Hunted (Eden, #2)

by Louise Wise

  The four-legged creature looked impassively at Fly, and then sat on its haunches making sounds. Unlike the honnards it couldn’t ‘speak’. Fly loved hunting with the native wolves. It was exhilarating. Primeval. It was also an outlet. The honnards were more organised and lacked excitement.

  Fly looked at the pile of chopped wood; he felt he had enough to make shutters for the windows tomorrow. As the native wolf watched, he bundled them up into easy piles and tied them with twine to float them across the river.

  Several natives were frolicking on the plain sending up dust clouds and the sitting native wolf jumped up and bounded towards them on all-fours.

  Werewolves, Jenny had muttered when she’d first seen their playacting. A mythical beast—half man, half wolf. But they weren’t the canine creatures, which Jenny had explained to him; they were evolving people. As if to prove this, a tall figure peaked the hill and stood looking down on the squabbling inferior native wolves.

  Fly slipped in between trees, hiding himself among the foliage to watch the honnard. It carried a staff, and an animal pelt hung round its neck but apart from that, and its upright stance, it looked identical to the four-legged native wolf. It threw back its head and howled, and the others stopped all movement until one reared up and howled in answer before falling back to all fours.

  The honnard shook its staff at them. ‘Che-lers,’ it shouted.

  The native wolves howled.

  ‘Kernuff.’ The staff was held up towards the sky, and the others howled again. As the honnard turned to disappear down the other side of the hill, the native wolves followed.

  Fly came out of his hiding place feeling perturbed. It looked like the honnard was pulling in more recruits for his clan. Was it just for strength in numbers, or was it something more? Like forming an army?

  Fly dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out the lock of Jenny’s hair. Earlier, he’d dipped the ends in sticky tree sap and it had dried hard binding the hairs together. He rolled the hair between finger and thumb, thinking hard. He had to find out where he and Jenny stood and whether they were safe or not.

  He was always taught to face his enemy and kill it. Maybe the time to do that was now. He glanced at the suns. The second was still glowing—he’d time.

  The wood was a dark, dank place and in the disappearing day, darker still, but Fly’s eyes, glowing catlike, was able to see perfectly as he turned towards the jungle. Fungi hung off trees and the boggy ground was cumbersome to the feet but Fly knew this part of the damp jungle like the scars on his body. The deeper he went, the boggier it became until his feet were ankle deep in mud and sludge. The trees were riddled with life, and animal chatter filled his ears as he passed underneath.

  The new settlement was deep in the damp jungle, but he remembered the way easily. He soon left the sludge and bogs of the low ground behind, passed the still untouched grave of the mother and her cub, and ploughed on towards the natives’ new lair.

  He slowed on reaching the settlement, and stepped through the trees silently. Through a gap, he scanned the area. Unlike before, no fires were burning. Most of the natives, Fly knew, would be waiting for the last sun to set so they could hunt. There was movement towards the far side of the dell; a large animal was being skinned. It was a fresh kill; Fly could feel its heat escaping into the air.

  The settlement was at the base of a craggy mountain, and embedded in its structure were caves. When Fly had first seen them, he thought they were natural, but now wondered if the natives had dug them out.

  Above one cave, its opening almost hidden beneath a canopy of foliage hanging from its rocky surround, was the effigy of Jenny.

  They clearly worshipped her; but why had Bo joined his group with this one? Had Jenny brought them together—or something else?

  A native howled; the sound was shrill and panicked. Fly looked up towards the sound, and saw a honnard on a mountain peak looking down at him. Fly had forgotten about the ‘look out’ and he’d been spotted.

  ‘Che-lers!’ the honnard on the hill shouted, and then howled again.

  The skinning of the animal was halted as honnards ran out into the clearing jabbering to one another. Others surged from the caves, all holding spears or rocks. Fly stepped out of the trees feeling uneasy. Bo had introduced him the other day, and he was sure they’d accepted him.

  ‘Bargi!’ Bo came running over, and Fly was never more pleased to see him. Bo’s gait was strangely light against his stocky build. ‘Ji-ji, Chi-Chi, bargi!’ he shouted.

  Instinctively, Fly’s throat had contracted, ready to spit venom, but now it relaxed and he stood bemused as the natives lowered their weapons.

  Bo gruffed angrily at his fellow chums, and turned to Fly, beckoning him over with elongated hairy hands. Fly stepped out of the shadows of the trees into the glade. He noticed a few honnards from the old settlement looking ashamed as they dropped their weapons. The rest of the tribe eyed him, not with mistrust, but with intensity, as if they were trying to figure him out. He dug in his pocket and took out Jenny’s red hair, and held it out for all to see.

  Bo clapped his hands together, the claws making a clacking sound. ‘Bargi,’ he said. ‘Bargi, Ji-ji.’

  ‘Bargi,’ Fly said. He thought the word was a greeting of some kind. ‘I’ve come to see how you react to me, and to give you this little gift.’

  The natives stared at the red hair in the palm of his hand, craning their necks to get a good look.

  Fly took another few steps into the settlement, his hand still outstretched with Jenny’s hair. He pulled out the seashell necklace from around his neck so it was in full view, but left it around his neck. He wanted the natives to see that the hair on that was the same as the hair in his hand.

  ‘Chi-Chi. Bargi,’ Bo said. He made a line against his own face with the tip of his claw; it parted his facial hair in exactly the same line as the raised scar on Fly’s cheek. ‘Chi-Chi bargi, nardi chuff-chuff.’

  With a spark of amusement, Fly wondered if Bo was telling them that he had tamed the big Jelvia by scarring his face.

  Fly had kept his hand outstretched to show the watching honnards, and some native-wolves, his peace offering.

  The alpha honnard came over; Fly recognised him from his lack of body hair. He wore an animal hide, poncho style, over his upper body. His genitals were clearly showing below the garment.

  The honnard stood before Fly and eyed him with its yellow eyes. When Fly’s outstretched hand brushed against its chest the alpha dropped his gaze and looked at the hairs in Fly’s hand, then bent and sniffed them. Fly closed his hand around the hairs, and the alpha looked up at Fly in surprise.

  Fly tapped his own chest where his necklace rested. The alpha’s eyes fell on it before looking back at Fly with uncertainty.

  ‘She’s mine, do you understand? Mine.’

  ‘Chi-Chi,’ the honnard said.

  Like “Ji-ji” meant “Fly”, “Chi-Chi” was the honnard word for “Jenny”, or rather, “red-headed goddess”.

  ‘I hope that’s an agreement.’ Fly knew they couldn’t understand him. He could only hope that the gesture of giving Jenny’s hair would make them realise she was friendly but not their possession.

  He opened his fist and allowed the alpha native to pick up the lock of hair. He chuffed at Fly and then walked around the camp showing everyone his gift. There were lots more chuffs, whoops of delight and “Chi-Chis”.

  The alpha turned back to Fly, and trotted over. Fly noticed he had claw-like hooks growing out of the back of his heel on both of his feet. He appeared to be the only one with this type of growth—probably what made him an alpha of the group.

  Evolution fired out mutants from time to time to test how they fared; that’s how progress worked. That’s how the Jelvian race developed, and that’s how the human race had moved from cave to space in such a short time.

  The alpha was clenching and unclenching its hand over Jenny’s hair, chanting, ‘Chuff-chuff nuff-nuff.’

&n
bsp; Fly wasn’t sure what it was trying to say, but hoped this was a final acceptance of his presense, especially as the rest of the group had slipped away to continue with whatever they had been doing before Fly made his surprise visit.

  ‘Chuff-chuff,’ Bo said, and Fly looked at him. The honnard bared its teeth in a grin before stretching out a hairy hand to touch the shell part of Fly’s necklace. On the fourth touch, Fly pulled off a few long strands of hair and held them out.

  Bo jumped back as if Fly had threatened him, then he hunkered down and stared up at the hairs with unblinking yellow eyes.

  Fly crouched down in front of him; the hairs still held out for Bo to take. ‘You want her here, don’t you?’ he said.

  ‘Chi-Chi,’ Bo said. With a clawed hand, he reached out and touched the red hairs then snapped his hand back as if he was touching fire.

  Fly looked across at the alpha male. He had tied the hairs to his staff, and sat looking at it with something like satisfaction on his face. Fly looked back at Bo as a sudden thought came to mind.

  ‘Was it you shaking her from the tree?’

  ‘Chi-Chi, Ji-ji,’ Bo said, and moved to touch the hairs again. This time he grasped them and pulled them from Fly’s fingers. The native sniffed the hairs and then put them in his mouth.

  ‘Trying to catch yourself the red-headed goddess?’ Fly eyed Bo with interest. ‘And what would you do once you had her?’

  Bo took the hairs from his mouth and squashed them in his fist. He gestured to the sky, then very strangely, walked over to the cave entrance where the stick doll of Jenny was pinned, he pulled it off, then threw it upward. When it fell back down, he scooped it up, and placed it back over the cave entrance. His actions caused a few ‘chuff-chuffs’ from the alpha male.

  Did they think some divine being was about to snatch her from the sky? Was that what the honnard, keeping watch on the highest point of the mountain, was doing? Fly looked to see it he was still there. He was. Looking very proud and warrior-like on the hill against the backdrop of the moons.

  Fly rose up. The second sun had slipped from the sky; he’d left Jenny for longer than he’d intended.

  He looked up to the top of the hill again. Something had caused the honnards to leave their settlement and join with another, bigger, more evolved, group. Was it the same something that had forcibly taken a mother from her cub and kill her?

  A premonition feathered his spine.

  He knew there were more groups of honnards and native wolves, and had seen how they interact with one another: with polite but guarded benevolence as they traded food and tools. But they’d never interfered with one another. It was all peaceful.

  Until now.

  Chapter Eight

  Jenny pulled her gaze from the. The first sun had set a while ago, and although the other was high in the sky, it wouldn’t be long before it joined its sister.

  Knowing she’d drive herself crazy if she kept worrying about Fly she set about filleting a leg of beef. ‘Beef’ came from the cow-like cattle they farmed. They wasted very little. The skin would be used for clothing, fat was used for candles, and the antlers, hooves and even teeth were used for tools. The meat was food to be cooked or cured, and left to hang in the barn. The waste, if any, was thrown into the river, where the fish would consume it. As she chopped the meat and sliced the vegetables, Jenny tried humming an old nursery rhyme to calm her worries.

  It didn’t work, but as she scraped the meat and veg into a clay pan she congratulated herself on not looking out of the window for at least ten minutes.

  The oven consisted of three sections: the lower was a simple fire and forever lit. The second was just above the flame, the top was hot air (activated by bellows which they had to hand-pump), and the one which they used most for cooking. She slipped the pan inside the heat, then began to mix dough to make bread—still refusing to give in to her fear and look out of the window.

  A cow mooed, the wooden wind chime hanging from the barn door sounded and a light wind rattled the window. Despite her anxiety, all was normal in Jenny’s so very un-normal world.

  She was pumping the bellows to the cooker when Fly banged on the door making her jump. She ran to answer it. ‘It’s way past dusk,’ she said as she pulled back the lock. ‘What happened? Everything OK?’

  ‘I smell food,’ he said, standing before her, drenched from his swim back across the river.

  ‘You’re late,’ she said, but threw her arms around his neck. ‘And wet.’ She withdrew with an ‘Eewww’.

  ‘The river’s wet,’ he said, serious. He followed her up the short passageway and into the kitchen. He sat on the stool. It was rickety, and Jenny was worried it’d crush under his weight.

  ‘We need to mend that,’ she said.

  ‘I’m worried.’

  ‘About a stool?’

  ‘No, the honnards.’ He found it hard to understand sarcasm, and Jenny was delighted when he sometimes “got it”, which was rare. Water was dripping off him onto the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice. He seemed restless.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ She moved to pump the bellows again, but went over to him instead. ‘I knew something was wrong when you didn’t come back before dusk. Were there more honnard killings?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I had an interesting evening. The natives were agitated, but when I gave them the lock of your hair they calmed down.’

  ‘You’re kidding me?’

  He gave a half smile. ‘You’re their goddess, whether you want to believe it or not. They have effigies of you all over their settlement.’

  ‘But I don’t understand. That’s good, right?’

  He took her hands. ‘Our group of honnards and wolves have joined up with another group, and I think it’s to give them strength against a clan that’s hunting them.’

  He paused and Jenny remained silent, knowing he was trying to find words that wouldn’t alarm her. His black eyes went from sparkling to dry and back again.

  ‘They have carvings of a red-haired person all over their camp, which makes me believe they’d like nothing better than the real thing. They think you’re their protection against these hunters.’

  She pulled her hands away. ‘That’s absurd—’

  ‘To you and me it is, but these are underdeveloped people. ‘These killer honnards might be part of a new breed of native who have migrated here and are trying to assert their authority. Our honnards could just be protecting themselves with carvings of you and not want anything else. They were very pleased with your hair,’ he added.

  ‘Oh boy,’ Jenny said. She didn’t relish being a prisoner in her own home. She grabbed the bellows and began pumping hot air into the oven.

  ‘I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I’ll begin making the shutters after I’ve eaten—I think I chopped enough wood. Is the food ready?’ he added looking pointedly towards the oven.

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘Could you recognise the native that tried to shake you out of the tree?’

  ‘Only that it was a honnard, other than that, they all look the same.’ She turned and leaned against the counter. ‘You’re making them sound intelligent. They’re not, you know. They’re just animals. Our computer system on Taurus was very thorough—no intelligent animal life.’

  ‘Is this the same computer that left you here?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Sarcasm?’

  He looked at her blankly.

  ‘Never mind.’ She turned back to the oven, and pumped more air. The fire in the oven flared and smoke filtered out of the top through a flume to disperse outside.

  Fly stood up and the stool creaked. ‘The honnards are scared of something, I can tell,’ he said. ‘Bo—’

  ‘Bo?’

  He flashed a sheepish grin. ‘In honour of Bodie.’

  She laughed. ‘I doubt he’d be honoured!’

  ‘Bo was very anxious for me to know where their new settlement is, and for the alphas to accept me. They call me Ji-ji. You’r
e Chi-Chi.’ Jenny had an impression that he wanted to tell her more, and waited but after a pause he said, ‘Was the one that chased you up the tree grey and hairy?’

  ‘Or course it was hairy,’ she said amused. ‘As for the colour, I didn’t pay much attention. But in hindsight, yes, it did have more grey than dark hair. But as I’d said…’ smelling burning she turned back to the oven and opened the door. A wave of heat billowed out, and Jenny took out a sizzling pan of vegetables and meat. She placed it on top of the cooker, kicking the oven door closed. She wiped her hands on a cloth. ‘As I said before, I thought it wanted to eat me at the time, but with hindsight the honnard looked more scared than I.’

  ‘Scared?’

  She pointed to the stew. ‘It’s ready.’

  ‘I’ll go and change.’ Fly headed to the bathroom.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t come in all wet. You make the floor slippery. Why don’t you use the boat?’

  ‘In case you need it,’ he called from the bathroom. The room consisted of an unplumbed toilet (they had to dispose of their own waste), a sunken bath and a sink with hot water for most of the day. The generator was attached to a tree outside, and whirled loudly whenever it was used, and was whirring now as Fly cleaned up.

  She checked on the dough mixture that had been left to proof in the heat of the kitchen. It had doubled in size and so she rolled it onto a floured tray and slid it into the oven, then set about spooning the thick meaty stew into dishes.

  Fly came out dressed in fresh clothes, and was using a large cloth to rub at his long hair, which he tossed over his shoulder as Jenny handed him a dish of food.

  They ate in the lounge-come-bedroom where a fire burned in a grate, and sat on the old settee taken, and modified, from the space buggy. ‘So tell me, why “scared”?’ he asked.

  ‘Who’s scared?’

  ‘You said you thought the honnard was scared when it tried to shake you out of the tree.’

  ‘Yes, afterwards, when I climbed down, it seemed, I don’t know, reprimanded. Shamed.’