrong. She hadn’t even mentioned the pregnancy again. She didn’t understand his fears, but then she’d not been alone for years, hearing nothing but animal noises. Although, he’d been glad he was the only survivor of his spacecraft: as a carrier of criminals and wardens, the occupants would have killed Bodie and Matt immediately. Of Jenny, he didn’t like to think about it.
He opened the door to their house, and rechecked the lock he’d made by locking and unlocking the door.
‘All in working order?’ she asked, coming up behind him.
He straightened and turned. ‘I’m satisfied. I’m going to go into
the forest and collect wood to make shutters for the windows,’ he said. He had wanted to board up the windows completely, but Jenny complained she’d have to use the “smelly candles” all the time instead of just at night, and so he’d compromised.
‘Now? It’s almost night.’
With the many moons, Eden’s nights were a perpetual twilight, but it was the nocturnal honnards and native wolves that made Jenny afraid of the night.
‘I want to make the shutters as soon as possible,’ he said. ‘The sooner I collect wood the sooner I can make them.’
‘Fly,’ she said, anxiety in her eyes. ‘Be careful, there are more of them than us.’
He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I will be back before the second sun sets.’ He stepped outside. ‘Lock the door after me.’ He pulled it closed and waited until he heard the bolt slide into place. He grabbed an axe and slipped the handle end through his twine belt.
He swam across the river leaving the boat, as always, for Jenny, in case she needed it. She was also fearful that a honnard would use it to gain access to their land. It was a senseless fear as they were afraid of water.
At the edge of the forest, he chopped down a small tree and then cut it into manageable pieces. The axe broke several times, but used to having to make do, he tied the sharpened steel back onto its wood handle without a hint of anger. His old spaceship had been recycled in many ways, and he often went back to where it lay to scavenge for parts. The last time he went he was surprised at how quickly the environment had grown over it—the ship was almost hidden now.
He heard a howl in the distance, and looked to check the sky for the time. One sun had sunk below the horizon and the other was low in the sky. Its rays scorched the heavens in red, yellow and orange.
A four-legged native came out of the forest. It rose on two legs, tipped its head back and howled at the setting suns before dropping to its usual four-legged stance.
When Fly first developed a friendship with them he thought they were copying him by standing on two legs and it wasn’t until later that he realised there were two varieties—native wolves and honnards.
