by Louise Wise
‘I was locked in the house, remember?’
Fly grunted.
‘I’m not sure whether to feel shocked that you were moved, or shocked over this revelation. Were the spear decorated with effigies of me?’
‘Red twine,’ Fly said, ‘but yes, it was meant to resemble your hair.’
‘Insane. Utterly insane.’ She lay again and nestled in his arm. He continued to stroke her hair.
The cow bayed again and the chimes jangled in the wind.
‘So this means we’re safe from them?’ she asked. ‘What about the native killings?’
‘I doubt we’ll ever get to the truth about that. But yes, I think we’re safe.’ He didn’t tell her about being mistaken for a honnard. He didn’t want to cause fear where there may be no need.
‘Good, because we’ve things to plan for.’
He frowned, puzzled, then she continued,
‘When do Jelvian women begin to feel the effects of the venom?’
His body stiffened at the change of subject. It felt like he’d been stabbed through the heart; for a moment he’d forgotten her pregnancy and the danger it brought. The cow bellowed loudly again and the wind rattled the windows, but Fly was quiet. His thoughts rushed away with him as he envisioned Jenny racked with pain and dying in his arms.
‘There was snow in that wind,’ she said. ‘Do we have enough food for the winter?’
‘Plenty. I’ll have to move the cattle to somewhere more sheltered. Last year, we lost too many.’
‘Well?’ she asked. ‘When do Jelvian women feel the effects?’
His hand came up to cup her hand where it lay against his chest. ‘Are you feeling ill?’
‘Oh no! Nothing like that!’ she was quick to reassure him. ‘I think I felt the baby move last night. It felt like tiny wings fluttering inside my belly.’
‘Moving?’
‘If it was moving, then that would make me at least four months pregnant. The months here differ from Earth, so it’s hard for me to gage, but at four months would the venom sac be formed?’
Fly opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. He felt an emotion bubble in his throat and burn. ‘If it was a boy it’d be formed and secured by four months,’ he said eventually. He rolled over her and kissed her mouth. ‘I guess,’ he said, close to her lips, ‘that determines the baby is a girl.’
The cow hollered again, more urgent and louder than before.
Jenny giggled, her relief was just as evident. ‘So no more talk of suicide?’
He shook his head. ‘No more. But you know what this means, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘We’ll have to lead a celibate life from now on. I can’t go through this again!’ Jenny laughed again, and he grinned at her. ‘You think I’m joking?’
The cow snorted.
‘Even the cow doesn’t believe you,’ she teased.
‘Am I such a bad liar?’ He rolled off her and walked naked to the window. He could see a cow standing in the water-filled trench and making no attempt at trying to free itself. It raised its huge head to bellow and white mist poured from its mouth. ‘It’s fallen in the trench,’ he said.
Jenny pulled the covers up over her head. ‘No rest for the wicked, and you’re definitely wicked.’
Fly stepped over her, reaching for his still-damp clothes. ‘I’ll sort the animals, and bring more wood for the fire.’
Jenny grunted beneath the covers.
‘Breakfast?’ All of a sudden, he was hungry, and he remembered he hadn’t eaten much last night. The mismatch of dried crunchy fruit and grain sprinkled on fried graddy leaves, which Jenny called “bacon and eggs” sounded ideal right now. He nudged her gently with his foot. ‘Breakfast?’
She mumbled something unintelligible, and smiling, Fly went into the short passageway. It was gusty outside. Winter was on its way. He began humming as he made his way towards the baying cow. It stood pathetically in the trench, unable or unwilling to help itself.
Fly smiled. His life was perfect.
Across the river, the trees rustled and a black and yellow feather fluttered from the branches of one and dropped to the floor.
A crouching honnard, yellow eyes intent on the tree, rose slowly. He raised his spear and launched it into the tree.
The baying cow continued its noise and any noise the honnard’s target may have made was lost.
Chapter Ten
Jenny pulled the thick fur around her shoulders and closed the edges over her swollen stomach. It’d been three months since she’d discovered she was pregnant and she had bloomed into pregnancy, her stomach swelling as Fly’s anxiety lessoned. It was good to see his restlessness ebb away. She hadn’t liked to see the worry on his face.
They were driving back from a visit to the warm caves, and snow had settled over the plain. It wasn’t snowing now, which, without windscreen wipers would have been a problem, and the icy wind whistled through the thick covering they used as a roof.
‘I think I’d like to give birth in the warm caves,’ Jenny said.
Fly was driving, and he gave her a glance. ‘And if we don’t get there in time?’
‘We’ll head there early. Live there for a while, maybe. I’ve been marking the days and I think I’ll be due early spring.’
‘And you wouldn’t mind giving birth so close to the honnards’ settlement?’
She looked at him startled, and he chuckled.
‘I never told you how close the warm caves were to them in case it put you off going. I know how much you love the caves.’
‘How close?’
Fly turned the buggy so it was facing back the way they’d come, slowed then stopped. ‘Follow the line of rocks from our warm caves,’ he said pointing. ‘Our caves are low but see how it gets higher? It’s obscured by trees but the settlement is in that direction. Want to see it closer?’
‘No!’
‘You need to stop this fear you have of them. It’s irrational,’ he said.
‘You’re calling me irrational? There’s a joke in that somewhere.’
He laughed and started up the buggy again. He spun the wheel so the caves and their craggy range was behind them.
‘Once the baby is born the honnards might have a mini effigy for it,’ he said.
‘Your stand-up comedy is poor.’
‘Just saying.’
She flashed him a smile, as she always did when he mimicked her English and he grinned at her.
‘Hey, look,’ he said.
At first, she didn’t see the honnard walking along the edge of the forest. It was shorter than Fly but stout and strong. From the back, its stance was human albeit covered with hair. It was carrying a decorated spear and walking along as though it ruled the planet.
‘You need to know the difference between a honnard and an ordinary native wolf.’
‘One walks on two legs, the other four,’ she said.
‘The native wolf can walk on two legs for short periods. Jenny, you need to make friends with—’
‘No! Fly, I’m not interested.’
They sat in the buggy watching the oblivious honnard until Jenny said, ‘Can we go now? I’m cold.’
Fly glanced at her. ‘You mustn’t be afraid of them.’
Jenny stared at him, knowing he was about to do something she’d disagree with. She wasn’t wrong.
Fly opened the door of the buggy and stepped out into the snow, saying, ‘Bargi.’
Jenny sunk down in her seat as the honnard stopped and looked over its shoulder.
The animal was salt and pepper grey, its yellow eyes somehow wise in its flat, hairy face. Jenny eyed it with mistrust and pulled the fur up around her ears.
‘If I go into premature labour because of that thing, you’ll be sorry,’ she muttered as it changed its direction and ambled over, its gait rolling from side to side.
‘He’s harmless,’ Fly said.
‘He? You gave it a gender?’
‘Chuff-chuff
, Chi-Chi,’ the honnard was babbling as it approached. The small yellow eyes were fixed on her and she sunk lower. The beast gave a wide, teeth-together, grimace. She must have made a noise, because Fly ducked down to peer at her inside the car. He gave her a reassuring smile.
‘Think of it as a primitive man,’ he said.
‘Looks nothing like a man.’
Fly turned to the animal, and Jenny noticed how Fly was touching the seashell necklace around his neck as if it was a key to the creature’s affections.
She watched as they greeted one another, both repelled and impressed at Fly’s apparent hold over it.
The native wolves treated him like he was their god. Fly was able to kill them using his venom and so, in their eyes, she supposed, he was a god. Then the native’s yellow eyes fell onto her again and it grinned another mouthful of mottled teeth. Jenny shrank further into her seat.
‘Fly,’ she hissed through his open door.
‘They won’t hurt you. They believe your hair has magical powers. Look at its staff.’
Jenny peered over the fur she was clutching against her face. The honnard, still “grinning”, was holding a spear with the tip pointing downward. The instrument was engraved and decorated with coloured swirls, but it was the top of the spear that drew Jenny’s attention. Her hair.
Fly held out his hand to her. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Get out of the buggy.’
‘Chuff-chuff,’ the honnard seemed to agree. Then I can eat you. Her thoughts turned its “chuff-chuffs” into words.
‘You’re kidding me?’ she said, glaring at Fly.
He came around to her side and opened her door. He knelt down. He looked up at her and his dark eyes glistened. ‘I can’t ever envision it, but we may need them one day and I want you to get over this fear you have of them.’
Jenny stared at him, seeing no humour on his face. No teasing or amusement, just sincerity.
He stood up and held out his hand again. ‘Come on, Jenny.’
Clutching the fur around her shoulders, she stepped out into the snow, and with Fly’s arm protectively about her shoulders she was walked towards the honnard. Its long nose quivered as she approached. She stopped a metre before it and refused to go any further.
‘Chi-Chi,’ the creature said.
‘Chi-Chi,’ Fly answered. His other hand came to rest on her stomach and Jenny watched as the honnard followed the movement. Whether it understood or not she didn’t know, but it threw up its head and howled.
Jenny broke from Fly’s grip and ran back to the buggy, pulling the door shut after her. The honnard howled again and shook its spear at the sky.
Fly turned from it and climbed back in the buggy. He closed the door and started the engine.
‘That went well,’ he said
Jenny glared at him.
‘The howling is celebration. It was celebrating meeting you,’ he explained but his mouth was twitching in his struggle to hold in laughter.
She muttered something, and watched as the honnard turned from them and ambled away making strange noises from the back of its throat. Its spear lashed at any plants in its way. It turned towards them just before a thicket of snow-topped trees. It shook its brightly coloured spear saying, ‘Chuff, huff, chuff-chuff.’ And then it turned and became lost from their sight in the trees.
She closed the fur around her shoulders. ‘What does “chuff” mean? And “bargi”. You said “bargi” to it.’
‘I think “bargi” is a greeting, the rest I don’t know. They have words but I can’t decipher them. The “chuffs” seem like a chant.’ Fly set the buggy into motion.
‘Nothing to do with trains then?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Bad joke. Was that “Bo”?’ she asked.
‘The very one. Any resemblance?’
She chuckled. ‘The wolf had the same greying hair.’
‘I think that’s the one who tried to shake you from the tree. He probably thought you were in danger.’
‘In danger from an elecat?’ she said scornfully. ‘Not very bright, are they!’
‘They are very intelligent. You must learn to trust them and stop seeing them as wolves.’ He spoke the last word in English. ‘They are primitive people. And they have accepted us as part of their tribe.’
Jenny snorted.
‘They are evolving before our eyes.’
‘They always seem so, er, howly.’
‘They are placid. More so than I thought. They take care of their weak and young. Bo is the one who was responsible for moving his group into this other camp.’
They drove down a well-worn path through the dank jungle. In the snow, sound was muted and the once familiar surroundings seemed alien. Jenny liked the winter. They worked hard all year to make sure they had enough food, fuel and clothes that, when winter came, they could relax and enjoy it. They ate well, played silly games in the snow, swam in the warm caves and made love in front of their roaring fire. Life was good.
‘What’s for dinner tonight?’ he asked.
‘Curry,’ she said.
“Curry” was a meat and vegetable stew flavoured with home grown herbs. ‘With ice cream to follow.’
‘What’s that?’
Like Fly created names for the honnards, she made up names for the food she made. So far, Fly had eaten fish and chips, hamburgers, pancakes and bacon and eggs.
‘I made something out of the leftover cream and fruit we had and I froze it in the snow. Not sure how it’ll taste.’
Fly laughed, and he didn’t hear what Jenny heard. She hushed him, and cocked an ear. ‘Did you hear that?’ she said.
Fly pulled the buggy to a halt and turned off the engine. He listened. After a while he said, ‘What did you hear?’
‘Maybe I’m hearing things. I thought I heard wings.’
‘Wings?’
‘It sounded flappy.’
‘All the birds have migrated,’ he said and started the engine again. ‘You’re hearing the wind.’ As he spoke, wind roared through the fabric roof, lifting it and bringing a flurry of snow into the buggy.
She squealed and buried her head in the fur. ‘Need to get that fixed!’
‘Should’ve used the other buggy.’ The other was Bodie’s self-made vehicle and not very reliable, but it had a hard roof. ‘Nearly home now,’ he added.
‘Maybe giving birth in the caves isn’t such a good idea.’
‘I’ll fill the bath with hot water and get the bathroom all steamy for you,’ he said.
She beamed at him. ‘You’d do that?’
‘Of course.’
That night Jenny dreamed of a black cloud that edged in between her and Fly. She woke with a jolt as Fly, in her dream, held a small wriggling figure aloft in his hands—their baby—and when the cloud passed over them, both Fly and the baby were gone.
She lay listening to her pounding heart. The baby in her womb kicked out, and she covered the tiny limb with her hand.
Chapter Eleven
Jenny walked along the beach. The sea, crackling with ice, rolled in and out again. The worse of the winter was behind them and the sea was once more moving. Fly was out in the boat; she could see him casting a net to catch fish.
She was nervous when he went out on the ocean. The land animals were bizarre enough, so she couldn’t even begin to imagine what the sea life was like. She waited until he was wading back towards the shore, pulling the boat behind him. She admired his half-naked body as he splashed through the water. He wore cut-off trousers—rags really, and nothing else. He had no idea how sexy he looked at that moment as he strode towards the shore, his long black hair dripping wet, and pulling the boat behind him.
His hands were the size of shovels, his arms thick, and his shoulders broad. He was tall. She wasn’t sure of his height, but Matt boasted that he was over six foot and Fly was a lot taller.
He pulled the boat far up on the beach, and from it, turned to lift a net of wriggling fish. After eating nothing but
their stored food for months, fresh fish was a luxury.
‘I’m going to pick some graddy leaves,’ she called.
‘Got the gun?’
She patted her waistband beneath her bulging belly. ‘Of course.’
Fly nodded. He lifted the net over his shoulder and strode towards the cave-like walk-through towards their home as Jenny began to walk along the sand, one hand on her swollen stomach the other swinging lightly by her side.
She’d been counting off the days and she thought she was about eight months pregnant. The baby was moving and although she kept her fears to herself she was nervous about the birth.
The graddy trees grew on the cliff top close to the beach. Fly had erected a rope ladder to help them up and down, although the rock face was almost step-like with its protruding rocks and thick vine, but lately she found she needed the rope ladder.
She reached the ladder and began to climb, but less than halfway up she felt crumbling stone, and small rocks tumbled over the edge. Erosion was something she and Fly had to be careful of, and they’d staked suitable parts for climbing along this rock face, and usually this part of the wall was stable.
Jenny pulled herself against the rock face, as flat as her belly would allow, and waited for the debris to fall past her. When it had, she began to climb again, but a shadow from above fell over her and the debris rained again. She pulled herself against the wall of the cliff and waited, when it was clear, she peered upward and noticed the familiar face of Bo.
His mouth was open, his strange teeth exposed and parted. It was a sign of aggression.
‘Shit,’ she said, and began to lower herself down. On the ground, she looked up. ‘What’s the matter with you? You do have a problem with me despite what Fly says, don’t you?’
He stood upright, and slapped his huge chest with his hand-like paws and bellowed in his own language. He bent and picked up a rock. Jenny didn’t wait to see what he wanted to do with it, she turned and began to run towards the sea—far away from his aim and turned to look around at the clifftop. Bo had gone from view, but the crumbling edge told of his presence. Jenny was tempted to go back and try to climb again, but decided against it. She may have done had she not been pregnant; but it was too risky. They couldn’t take risks here. They’d just have to eat their fish plain.
