by Amanda Milo
Traveling to matches on my own got lonely, and except for brief hugs with my mother or my sister, my physical interaction with females was zero. This was such a small thing, really, but my entire being was soaking up every exhale of condensation as if it were treasure.
I shook myself - internally, so as not to disturb her. I needed to concentrate on planning. Under the cover of full dark, I hoped I’d be able to move around without notice. The auction workers would have to give up an active search soon, thinking that I’d do the smart thing and get the infernofire off of this rock before I was caught. But every time they spotted me, the hunt was on again.
We needed to find a way to get away from here and fast.
At full dark, I woke my little companion. She came to her feet groggy and with her stomach grumbling loudly. I cringed, not enjoying the sound any better now than I had for the last hour she had fitfully tried to rest on an empty belly. I brushed the hay off of her and was ridiculously satisfied when she didn’t shy away from my touch. I was not nearly as gentle with myself and the sweet sound of her laugh rang out when I began to beat at my scales, pounding the chaff away.
I shot her a grin. She blushed.
“You’re moon-ringed enchanting,” I said quietly as I smoothed a knuckle across her cheekbone. I was careful to keep my thumbnail tucked to my palm, so that I didn’t stab her in the eye. How did hobs manage? She was such a delicate little creature. So much more captivating than I ever thought a Gryfala could be. And so very, very soft. Silky.
I realized I’d been staring rudely when her gaze nervously skittered away from mine. I took a step back.
She didn’t try to reprimand me.
I waited, uncertain. When she met my gaze again though, she just looked confused. And maybe shy.
How curious. She wasn’t living up to her kind’s reputation much at all.
I tried to ignore how much I liked that.
I took her hand and led her outside.
We kept to the outskirts, and I bought sustenance from the first vendor we found with food. Not sure what she liked, I bought a few items from the menu and instead of taking a table in the common area, I led her to the shadows and sat facing the foot traffic, yet out of passerby sight. She nibbled hesitantly on everything, but seemed enthusiastic for nothing. I wished for the hundredth time today that we could talk to each other. What she didn’t finish, I consumed without haste, and then we picked up our circuit as I made my way back to our kind peddler woman. It occurred to me as we rested that perhaps she could take us to her next stop.
Unfortunately... she’d pulled up stakes and had already left. I tugged on my ear in frustration and the Gryfala stared like she hadn’t noticed that I even had ears before this. I relaxed them so that they extended forward a little and when I leaned down so she could get a better look, she tentatively petted the length of one.
“Quuut.”
Whatever that meant. I felt one side of my mouth lift a fraction. From her tone, I could tell she was admiring them. She was sweet.
After that, when we were noticed, no one bothered us and better; no one reported us. Yet. But the attention we were attracting kept me uneasy.
The princess was tiring quickly. And her night vision seemed to be nearly nonexistent. Every so often, she’d stumble over a root or a pothole in the road and only her grasp on my arm kept her upright. I still hadn’t come up with any great plan, and I was beyond frustrated. I stopped with the intention of miming to her that I would politely need to insist on carrying her - an action that seemed to make her uncomfortable if it went on for more than a few miles, but one which I didn’t mind – not in the least - when she waved to something behind me. I turned.
It was a small Yaldounish child. It cheekily waved back and in a voice so much teveking louder than necessary it yelled, “Princess! Over here!”
I tamped down my irritation though when it bowed to the lady and offered her a yuk-yuk fruit. With innate grace, she took it, murmuring something in a kind, gracious tone. Then she shot me a look before lifting her shoulders and sniffing it. When she made no further move, I plucked it from her fingers, bit through the hard husk, and used my thumbs to pry it open. I handed it back to her. She brought it to her face, and did her best to examine it in the soft perimeter light of the wagon we stood next to. Her little tongue darted out to lap at the fruit juice. Her face ridges rose. “Lyekeh sehweet cornh! Wow, tank-ew!”
She tried to hand me the other half, but I pushed it back to her. “You eat.” I knew she hadn’t consumed much of the food from earlier. The Yaldounish ran off. But he returned quickly, and this time, he brought three others with him, one much younger, the other two not much older than himself. They hooted and bowed and I looked around before hissing sharply, “Have a care – quiet.” The children subdued immediately, almost shrinking from us.
The princess gave me a reproachful glare.
“Please.” I added through my teeth to the Yaldounish bunch. They calmed a little. But not much. They converged on her – not caring about the stickiness on her hands from the yuk-yuk, they all but dragged her, winding us through wagons and vendor tents. She kept looking back to check that I was following, and I felt my lips quirk involuntarily at her half-alarmed, half-bemused expression. We stopped at a big green wagon, where a Yaldounish man was rolling up a length of canvas. When he saw a princess being dragged into his camp, he looked like he was about to fall over. A woman joined him, and they both simply… gaped.
The woman snapped out of her shocked state first. “Creator be!” She bobbed into a curtsy. Her husband recovered then, and peeled off his cap, keeping it fisted to his chest. “We heard there were kidnapped Gryfala auctioned yesterday, but we dismissed it as rumors.”
“I haven’t seen any of the others,” I said, making the woman jump as she noticed me. I stepped into the lamplight circling their wagon so she could see me better. “But I saved this one from the Krotruvians who bought her. She hasn’t had an easy time of it. She doesn’t speak any language that I recognize.”
The woman covered her mouth with her hands.
“It looks like you are getting ready to leave.” I started.
The man spoke up. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a Rakhii.” He smiled kindly. “So that old saying really is true. If you find a Rakhii, just wait, and you can catch a glimpse of the princess he’s guarding.”
He looked back at the princess then in wonder. “Incredible. She’s not overweening and proud like you’d expec-” He cleared his throat sharply and turned back to me. “That was rude, I apologize. We are leaving. And…” he eyed me, his lower teeth jutting out in consideration. “We’ve just enough room to stow away two passengers if you don’t get us caught.”
“I have every intention of laying low and getting her home safely.” I assured him.
He stuck out his fingers for a tap. “Then welcome to our wagon.”
I kept watch in the shadows while the Gryfala played with their little ones quietly. The Yaldounish couple packed their camp up efficiently, and seemed grateful to have their children kept thoroughly occupied. As she smiled and let them count her fingers and crawl onto her lap, it was easy to see that her maternal instincts were already strong. She would make a good brooder for her band of hobs someday.
The thought made my hearts ache strangely.
I rubbed my chest and turned to the man. “Your lodgings are ready,” he said grandly, and pointed to the back set of stairs. As I helped her stand and brush off sand, he inclined his head and added, “Thank you for keeping the children occupied.” He bowed, this time much more naturally. Genuine.
She nodded back to him and dazzled him with a brilliant smile. I shook myself. Dazzled me too.
I helped her up the steps, and even without words, I could tell how grateful she was to have somewhere to rest.
A space had been cleared for us, but there was nothing to sleep on. I didn’t imagine the family had much in the way of pillows or blankets to spare
.
Her hobs would have no trouble in this situation. I snorted at the irrational sense of bitterness. Rakhii anatomy posed a slight difficulty, but traveling around to different match locales meant that I had plenty of experience in making do when accommodations weren’t necessarily Rakhii friendly. I let my satchel thunk to the floor, and I dropped down next to it. I rolled to my back just like a hob would – then I used the satchel to prop up my neck so that my horns weren’t keeping me entirely jammed upright. I raised an arm to the Gryfala, inviting her. Exhausted, she began to lower herself at my side instead.
On the cold, hard floor? “No, you’re not,” I ordered as I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her on top of me, ignoring her squeak. I grimaced, thinking that I’d been giving out a lot of orders to a princess. If she was keeping a mental tally of the lashings I was earning for my impudence, then my back was going to be in shreds when we made it home.
“Settle,” I murmured, and stroked my fingers through her mane, working out the tangles.
She gave a great sigh. And went still.
The floor was unyielding under me, and the pressure created from my horns against my skull would grow tiresome, but this I would survive. The feeling of her body on top of mine was indescribable. Never had I imagined how… satisfying this would feel. I would have laid back on a bed of poisoned spines to have her stretch over me like this. The rocking motion of the wagon was soothing – if a little jarring when we hit a stray rock - and soon, she was sound asleep on my chest. Her scent, somehow sweeter than yesterday despite our day of travel - filled my nostrils, and… it was the oddest sensation, like the most pleasant burn imaginable every inhale. She didn’t weigh enough to even begin to compress my lungs so it didn’t make sense.
But there it was all the same.
I pet her crownfur, running my fingers through the long strands. Her mane was glorious. Thick and shiny and so soft. Her breath feathered against my chest scales making me shiver slightly. Too good. I couldn’t move her though. She needed sleep. My sore, gritty eyes told me I did too. I should keep watch, but I was exhausted. And if not here, where would it be safe for me to recharge? I listened and watched for a few more miles, but all was serene – just a wagon plodding its nomadic course, no danger befalling us along the road so far. I prayed for safety and let my eyes drift closed.
I woke to an inquisitive touch tracing a pattern over my abdomen. Then back up, brushing over my pectorals, picking at the edges of my scales with her blunted nails, exploring the thick plates that protected my throat - yet were still incredibly sensitive - and apparently, were as starved for touch as the rest of my skin.
My body was on fire.
I felt jittery and off. And hot.
What was the matter with me?
When I felt her breath against my cheek, I opened my eyes and grabbed her exploring hands to still them. She startled backward but I held her so she wouldn’t fall off my lap.
She gave me a sheepish smile.
She was so beautiful. I leaned forward and nuzzled her nose with the bridge of mine. Our eyes locked, held. I searched, but found no hint that she’d been anything but naturally curious with her touch.
I let her hands go and she dropped them to my abdomen and scooted her body further from my face. She propelled back by wriggling her behind.
Right over my crotch.
My body jackknifed as if I’d been electrocuted. My hands were suddenly gripping her hips, and I don’t know how they got there. I would swear to the high courts that I made no conscious thought. I couldn’t. All the blood in my body had fled with the crashing speed and gravity of a waterfall, and all of it pooled at my groin. My cock was trapped and simultaneously unhappy and hopeful. My instincts were going wild as I stared at her. She was stunning, and for the moment – all mine. Mine?
Mine!
She shifted position and tevek, my teeth squeaked as I ground my jaws together. My hips flexed upward by instinct, and she pitched forward with a startled gasp, her palms slapping on my chest and I groaned. I had the tiny, tiniest thought that she looked alarmed. But when I brought my hand to the back of her head to pet her hair and grasp her neck, her eyes turned soft and she smiled. And her smile charmed the thoughts right out of my brain.
I rubbed her thigh to soothe myself. She returned the affection by scritching her nails against my chest.
Instinctively my head dropped back, which caused my horns to hit hard against the floor. The noise made her jump.
My hand moved to her neck again, and I applied enough pressure to bring her closer to my mouth. Not demanding – no, never. Merely suggesting. Begging. Closer.
The wagon ground to a halt.
The voices of impressionable younglings rang through the canvas panel that separated their living space from the cargo area we were stowed away in.
The canvas was flung aside as the Yaldounish mother walked in with a bowl of stew.
Her gasp had my horns changing color. What was I doing? With downcast eyes I removed my hand from the thigh that I had no right to touch, let go of the sweet smelling neck that I should not have been cupping, and slid the princess – a princess – off of my lap, and withdrew the bowl from the wife’s frozen hands.
Just that little distance had my temperature cooling. And… I swallowed experimentally. Something about my-
“Without her hobs! And at her age? She doesn’t even have wings yet! And after all she must have suffered at an auction!” The woman was sputtering and with each point, I felt as if I should be shrinking with the shame.
My attempt to thank her for the food was rebuffed when the woman made a disgusted noise before whirling away.
She was right. Hobs should be here. I shouldn’t be alone with a Gryfala this way. I never thought I’d have reason - let alone the opportunity - to even worry about such a possibility ever, ever occurring, but it was obvious that I couldn’t be trusted.
The thought made my head pound. I needed to be trustworthy. I could be. I was.
When the canvas snapped back in place, Angie gave me a wide eyed, bright-cheeked look. Carefully, I tore a piece of the bread that was sopping up the blue gravy juice and held it out for her. She didn’t move. I sighed. “Come on, princess. You have to eat.” When she covered her cheeks with her hands - it made her look so... innocent. Creator, she looked so young.
Perhaps she was feeling scandalized.
Of course she was.
What had come over me?
How I’d reacted… what if she really was just a fledgling?
What a deeply disturbing thought.
And I desperately hoped that wasn’t the case. I took her hands gently.
Slowly, I leaned in and nuzzled her cheekbone. “I’m sorry.”
I let my neck relax so that my forehead met hers.
Thunk.
“Owwch,” she said and I cursed – not because I was hurt, I wasn’t - but because I’d hurt her.
I pulled back and she cradled her head in her hands. After a moment, I grasped her little chin in my palm and tilted her head so I could look. I rubbed a thumb over her forehead. “Tevek! No wonder Gryfala are so reserved around Rakhii! I forgot your kind aren’t like mine; you don’t have a browplate.”
She tapped the back of her knuckle above my brow, a tiny thwack. Then she shook out her fingers. I brought them to my mouth and kissed them.
She froze, staring.
I dropped her hand to her lap and cleared my throat. “Now that we’ve let the food get cold as a vetcher’s backside, let’s get you fed.” Despite the temperature, she ate readily from my hand and seemed to enjoy it best out of all the food I had fed her so far. I wondered if I could entice the Yaldounish wife to fill up one of my canteens with stew. I could buy a freeze stick from a food vendor and that would keep it for a day or more. By then, I hoped we’d have transport off this rock. She could be indulging in the delights of a Gryfala feast table in a mere rotation.
With her hobs.
My
knuckles cracked, and I shook out the fist I’d unconsciously made.
The feelings I was having for this female were growing alarmingly… possessive.
Forbidden!
I bit back a growl. This was only temporary! I knew the moment I had seen her that she would have a service of hobs – either her cadre of sires to protect her, or a set of guards that served her. Or the set that she was amassing for the day she came of age if she really were still young.
I shook out my ears at the thought. I just needed to keep her safe until I could get her home. That was all. Home.
Home to all her loving, doting, ostentatious hobs. Venom burned the back of my throat and I swallowed hard.
When she was full, I cleaned the remains from the bowl. With no shame, I dragged my tongue along the insides, capturing every last bit of meat juice. The Gryfala watched me in fascination, making me feel a little self-conscious.
“Rakhii normally have excellent manners,” I assured her. “But,” I used the spoon to point, “I have the impression that our good woman is not going to break her back feeding me any extra after she found me, um,” corrupting you - alone - just a few feet away from her brood of little ones. “So!” I set the bowl near the flap. “I figure I’d better get all that I can.”
She smiled at me grimly, making me think she understood the situation just fine from my tone.
I stood, then grasped her by the elbows to help her rise. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got to pi–“ I thought better of using such a course word. No, she couldn’t understand me anyway, but it was the principle of the thing. “-relieve myself.”
I heard the Yaldounish family telling their little ones to use the bush. This was our chance to find a bush too. We clambered down the stairs in the back, where the Yaldounish wife handed a generous amount of softcloth to my--
No! I could not afford to think of her as mine.
The wife handed a generous amount of softcloth to the Gryfala.
To me, she turned a stony look and a meager strip. “Thank you.” I said. And I meant it. Truthfully, I couldn’t fault her for her disapproval.
