Quinn paused while folding the longer strip of fabric, amused by the thought of anything running away from her in fear. “Somehow, I doubt that.” She wrapped the cloth around her waist and tied it at her hip. Her new skirt hung midway down her thighs, allowing her more mobility that it had previously.
“You will succeed. For the survival of our tribe.”
“No pressure, right?” She smirked, lifted the other portion of trimmed fabric, and flattened it over her chest. “Could you tie this for me?” Offering the ends, she turned her back toward Orishok, glancing at him over her shoulder.
He faced her, and his hands — any trace of the impossibly sharp blade gone — brushed lightly against hers as he took the ends of the strip. A tingle shivered through her at that brief touch, and she quickly looked away. She crossed her arms in an effort to hide her budding nipples.
“Is this too tight?” he asked as he pulled the cloth taut around her.
“Nope. Tight is good. Don’t need this falling down while chasing beasts, right?”
When he said nothing, Quinn looked back at him and arched a brow.
“If it would cause trouble, why wear it?” From a human, she’d take it as an attempt to get her shirt off, but Orishok’s curiosity was earnest. She swayed slightly as he tied the cloth strip in place.
“Well, because where I come from, women wear coverings,” she said, turning to face him. “We don’t walk around topless.”
“The females of my tribe only covered themselves in the winter, when the males did the same.” He paused. “Is urth a cold place? Is that why?”
“We had winters, too, but that wasn’t why. We were just raised that way. There are some human tribes on Earth where the women didn’t wear coverings like your people.” She brushed her fingers over the fabric on her chest. “Where I lived, women are more comfortable clothed.”
“Your people are strange, Quinn.”
She flashed him a grin. “Not strange, just different.”
Orishok seemed to consider her words for a few moments. Finally, he shook his head. “No. Strange. Are you ready?”
“Not doing yourself any favors, Orishok,” she said, grabbing her shoes and pulling them on. “I’m ready. Do I get a spear?”
“Do you know how to use one?”
“Um, I poke with the pointy end?”
He frowned. “Come, Quinn.”
Quinn stared at him as he walked, eyes dipping down over his body. How many times had he said that without her thinking anything of it? Now, with the way her body was reacting to him, those words sent images through her mind she couldn’t ignore. She shifted her legs, squeezing her thighs together to ease her sudden ache. Yeah. Hunting would be good. It would take her mind off sex for a little while, at least.
He led her outside and through the now-familiar streets. She waited near one of the dead valos, studying its face, while he went into the factory. She could almost imagine what the being had looked like in life.
Orishok emerged a few minutes later with a large, folded swath of unfamiliar, shimmery cloth.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“It does not let water through,” he replied, “and is very strong.”
“Okay...and what does that have to do with hunting?”
“Do you wish to carry raw meat in your hands when we return?”
She wrinkled her nose. Orishok smiled and continued walking.
They next stopped at a long, low building closer to the city’s entrance. The inside was dark — there were no windows in this place — and she had only the light of Orishok’s eyes to guide her. They only went thirty or so feet in, passing broken-down, dust-covered furnishings, before he opened a storage chamber on one of the walls.
He removed a pair of long objects from within. She didn’t get a good look at them until he’d led her back into the street.
They were spears, each as tall as Orishok. Their heads — finely honed, foot-long obsidian shards — reminded her of Orishok’s finger-blade. The shafts appeared to be crafted of some sort of metal. Two spikes jutted to either side, perpendicular to the shaft, a few inches beneath the flared head of each spear.
Orishok held one out to her. She took it in both hands and hefted it. Though the weight of the head was clear, the spear was lighter than she would’ve guessed.
“Do not poke yourself with the pointy end, Quinn.” Carrying the other spear, Orishok followed the path out of Bahmet.
Quinn jogged ahead of him and turned around to walk backward. She grinned. “Did you just make a funny?”
“There is nothing funny about Quinn impaled on a spear.”
“Ah, so you were being serious.” She fell into step beside him as they walked along the clifftop path.
“Maybe it is best not to worry. You are too small to reach the point, anyway.”
“Really not gaining any brownie points.” Settling her spear over her shoulder, she hooked her arm over the shaft to anchor it in place. Light mist lingered all around in the crisp air.
“Is that...a different kind of tip for a spear?”
“Why would I be talking about a spear tip?” She stopped and turned to him.
Orishok stared at her blankly. “We were speaking of spears. You said brownie points.”
“You were talking about spears.”
His gaze lingered on her for a few more moments before he resumed walking. “Strange people,” he said lowly. “What is brownie points, then?”
Quinn followed him, eyes on the ground, occasionally kicking aside a loose rock. “It’s a saying. Like, if you’re trying to get on someone’s good side. Every time you say or do something nice, you get a brownie point, but if you say or do something bad, you lose points.”
“How can I lose something you have not yet given me?”
She looked up at his back and chuckled. “You don’t actually get anything. They are...well, they’re not real. You’re not supposed to take it literally.”
He was silent as they crossed the line from barren rock to vegetation. The dried, crumbling grass that marked his previous passages into the woods crunched under his feet. “You speak of big things — big ideas,” he finally said, “and I want to know what they are. But this is not the time for such words. You will tell me later what you mean?”
Quinn glanced around. Now that they were out here, she was suddenly nervous. This didn’t seem like such a wonderful plan anymore. “Right. Dangerous. Ask me what you want to know when we get back.”
They entered the forest and passed between the alien trees without further conversation. Quinn fell into place behind Orishok. Every so often, he’d slow to a stop, look up at the leaves for a few seconds, and alter his direction before continuing. Soon, they neared the edge of a small clearing. The brush that ringed it was high enough for him to crouch behind.
“I will wait here. You must remember your way back to this place, no matter how far you go.”
Quinn caught her lower lip between her teeth and stared out into the woods.
“You can feel the wind on your skin, yes?”
She nodded.
“Walk into the wind. So long as you do that, the beasts in your path will not scent me. Quinn?”
She looked at him. “Hmm?”
“You remember the story I told you of Yuroth and the rockfur?”
The warmth drained from Quinn’s face. “Yes.”
“Your story will not have such an end. Hold onto your fear, but do not let it control you. Do you know my words?”
Quinn swallowed hard and nodded.
“You are Quinn. You are ksani of Bahmet. This is your forest.”
“What is ksani?”
“Ask me when we get back.”
“That is so not cool.” She smiled, though the expression was strained. “Okay. I guess I’ll be right back.”
“Be aware,” he said, gesturing first to his eyes and then to his ear.
She walked into the faint breeze, hold the spear in a death-gr
ip in front of her. As she crossed the clearing and entered the trees again, she strained to hear any sign of nearby wildlife; the forest was alive with a million little sounds. Rustling leaves, creaking wood, sighing wind, the distant chittering of alien creatures that she could only hope wouldn’t want to eat her. It was either blind luck or divine intervention that had kept her safe while she lay, unconscious, on the forest floor the night of the crash.
It made perfect sense for her to be going out here looking for something to attack her.
“God, this is such a bad idea,” she muttered.
Her life back on Earth hadn’t been anything like this. She’d life in a city, in a nice little apartment. If she needed food, she just had to order, and it’d be delivered directly to her door; fresh produce and meat, ready to cook. There’d never been a single reason to grab a spear and endanger her life for the chance at a bite to eat.
Quinn had never been financially well-off by any means, but she’d never realized just how easy things had been until now.
A branch overhead creaked. She jumped and swung her gaze up. Her heart thumped as she searched the trees, but she didn’t see anything. The memory of the monster by the stream — the treeclaw — would remain with her for the rest of her life, and Orishok said they lived in the trees. She be happy never seeing one again, and doubted she could bring herself to eat one, no matter how hungry she was.
She continued forward, and before long she was making clicking sounds with her tongue, as though that would lure something out.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she called in a soft, singsong voice.
Something chirped. Quinn turned her head and spotted a tiny creature perched on a root at the base of a nearby tree. It reminded her of a rabbit, though it didn’t have long ears. Its chubby body was covered in dark fur, and it stared at her with curious, owl-like eyes. The creature cocked its head and scratched its short ear with a long hind foot.
Quinn raised her spear and advanced slowly. If she killed this little animal, it would mean meat for dinner and proof for Orishok that she wasn’t entirely helpless out here. Not being used as human bait would be pretty nice, too.
The creature watched her approach, blinking its large eyes and tilting its head in the other direction. It chirped again. Suddenly, it stiffened, stretching a surprisingly long neck from its pudgy body. Then it darted beneath the roots and out of sight.
“Damn!”
Something snorted behind Quinn.
Something big.
Quinn’s eyes widened and her heart thundered. With shallow breaths, she slowly turned.
How the hell did I not hear that thing coming?
The beast was huge, nearly as tall as Orishok and twice as long. Its shoulders were massive, leading directly into a long, wedge-shaped head — skipping the neck entirely. It sniffed at the ground, head down, but the yellowed, cracked tusks and horns protruding from its skull and mouth were prominent. Its thick, mottled fur was crisscrossed with scars.
This was a rockfur; part boar, part rhino, and scary as all fuck.
Quinn backed away. Fear constricted her throat, making it hard to breath. The rockfur stood between her and Orishok, blocking her path back. All she could think of was that woman from his story. If there was any truth to the tale, Yuroth had faced down a rockfur much bigger than this.
“I can do this,” she mouthed, keeping her eyes on the beast as she continued placing distance between them. Because if she didn’t, she was dead.
The rockfur snuffled and lifted its head suddenly, snapping it around to look at Quinn with a beady black eye. It let out a call that turned her blood turned to ice — half pig squeal and half lion’s roar — and charged. Clods of dirt and vegetation flew in its wake.
Quinn gripped her spear with clammy palms and ignored the sinking, twisting feeling in her guts, ignored the instinct to run. The ground rumbled beneath her feet. She’d never played sports in school, had never been particularly athletic, and had never killed anything bigger than a fly until Brock murdered her sister. But none of that could matter now. She couldn’t allow it to matter.
She was ksani of Bahmet, whatever the hell that meant. And she’d live so Orishok could tell her.
Clenching her teeth, she bent her legs and leapt aside at the last possible moment. The rockfur’s momentum was too great; it slid on the ground and crashed into the nearby tree. With a cry, she rammed her spear into its neck.
Without waiting to see what damage she might have caused, she ran. It snorted and roared again. Arms and legs pumping, fueled by pure terror and adrenaline, she prayed the rockfur had been delayed enough for her to make it back to the clearing.
“Orishok!”
THE ROCKFUR’S ROAR echoed between the trees and across the clearing; the beast was far too close, and it was in Quinn’s direction. Wood snapped. Either a large branch had fallen, or an entire tree.
Orishok jumped up and raced across the clearing, spear in hand.
Another call from the rockfur, this time followed by Quinn desperately shouting Orishok’s name. That meant there was hope; it hadn’t caught her.
Yet.
He plowed through the brush on the far side of the clearing and looked in the direction of the noise — snapping branches, trampled ground, the snorting, panting breath of the massive beast. Quinn ran in front of it, her small lead rapidly dwindling.
“Orishok!” Her voice was higher and more desperate than he’d ever heard it. She darted suddenly aside, cutting around a large tree. Her foot caught on a root.
Quinn hit the ground hard, grunting. Orishok’s heartstone went cold.
The rockfur slid, its stumpy legs scrabbling for purchase on the vegetation-blanketed ground. Its hindquarters slammed into a tree trunk. Bark cracked. It dug its front legs into the ground, dragging its bulk forward again.
Quinn shoved herself up, stumbled forward a few steps, and ran between two more trees. She met Orishok’s gaze as he finally drew near. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, wanted to say something to ease her fears, wanted to take her in his arms until her heart slowed and she was calm.
“Stay back, Quinn,” was all he allowed himself to say.
Pale-faced save for the splotches of red on her cheeks, she nodded and hurried away.
Orishok placed himself between Quinn and the rockfur. The beast had found its feet again, and was charging, its small black eyes glittering with fury. It had scented a trespasser in its territory, and wouldn’t stop until the trespasser was driven away or destroyed.
In the moment before impact, Orishok noticed the spear haft jutting from the rockfur’s neck. He smiled. Quinn had done well; she would have made the tribe proud as one of the hunters.
Raising his spear overhead, he thrust down as the rockfur slammed into him. The head of the spear plunged through the beast’s thick hide near the shoulder. The rockfur’s momentum buried the head deep.
Orishok’s feet left the ground. A dull, distant sensation pulsed across the surface of his skin; it was pain, or at least as close as he could feel to it. He wrapped an arm around the beast’s head, grabbing onto one of its many long teeth to anchor his hold, and shaped his other hand into a blade. He slammed the point into the rockfur’s neck repeatedly.
The beast squealed and thrashed its head, but Orishok held tight. He stabbed down, hot blood splattering his arm, and threw back his entire weight. The rockfur was pulled off-balance. Its bony snout hit the ground and halted its forward charge, flipping its bulk over.
As it thrashed on its back, kicking its legs and shaking its head, Orishok rolled to its neck and jabbed his arm-blade into its exposed throat. He extended the point until it burst through the other side and into the ground.
With a final, ground-shaking spasm, the rockfur stilled.
Orishok stood and reverted his hand to its normal shape. “Quinn?”
“I’m here,” she called from behind.
He turned to her, sweeping his gaze over her she app
roached. “You are okay?”
She dragged her eyes away from the dead beast. They widened. “Oh my god, you’re hurt!” She rushed forward, closing the distance between them. Her hands hovered over his chest, but she didn’t touch him.
He looked down. There was a depression in the center of his chest, where the rockfur’s head had hit him. Cracks branched outward from it. The light of his heartstone seeped through the fissures, illuminating Quinn’s palms.
“This is all my fault.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“I am okay, Quinn.”
“You’re broken, and it’s my fault. If I hadn’t—”
“Hush, strange one,” Orishok said, and she obeyed despite his gentle tone. He willed the change over himself; beginning from their ends, the cracks closed and faded, and his chest pushed out into its normal shape.
Quinn sucked in a sharp breath, eyes darting to his for a moment. She reached out and placed her palm over his heartstone.
Her gesture summoned many old memories. He told himself she didn’t know what it meant, couldn’t know...that it didn’t mean the same to her that it did to him.
“You’re okay,” she said softly.
Orishok nodded. “Are you?”
“Yeah. Shaken, but okay.” She looked up at him.
“You did well, Quinn. You have honored our tribe.”
Her hand slipped from his chest and fell back to her side. He immediately missed the warmth and softness of her touch.
“Let’s not do that again anytime soon.” She smiled.
After wrapping his hands in strips of cloth, he showed her how to tend to the beast, rolling it onto its side and pulling free the spears. Quinn was eager to learn, though her expressions and the way her face changed color suggested she wasn’t happy with what she was learning. Despite her obvious discomfort, she helped without complaint. He showed her how to remove the hide, the limbs, and guts, which pieces offered the best meat, explained to her which parts could be used for various purposes. The work was awkward with the long-hafted spears, but the blades were sharp.
He taught her the words of respect and thanks to offer to the rockfur as they worked. She repeated them in his tongue, her pronunciation almost perfect.
Undying (Valos of Sonhadra Book 7) Page 11
