After supper, everyone bedded down early as the long trek took its toll. Quinn took the first watch, sitting just outside the cave entrance. Sasha lay in the dark by the fire, waiting, listening, armoring herself in courage. Take him, Naja had said. Make him your man. She breathed in and out, in and out. She was resolved. She was not afraid. She waited until she was certain that Toby and Naja were asleep. Then she sat up and unbuttoned her dress, pairing herself down to her chemise. It was cool, but not cold, giving her skin a delightful chill. She bound her braids up, gathering them off her neck, hoping it made her seem older, more sophisticated. She had swum earlier with Dotty and smelled like sea and sand and sun. She was still small and underdeveloped, but there was nothing she could do about that. She took a deep breath and stepped outside the cave.
Quinn was resting with his back to the entrance, his eyes steady on the distant seas. His face looked younger and smoother in profile. But the moment he sensed her, he turned and looked, and looked again. The familiar keenness of his lean, wise face made her heart flutter up near the root of her tongue.
“Sasha,” he said.
She didn’t answer him. She had resolved not to speak. If she started to talk, she would only babble herself into embarrassment. Instead, she dropped to one knee and wreathed her arms about his neck. His scent and warmth filled her senses. She angled her chin and kissed him, a long, slow and—she hoped—sensual kiss, remembering everything he had taught her in past kisses. She kissed him with her lips and tongue and all of her.
At first, she was uncertain, afraid. If he rejected her, she would feel like a fool. But he responded like there was a trigger in his heart. Less than a second after she’d drawn back to gauge his reaction, he took her and pushed her down into the sand so forcefully her breath was gone in a sharp gasp. Then he was atop her, kissing her mouth and chin and the line of her throat while his hands moved over her, touching her intimately through her chemise. He did not ask if she had thought this through, if she was even a sane woman, and for that she was grateful. She didn’t want to argue tonight. She did not want to mull over every uncertainty, every consequence. She had done that already, and had come to this conclusion. She wanted him. She had chosen him. She wanted to feel him close, closer, feel his hands and mouth on her, the delightful scratch of his beard, the sound of his breathing in her ear. She wanted to taste the wild, flowering sweetness of his lips and skin.
He palmed her cheek and kissed her nose. She kissed his face all over and ran her fingers over his wild, mussed ginger hair. She guided him, and he followed, and he gave, and he took, and all of it was soft and warm and sweet and thrilling, and it was nothing at all like the stories she had heard from the married women her age, the terrible tales of the first-times, the men who hurt them. She made the soft kitten noises he delighted in and Quinn laughed. He was gentle and silly, and he pressed his kisses to the side of her throat as they came together. There was no need to communicate; she knew exactly what to do as he brought her the gentlest of pleasures.
He seemed more than a little drunk, more than a little satisfied, when they finished and she lay quietly nestled in his arms, her frayed, half-braided hair lying in loops and whorls over them both. She ran her fingers down Quinn’s arm. He had the softest hair she had ever felt, and she rubbed her cheek against his arm like a cat. Her heart was thudding in her throat like she had run a mile. She had half expected to feel like an entirely different person, as if Sasha Strange the child should cease to exist with the advent of Sasha Strange the woman, but it wasn’t like that at all. She felt no different, only complete with him, safe and secure. She was surprised to learn the child and the woman could coexist inside of her skin like this.
Quinn took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, then the side of her neck. He liked her neck very much. She closed her eyes and listened to the roar of the sea only a few hundred feet away. Out on the plains, the night creatures lowed, and the darkness was alive with the sounds of a million prehistoric insects in flight. The busy, ceaseless noise had frightened her once; now it was commonplace, a comfort, a sound of things alive and living.
“Look,” she said, pointing toward the sea. Farther down the beach a number of huge turtle hatchlings were clambering out of a shallow nest and through the thick sand, making their way down to the ocean. “I believe those are archelons, prehistoric turtles.”
“Those are big turtles.”
She rolled over onto her belly in the sand and rested her chin on her folded hands to watch them. Quinn moved up beside her, keeping his arm around her protectively. “They’re just little ones,” she explained. “The adults are huge, as big as elephants. Imagine, one laid its eggs on this very beach and tonight the young are going to fight their way down to the sea.”
Quinn stared in wonder as the young hatchlings with their soft shells raced each other toward the water, the night tide lapping at them in welcome. “Will they attack, do you think?”
She glanced at him slyly. “Well, I don’t know. They might if they’re hungry enough. It’s best if we stay very still and very close, just in the event they do. We might have to stay like this all night.”
Quinn looked concerned, then saw her teasing smile. He rolled over and drew her up and over him so she was astride his hips, staring down into the dark seawater blue of his eyes, her hair tenting them in together. He cupped her cheek, kissed the bareness of her throat. “My Sasha, my clever little cat,” he said, looking up at her so fondly. He took the claw about her neck, using it to guide her mouth down to his for a slow and gentle kiss.
“Will you love me again?” she asked almost shyly when he had broken the kiss.
“I expect all this means the wedding is on again, yes?”
“Yes, Quinn,” she said with absolutely wisdom. No little Sasha. Only my Sasha. She smiled to herself in the dark. “It most certainly is.”
CHAPTER 14
After a week, they found no more evidence of She. It was almost a relief. It meant they could follow the inland sea once more. It meant that She might have given up and gone her own way.
They resumed their journey, and their lives began developing rhymes and patterns. Sasha was pleased about this. Where once they were strangers traveling across the face of an unknown world, bound together by a need for survival, now they were a community, almost a family. Toby and Naja were her best friends, and Quinn was her lover. A hundred times a day she had to stop and remind herself of that fact, it felt so strange.
Quinn must have spoken to Naja about new arrangements, because the day after Sasha had visited Quinn, Naja became their land hunter, often taking Toby with her to hunt small prey on the plains and leaving Sasha and Quinn to do the fishing amidst the shallow lagoons where they camped. She was not very good at first, but Quinn was a patient teacher, and she was very strong and fast from the work of living off the land. Soon she could spear even the fastest fish.
After all the fish was caught, Sasha would often swim in the shallows if she saw Dotty was on lookout nearby. Quinn would sit on the beach and watch her, always alert for signs of danger. At first, she thought he was being careful, or only self-conscious, until he sheepishly admitted that he couldn’t swim. Sasha couldn’t imagine it. He seemed good at everything else.
On that occasion, she swam up to him, dressed in only her chemise, and stood up, inviting him to join her. She knew the chemise was diaphanous when wet. On that day, she learned that Quinn’s desire for her was stronger than his fear of the water. He paired himself down to his trousers and stepped cautiously into the water until he was waist-deep. Sasha swam up to him. He tried to catch her, but she ducked away as quick as a seal, swam in a circle around him, and embraced him from behind. That seemed to both calm and excite him at once.
She ran her wet arms up and down his bare chest. She loved the warm, slender slickness of him, the heat and strength in his body, the way he yielded to even her smallest touch. “Aren’t you going to teach me anything?” he finally asked with m
ock irritation.
“I thought I was,” she said, leaning against his back and resting her head on his shoulder.
Dotty streaked by, splashing water at them with her flippers. “Sasha,” he stated with sudden alarm. “I really must insist you do something about your pet before it eats me.”
“Dotty doesn’t eat people, I told you,” she laughed, pulling him around so they were face to face. If anything, having Dotty nearby was a comfort; Dotty became very excitable when danger was near. Sasha gave Quinn her coyest look, the one he couldn’t resist. He leaned down to embrace her and she put her arms about his neck and yanked him under the surface with her for a watery kiss.
Several moments later, a very wet, very cross Quinn tromped back to shore, vowing never to go in the water again if she acted in such a despicable manner. Sasha followed, laughing. She pulled herself ashore beside him and lay on the sand, letting the sun dry her hair and chemise before she redressed. Quinn watched her, his anger withering in seconds. She laughed at his expression, the way he ranted at her, the way he tried to stay angry and failed horribly. When she felt he’d suffered enough, she opened her arms to him. He needed very little persuasion. His skin was warm and still wet from the sea as he pressed himself against her. She rubbed her cheek against his chest and held him close. “Sasha, you really are the most extraordinary girl,” he said. He held her, running his hands over her wet braids with exquisite care and tenderness.
She tried to kiss his neck—she liked his neck too—but he suddenly held her apart. He cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. “You know,” he said, “I still mean to return to Africa, assuming we ever make it home.”
Her heart stuttered and she felt her spirits wither as a thousand miserable things flew through her mind. She thought about him leaving, about being alone again. She wasn’t sure she could bear it. Then she saw his secret smirk, the way he was teasing her as she had teased him in the water. Turnabout was fair play, she expected.
“You will come with me?” he asked.
“Am I invited?”
“No, Sasha. I plan to return to the Continent sans my wife.” He gave her a droll look. “What do you think?”
She kissed him quick. “I think I shall like to see Africa with you, Quinn.” She kissed him again, deeper, slower. He moved to embrace her, but she broke the kiss and sat up. “Can we have an elephant?”
“An elephant? Yes, of course.”
“I shall like to meet bushmen as well.”
“Certainly.”
“And may I have a laboratory and a library? I should like to continue work on the Tuning Machine...more carefully, of course.”
He bit back a smile. “Anything you wish, my dear.”
She was in good spirits when they returned to camp. But Toby looked more miserable than ever, and Naja was less talkative than usual. Sasha wondered if they’d had a disagreement of some kind. After the supper cleanup, she followed Toby out onto the beach. He sat on some rocks precariously close to the shoreline, his head cocked skyward where a myriad of unknown constellations glittered overhead. “Toby,” she said, coming upon him. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered too quickly.
Distantly, she could hear something that sounded like a steady, manmade beat, a sound almost like…drums. She listened carefully, but the night fell still. All she could hear were some diplodocus bellowing across the plains. “Toby?” she said again.
He turned and smiled at her, but it was a mere shadow of his former smile, a soulless smirk like the kind Quinn had favored before they had become lovers. It looked…pained. Sad.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly concerned.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you have a pleasant swim this afternoon?”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Had Toby seen them together? She was almost prepared to ask when Toby offered her a dark look that made her cold somewhere deep inside. “He is going to get you killed, Sasha,” he said. “He is going to hunt the big one until she turns on him, on all of us.”
She swallowed against the lump of fear and anger in her throat. “No. He’s careful, Toby.”
He gave her a doleful look. “How can one be careful with something like that?”
“Toby, please…”
“Your handsome, adventurous hero,” he said in a mocking tone. “Will he protect you? Will he save the day?”
“Stop it,” she told him. Anger had won out over fear. “Leave him alone!” Toby was acting like a child, and she would endure it no longer. She returned to the cave and lay down by the fire. It was not yet her watch, though she wished it were. She would never get to sleep now. Early on, she had insisted, woman or not, that she partake in the watch duties like everyone else. After all, it had been her idea, and it was only right that she contribute. Naja was taking first watch. She thought about switching with her, but she didn’t know if she would be any good right now. She could feel tears burning up her eyes, and her heart was almost leaden with worry. She didn’t understand Toby at all anymore, didn’t know if she wanted to. In the dark, Quinn moved closer to her, as was his way. She often woke with him pressed against her back, his arm curved around her waist, snoring into her hair. But he must have sensed something was wrong, because his embrace was tighter and more intimate tonight, and his voice whispery soft against the back of her neck. “Sasha?”
“I’m fine.” She was proud of the steadiness of her voice. “I’m very tired. Goodnight, Quinn.”
The walking and fishing had taken their toll, and she fell quickly asleep despite her concerns. When next she awoke, it was near morning, the early grey ocean light filtering in waves into the cave, and she realized she’d overslept and missed her watch. She sat up, rubbing at her gritty eyes and clutching Quinn’s coat close about her shoulders. Toby and Naja lay together near the dwindling fire, still fast asleep, and that was the first indication that something was wrong. It was part of the watcher’s duties to make certain the fire didn’t go out, even if it was a warm night. The fire kept any lurking animals out of the cave. They seemed to have an instinctual fear of fire.
Sasha climbed stiffly to her feet, took up a javelin, and approached the cave entrance. “Quinn?” she called softly. She received no reply. Now she knew something was wrong. She shrugged out of his coat and stepped outside the cave, but no Quinn was there as he usually was, sitting in the sand, working on some new weapon or tool. “Quinn!” she cried, truly concerned now.
A blast of hot fetid air made her turn.
Standing on the rocks overtop the cave entrance was She, balanced precariously with her enormous, oversized head fully extended. In that moment, Sasha found herself face to face with the open mouth and bloodied teeth and stinking gullet of the beast. The Ceratosaurus roared, the sound ripping through Sasha like knives. Before she could turn or even scream for help, She struck, her teeth clamping over Sasha like a steel trap…
Sasha sat bolt upright, so shivering cold and disoriented that it took her a moment to realize she was still alive, still in the cave, that it was still the dead of night, and the fire was high. Dear God, she felt sick. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, knowing that she’d never get back to sleep without checking on Quinn. She took up a javelin, feeling a queer stab of déjà vu, and approached the cave entrance, being more careful before stepping out onto the sand. She craned her neck to make certain there were no dangers perched atop the cave, but nothing was there but a pair of roosting Rhamphorhynchus. The moment the small flying reptiles spotted her—they were barely larger than blackbirds and no danger at all—they fluttered up and away.
She turned to glance over the moon-silvered beach. “Quinn?” she called, but no one was there. No one answered. Sasha’s heart fluttered like the birds far above. “Quinn!” she screamed, sounding hysterical now.
Within seconds, Naja was at her side, her bow and quivers ready, with Toby not far behind, looking bleary with sleep. “What’s going on?
” he asked.
But Naja was already down in the sand, studying what looked like a scuffle of footprints. Sasha felt her heart speed up, ticking loudly in her throat, and she thought once more of the dream. She shivered violently. Most of the footprints were similar to the primitive boots that Naja wore. There looked to be four or five pairs of them. But one pair was more familiar. Quinn’s boots.
Half buried in the sand was Quinn’s survival knife. “Dear God,” Sasha said, picking it up. He never went anywhere without it, and she didn’t need Naja to tell her what she already knew. Sometime in the night, the Moja had taken Quinn.
CHAPTER 15
They followed the footprints for several hundred feet down the beach. They had likely gagged Quinn because no one had heard anything in the night, but it was obvious from the placement of the footprints and drag marks that he had struggled the whole way. Sasha was very proud of Quinn. He had fought them, and fought them hard. Finally, they reached a spot where the sand was splattered with droplets of blood—Quinn’s blood. Sasha stopped and looked at it, her spirits sinking.
Planet of Dinosaurs, The Complete Collection (Includes Planet of Dinosaurs, Sea of Serpents, & Valley of Dragons) Page 15
