by S. E. Smith
A rosy flush colored her face a darker shade of green and made the tan and red on her face vividly stand out. She shivered at the thought of his hands touching her with the same precision he was using to fold his blanket. She could almost feel them slide down her body.
“What is going on with me?” she muttered with a shake of her head.
L’eon snickered and fanned his face with one of his front feet. She shook her head again and made a face at him, then looked up when she heard the male’s distinctive voice cursing vehemently. He began searching the area around the ship. Her hand instinctively moved to her leather satchel.
His gaze swung to the tree line where she was standing, and Madas gripped her spear. With a snap of her fingers, L’eon scurried up the shaft, onto her arm, and settled on her shoulder.
“It is time to put our plan into action. May the Goddess be with us,” she murmured.
She turned and with a sweep of her spear, slashed the plants near her to leave a trail. She would leave just enough clues along the way to keep him following her. The cursing behind her suddenly stopped. He had heard the noise she had made. L’eon gripped her hair as she turned and fled.
Gril raced toward the tree line, silently cursing that he had not scouted the area last night when he first felt the sensation of being watched. He would not make that mistake again. His gut feelings had saved his life more than once.
He paused inside the tree line and pulled his pistol, scanning the area before he looked down at the ground. Squatting, he ran his fingers over the impression of a boot heel in the moist soil by the tree.
His eyes followed the impressions in the ground before he looked at the ferns a couple feet away. Rising to his feet, he stepped forward and fingered the clean cut. His eyes narrowed. The two shells, the distinctive three toed tracks leading into the forest, to where someone who wore small boots clearly had been watching him, and now ferns slashed by a weapon with a sharp edge—whoever had been here with his sticky-fingered little helper, they were working together, and wanted him to know it.
He moved forward, following the obvious trail that had been left behind, and mentally running through scenarios of how he’d turn the tables when he found whatever trap the two must be planning at the end of the trail. He didn’t have much choice except to see this through.
A half mile into the forest, the tracks suddenly vanished. He looked over his shoulder, then glanced down at the computer on his wrist. It would be easy to get disoriented if he wasn’t tracking where he was going.
The sudden sensation that he was being watched swept through him again. He slowly turned and pretended to be searching for tracks. Out at the edge of his peripheral vision, he caught a slight movement. He paused and knelt down on one knee.
As long as he remained where he was, he would be concealed behind a decaying log. His gaze turned to the spot where he thought he’d seen the movement. From his limited view, he could see the side of a boot and part of his antagonist’s leg above the limb of a tree twenty-five paces from him. His adversary’s face was hidden in the shadows.
He rose to his feet when he saw L’eon appear on the branch next to the boot. The lizard turned and goaded him by wiggling his butt in his direction. Disbelief turned to fury when L’eon turned and grinned at him. Gril started forward, jumping over the log.
“You little….”
The words had no sooner left his lips than he felt a sharp tug around his ankles. He looked down and closed his eyes, knowing what was about to happen. He winced when his already battered body was whipped around. He bounced through the ferns for several feet before he was jerked upward.
He opened his eyes. The ground swirled around under him. He gritted his teeth when he turned and saw the figure on the branch. On his third rotation, his prey was gone.
“Score one for you,” he grudgingly conceded.
It took him two tries before he was able to grab his calves. He rotated dizzily as he pulled the blade from his boot. After using his hands to pull himself up further, he swung the blade in his left hand and sliced through the rope.
He barely had time to twist before he hit the ground face first. All of the curses he wanted to say had to be expressed silently due to the fact that his face was in a muddy pool. Pushing up, he rolled and lay with his eyes closed to keep the mud from getting into them. He was also afraid to breathe in case the damn sludge went up his nose.
He wiped as much mud as he could off of his face and out of his eyes before he sat up. Blindly reaching down, he tugged his shirt out from his trousers and leaned forward to wipe the rest of his face as clean as possible. Opening his eyes, he grimaced at the smeared dirt.
“When I get my hands on that sneaky little reptile and the one that sent him, I’m going to bury them both up to their scrawny necks in the mud,” he growled, picking up his blade and slicing through the vine that had been used as a rope.
Pushing off the ground, he rose to his feet and warily looked around him for any more traps. He slid his blade back into his boot and checked to make sure that he hadn’t lost his laser pistol. Satisfied that the worst he had endured was humiliation and mud, he carefully worked his way toward the tree where he had seen the figure standing.
He stood under the branch and scanned the trunk. Then he reached up, grabbed a vine, and began to climb. Once he reached the limb, he pulled himself up onto it and stood. In the distance, he caught a brief glimpse of a figure swinging from a vine to the ground.
Releasing a growl of frustration, he grabbed one of the long vines hanging down from the canopy, ran along the limb, and jumped. Gril’s eyes widened when the vine snapped and he found himself flying through the air once again. This time he landed on his back, knocking all the air from his lungs as he hit the ground in a large bed of red ferns.
He lay still, wheezing as he tried to draw air back into his body. After a minute, he rolled to his side and stood up much more slowly than he had before. He placed his hands on his knees for a moment as the world tilted. It took a few seconds before he could get his legs to listen to the command rattling around in his brain.
He stumbled out of the red ferns and set off at a limping pace in the direction he hoped his antagonist had gone. A quarter mile later he had picked up the trail again—and something else. The first itch started on his neck. He absently scratched at it as he ran. The fiery sensation soon spread under his clothing to his arms and chest.
The irritation under his armpits was so bad that he began to run with his hands tucked under them. When it spread lower, he thought he would go mad. Nearly two hours later, he had tears running down his irritated cheeks. He felt like he was being dipped in acid.
By the time he stumbled out of the trees to a wide, rock-strewn riverbank, he was clawing at his skin. He fell to his knees when the rocks under his feet shifted. A tortured groan escaped him and his body trembled.
He looked up when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. L’eon stood on a boulder within a pool of water that was closer to his side of the riverbank than the opposite side. Fury poured through him. Clawing at the ground, he pushed his tortured, on fire body forward. He was going to kill that thieving piece of dung.
He stumbled to the edge of the river. Wading into the water, he stepped into a deep hole in the pool, and tripped, hitting the water with a great splash. He stared up through the crystal clear water at L’eon who looked down at him with a huge grin on his treacherous face. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with the fact that the torturous fire that had been eating him alive was beginning to ease a little.
Kicking upwards, he grabbed the boulder and broke the surface. He gasped for air and stared at the lizard who had moved to another boulder slightly further out. Gril was afraid to emerge from the water for fear the burning would come back.
“I’m going to roast you alive over an open pit,” he threatened.
L’eon’s delighted snickering made his fingers curl. He blinked when a damp wad of spongy leaves l
anded in front of him. Reaching for the mass, he grimaced when a foaming slime oozed from it.
He was about to throw it back at L’eon when the lizard pointed to it and then rubbed his face. Gril frowned, but squeezed a little of the foam into his hand and then rubbed his face. The burning on his cheeks immediately went away. He squeezed some more into his hand and rubbed it on his neck.
Once again, the burning disappeared and he felt instant relief. He groaned when he rubbed more on his face and neck, then placed the wad of leaves on the boulder, and pulled his body out of the water.
The burning sensation started again, slowly increasing. Gril pulled off his shirt, and tossed it on the rock beside him. He quickly removed his boots and stripped out of the rest of his clothes. Grabbing the foaming leaves, he lathered his body from head to toe. He was about to go back into the water when he suddenly paused, his body poised in indecision. Gril sent a beseeching look at L’eon, unsure of how long he needed to keep this stuff on. Was it a poultice or a cleanser? L’eon nodded toward the water, and Gril slipped back down beneath the clear surface to rinse off.
Once he was done, he used the soap to wash his clothing. It was then that he saw the red dust covering it. The dust matched the ferns he had fallen in.
“And that is why the thief took to the trees—to avoid the ferns from Dinneea’s Sun,” he murmured with a rueful shake of his head.
He looked up at where L’eon was sitting on the boulder watching him with adorably big eyes and a hopeful smile. Holding up the mass of leaves, he nodded his appreciation.
“Thank you for this, but you know I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t stolen the part to my ship,” he dryly said.
L’eon snickered and slid off the boulder into the water. A minute later, Gril saw the creature emerge on the far bank. His gaze moved to the line of trees on the other side of the river. He caught a glimpse of a slender figure stepping back into the shadows as L’eon entered the thicket of trees.
His eyes narrowed. “I hope you are enjoying my discomfort now, because I am going to thoroughly enjoy it when the roles are reversed,” he vowed under his breath.
He finished washing and rinsing his clothes. Tossing them up onto the boulder, he pulled himself out of the water. His expression darkened when he poured the water out of his boots. If there was one thing he hated, it was walking around in wet boots.
Shielding his eyes, he looked up at the sun. He had at least another four hours of good sunlight. His gaze moved to the far side of the river. It would be better to be on that side and let his clothes dry than on this one and have to cross it.
He gathered his clothes, boots, and weapons, and began wading across the river. Fortunately the deepest it got was up to his waist and the current wasn’t very strong. Once he reached the other side, he draped his wet clothing across a dead tree along the bank.
His hand paused when he saw a broad leaf wrapped around something and tied with a thin vine like a present on the log. He picked up two sticks, shoved them into the sand, placing his boots upside down on them before he stepped over the bundle. Picking it up, he scanned the tree line before he gingerly pulled the vine free and unfolded the leaf.
He shook his head when he saw the contents. A variety of fruits, nuts, and what looked like dried meat lay in the center. He looked up at the spot where he had last seen the figure and frowned.
“What are you doing?” he murmured, baffled by his antagonist’s behavior.
8
Devac stood on the beach near Gril’s fighter, analyzing the nearby tracks when the vibration of the comlink disrupted the silence. Activating the link, Devac responded in an irritated tone.
“I told you I would contact you,” Devac snapped.
“Your lack of progress is a concern. You are not inspiring confidence in your ability to complete your mission,” the deep voice stated.
“I have found his ship. I will contact you once he is dead. Until that time, do not contact me again,” Devac coldly responded, ending the communication and turning to follow the boot prints into the forest.
“Will you stop!” Madas snapped.
L’eon snickered again. He had been laughing off and on for the past hour, and by this point, she was gritting her teeth. She suddenly stopped and with a muttered grumble, she sat down on a log, resting her elbows on her knees. L’eon climbed up beside her and sat down.
She moodily stared back the way they had come. She couldn’t get the image of the pale Tearnat out of her head. Rolling the shaft of her spear between her palms, she released a long sigh.
“I should have just left him miserable. We could have been back to his ship by the time he was able to get out of the water,” she said.
L’eon put on an expression of comically exaggerated agony, scratched his belly, then his butt, then his neck, flinging himself onto his back on the log with his toes dramatically laid against his forehead, his tongue lolling out, and he started laughing again.
Her lips twitched at his antics. It was funny. The pale Tearnat couldn’t get out of his clothes fast enough once he realized what was causing him to itch. The memory of his nude body drew an involuntary groan from her. The male was hot!
She reached over and tickled L’eon’s tummy. The little lizard had worn himself out laughing so hard. She shot him a rueful grin.
“I guess it was a good thing we circled back when I saw him fall. I was afraid he had fallen in the fire ferns. You only need to do that once to know never to do it again,” she chuckled.
She knew from experience the misery the fire ferns caused. That horrible red pollen filtered through your clothing and became worse when you scratched it—but of course, it was just like the Goddess to make sure the antidote grew nearby. The juicy leaves of the green mint bush were the only thing Madas knew of that could counteract the chemicals in the fire fern pollen. Water helped some, but unless the pollen was washed from the skin with the juice of the green mint, the burning would return.
That poor pale Tearnat clearly knew nothing about surviving in the forest. While he bumbled along, all his effort devoted to catching her, she had gathered food as she led him further North. A little here and a little there added up when darkness came and it was time to take to high ground to avoid the night crawlers and the hairless beasts that roamed in packs searching for an unfortunate victim.
“He will need to let his clothing dry some before he comes after us or he will be chafing,” she said, looking back the way they had come again.
L’eon pressed his back feet against her, stretched, and yawned. She shook her head when his eyes slowly closed, and she reached over and affectionately rubbed his belly. It wouldn’t hurt to allow him a short nap.
Using her spear as a walking stick, she stood up and looked around, then she scooped L’eon’s limp body up in the crook of her arm and started walking again. She would put some distance between them and set up a place for the Tearnat to use for the night.
“Only because it is pitiful to hunt a creature who is so far out of his element,” she quietly defended.
Given his inexperience, he could easily make the mistake of setting up along an animal trail or in a night crawlers’ feeding area. Even the smaller insects that came out at night could strip the meat off of his bones before he knew what was attacking him. What type of person would leave anyone to that kind of death?
“Even if he wouldn’t do the same for anyone else, that doesn’t mean I have to stoop to his level! After all, the Forest Tearnats are a gentle clan. Well, everyone except perhaps for my mother and a handful of others,” she mused as she walked, enjoying the dappled sunlight and the familiar sounds of the forest.
“Father said that even the most fearsome predators provided balance. Perhaps there is a reason that the pale Tearnats eat—others,” she mumbled.
She looked down at L’eon and sighed. His front and back legs dangled and swayed as she walked. His tongue was hanging out of the side of his mouth and he was softly snoring.
She turned onto a wider path. Large, round footprints and the gouges on nearby trees showed this was a commonly used path for wild Tusked Walmounts. The hairy beasts were herbivores who munched on the leaves hanging down from the black hardwoods and were known to scrape the moss that grew on their long, curved tusks against the rough bark of the trees to clean them. They were friendly, as long as you didn’t get too close to their calves.
Eventually she found a good spot for the Tearnat to rest, so she gathered some sweet moss, laced it with the most effective of the bug repellants growing nearby, and set up a haven for him. She left several green water nuts along with more food wrapped up in a large leaf. She hoped the pale Tearnat was able to follow the trail she’d left and find the spot she had chosen for him. That was all that she could do without actually holding his hand.
The sun had begun to set over the mountains when she reached the edge of the Goddess’s Stronghold an hour later. Tomorrow, she would lead him through the treacherous maze of rock formations that wound upward. The sharply twisting columns looked like towers guarding a fortress.
She would camp here for the night. L’eon sniffed the air and emitted a soft, menacing growl. She didn’t blame him for being wary—no matter how skilled a hunter was, no one would be completely safe here.
“Only a small fire tonight,” she murmured, stroking L’eon’s head as she started climbing.
L’eon scrambled off her shoulder onto a rock, and quickly scaled up the side. She laughed when he turned and looked at her progress in surprise.
“You aren’t the only one who enjoys climbing, my little friend. I’m exceptionally good at it.” She grinned, and jumped, grabbing the ledge above her. This part was the most difficult because there was no true path cut from the bottom. Once she reached the upper section, there was a natural path through the rock formations made by runoff from the rain.
