Barbarian Alien (13 page)

She groans and rolls over in the blankets, offering me a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts and the thatch of soft fur between her legs. “Not your mate,” she yawns. “Last night was just for funsies.” Then she grabs the furs and pulls them back over her.

I scowl. Not this again? It doesn’t matter if she took me into her body or not. Our khuis have decided. She took me in her mouth and made me erupt. Of course we are mated. Irritated, I rip the blankets off and toss them aside. “If you are not my mate, then I do not need to be soft on you, do I? Get up or you will be welcoming a face full of snow, as I would any other lazy hunter.”

Her eyes open and she scowls at me. “Seriously? Who peed in your cornflakes? You’re in a foul mood.”

“And you’re being slow. Did you wish to hunt or shall I go without you?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she gripes, sitting up. “Dick.”

“The song of my people?” I reply back to her, remembering her words.

“You got it.”

• • •

Once Liz gets moving and out of bed, she picks up speed and I no longer have to wait on her. We bank the fire and leave the cave behind, and I begin to show her how a sa-khui hunter moves in the wild. If it was just me, I would tie a few branches to my tail and whisk them through the snow as I walk to cover my tracks. But because I am traveling with Liz, I want the tracks to remain, in case we get separated. I want her to be able to find her way back to the cave.

Also? She has no tail.

We move through the snow and Liz suggests something called snowshoes. She is smaller than I am and the larger snow drifts go as high as her waist. At her suggestion, we head to the trees and get a few slim stalks so my mate can play around with her shoe concept when we return to the cave.

She’s happy to be out and about. Her cheeks are ruddy, but her eyes are glowing bright and there’s a smile on her face. She’s proud when she demonstrates her bow, too. I sit on my haunches and watch her practice a few shots. It’s a strange weapon, a bit like a sling that fires darts instead of stones. She pulls on the string to launch her darts, and mutters unhappily when it falls a few feet away. She makes some adjustments to the bow itself and adjusts the tiny feathers in the fletching, and then tries again, and this time she’s able to hit a tree with some speed a short distance away.

I’m impressed. “It’s an interesting weapon. You are quite clever.”

She beams at me. “I used to hunt with a bow all the time as a teenager. This isn’t quite the same, and I’m having to adjust as I go, but it’s close. I think I can get it to work.” Liz pats her waist. “Now I need to make an arrow pouch to go here.”

I nod. “I can help you with that when we get back.”

She bites her lip, happiness on her face, and my khui begins to sing. She’s beautiful, even with her flat, strange human features. Her khui responds to mine, and her smile falters a little.

Ah yes. More of the strange human rituals. Denying a mating. I ignore it and gesture at the twin suns, now high in the skies. “Are you ready to hunt then? We can head to the water.”

“Water?” She brightens. “Is it another heated stream? I could use a bath.” She lifts her tunic and wrinkles her nose. “I’m a little sweaty.”

Her scent is like perfume to me, but I shrug. “We can bathe, or we can hunt.”

“Let’s hunt. Maybe we can bathe later tonight?” Her expression is innocent. “If we catch something, I might even let you wash my back.”

I will find her the slowest, most sluggish creature in all the snows so she may fill it with her darts.

LIZ

Hunting with Raahosh is kinda fun. The air is crisp, and even though the snow is heavy, the twin suns are shining and it feels good to get out and explore. I’ve been cooped up too long in that cave. Raahosh isn’t the most patient of men, but I can hold my own. My bow is a work in progress, but I’m confident I can get it to work after a few test shots.

“There,” Raahosh says as we crest a craggy hill. He pulls a strand of hair from his head and releases it, checking if we’re upwind or not. He grunts and then gestures over the horizon. “Do you see the tracks?”

I squint. “How the hell can you see anything from this far away?”

He grabs my chin and tips it down. “You’re not looking at the snow.”

I pull away from him and peer down over the ridge. Sure enough, there are tracks in the snow. They head off over the next crest. “So we’re heading in the right direction?”

“We are,” he agrees. “You look at the snow…or you can follow your nose.”

“My nose?”

“The smell of the water that comes heated from the earth.”

I sniff and he’s right – there’s a faint whiff of rotten eggs in the air, which means there’s water nearby. “Gotcha.”

He arches one heavy brow at me, which is impressive because his forehead is damn near unmovable with all that plating. “What kind of hunting did your father show you?”

“If that’s a crack aimed at my dead father, I will kick your ass—“

He reaches for my chin again and tips my head toward him before I swat his hand away. His hard mouth is curled at the edges in amusement. “So defensive. I meant nothing by it. Your weapons are different. I assumed you had different hunting methods.”

Oh. I relax a little. “Well, my daddy owned some land out in the sticks. He had a deer blind and we’d set up near the trails.” I sketch out to him with words what a deer blind is, and he nods understanding. “And then, of course, there’s the deer corn or the salt lick.”

“Deer corn?”

“Yeah, you kinda feed them in the same spot every day and stuff. Then when they’re nice and fat and used to handouts, they come to you instead of chasing them down.”

He grunts acknowledgment and then shields a hand over his eyes, gazing down at the snow. “We have kits that do that to a few two-fangs back at the home caves. But we call those creatures ‘pets’.”

“Hey,” I say defensively, thwapping him on the arm. “Not every family can afford a freezer full of fresh meat, you know. You do what you have to in order to survive, Mister Judgey.” Of course, I remember saying the same thing to my father back when I was younger. Pot, kettle and all that. “If to puts food on the table, it’s hunting.”

“Wise words,” he says. “But now you must learn to track.”

He’s right, of course. “Lead on, o wise one.”

We cross over the hills and I slog through the snow, following him. About fifty yards away, I see the bubbling pool of water, bright blue against the snow. Which is great…except that there’s a cliff about five feet ahead of us, and it’s a sheer drop for at least twenty or thirty feet. Drinking at the water is a shaggy, pony-like creature that looks like a cross between Bambi and a sheepdog.

“Dvisti,” Raahosh says.

“Okey-doke. Looks like good eating.” I pull up my bow and nock an arrow, then aim. The wind is against me, and we’re pretty far away. I’m still not used to the pull on the bow and my needle-like bone arrows are iffy at best. “I don’t think I can hit him from here. How do we get down there?”

“Wait here,” he tells me, straightening. “I’ll find a path down.” Raahosh saunters away, spear in hand, and I might ogle his ass a bit.

Just a bit.

I relax my arrow and glance down at the creature, watching it to see if it leaves. I’m so intent on watching it, that I almost miss the
chirrup
I hear from behind me. But then it happens again.

I glance over my shoulder.

There’s a friggin’ Ewok. Ohmigod.

Okay, so it’s not really an Ewok. It’s a fuzzy thing that looks more like an overgrown Furby with long arms and legs, but the round eyes blinking at me are adorable. It chirrups again and then dashes forward a step or two, then moves back. It blinks at me, then repeats the motion and runs in a circle.

Is this a game? For all of its hair and beaky face, it looks young. Maybe it’s the big, liquid eyes. When it
chirrups
at me again, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

This might be bad. Like, finding a happy, roly-poly bear cub bad, only to realize that Mommy bear is a few feet away. “Raahosh? You still here?”

It cocks its head and scampers away, and I slowly replace my arrow back into firing position. The chirrup sounds again—

And then is repeated by another, deeper creature’s voice. And another. And another. As I gaze out at the snowy ridges behind me, they seem to emerge from everywhere. More of the tall, furry creatures with dirty, matted hair and bulging eyes.

I was right. This one’s a baby. The others don’t look nearly as friendly.

“Raahosh?” I call again, raising my arrow as one of the biggest ones moves toward me. “Help?”

“Liz,” Raahosh says in a low voice, off to my side. I look over at him, heart pounding, and see he’s several feet away, spear at the ready. He’s in a stare-down with three big, nasty versions of the things. He doesn’t look over at me, and his stance is one of battle. He’s ready to attack the moment anyone moves a muscle.

“What are these?” I hiss. One takes another step forward, and I step backward, only to remember that I’m on the edge of a cliff. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“They are metlaks. And where there is one, there is a hundred.”

“Well, I see a hundred,” I say, exaggerating a bit. Just a bit. There’s probably only two dozen or so. Gee. That’s all.

“My mate,” Raahosh says in a low voice. “When I say run, you must run. Do not argue.”

What is he talking about? Is he going to distract them so I can run away? “What? No! I—“

“Liz,” he says again, warningly. I look over and his hand clenches on his spear. “Do not argue with me. Now — go!” With that, he gives a battle cry and surges forward.

Fuck that noise. I aim my first arrow and let it fly just as the first creature opens its mouth and lunges at me with a snarl.
 

RAAHOSH

The scene before me is something out of my worst nightmares. Liz’s small form stands on the edge of the cliff, her strange weapon clenched in her hands. Metlaks – the wild, unpredictable creatures – surround her. I have seen them tear a hunter limb from limb in a matter of seconds, and I have seen them walk past another as if he did not exist. They are impossible to understand, and savage when provoked.

And a cub stands near Liz’s leg, which definitely counts as provoking.

“Run,” I command her again, but the stubborn woman doesn’t listen. Instead, she raises one of her bone-sliver arrows and aims, waiting. A protective fury comes over me when one of the metlaks bares its big, yellow teeth in my direction. They think to hurt my mate? To take her from me after waiting for so long? I will snap their bones and crush their filthy pelts under my boot before I let them touch her. A feral snarl escapes my throat and I pull one of my deadly bone knives free from its casing, my spear in my other hand.

Liz takes another step backward, ever closer to the edge of the cliff. My heart hammers in my breast, and a wave of pure fear moves over me.

“Liz,” I bark out as one of the metlaks prowls toward her. “Run past me. Go
now
. I will distract them. Quickly!”

“I’m not leaving you,” she calls out, not looking away from the metlak closest to her.

“Don’t be foolish,” I growl as it paces ever closer to her. Two more steps and he’ll be able to reach her with his long arms. She needs to move fast. “Come, Liz—“

My heart stops as it lunges for her. I cry out and surge forward, my spear flying. It flies through the air and slams into the side of the metlak reaching for my precious mate. It staggers and then falls forward, still reaching for her. I cry out in anger and storm through the snow, moving to stand in front of her.

Another creature bellows and begins to beat on its chest, sending a furious call forth across the snows. The other metlaks respond, and one charges forward. I’ve seen these tactics before. They will rush us to the edge of the cliff and pick off our carcasses later, once they know we are dead. I refuse to fall back.

Sssssthok
.

One of Liz’s bone needles flies past and appears in the eye socket of one of the bigger males. It groans and falls into the snow, twitching. Her shot is beautiful, and I see the potential for the weapon.

“Watch your arm,” she calls to me as she raises another arrow and aims it. When another leaps for us, she shoots again, and again, her bone needle hits its mark. The metlak is dead before it can hit the ground.

It is a thing of beauty to see, and fierce pride in my mate surges inside me.

Then, the remaining metlaks scream and charge forward all at once.

My instincts honed from years of hunting, my need to protect fierce within me, I surge forward with a yell of my own. I hear Liz gasp, but it only encourages my ferocity.

They will not get near her. They will have to storm over my dead carcass first.

I launch into the first one with a fury, my bone blade slicing against its wooly neck with such ferocity that it’s nearly severed. I lunge for the next, and instead of fighting me, it ducks away. Another lands on my back, pulling at my hair and clothing. Sharp teeth sink into my shoulder and I hear Liz scream. I jam my knife into the one in front of me, even as the one on my back slides to the ground. I look down and see another one of Liz’s thin bone arrows jutting from its throat.

“I’ve only got the one left,” she cries out behind me, even as two more jump onto me and a third attacks from the front. One on one, they would be no problem. But metlaks are savage, ripping creatures. Already their claws and teeth are sinking into my skin, tearing at me. I growl with pain when one slashes across my face, and blood veils my sight. “Raahosh!” she cries from a distance. “You’re moving too close to the ledge! I—hey! Get back!” Her warning voice changes to one of fear, and I snarl and turn toward her. Three are heading for her, pacing in her direction, their large teeth bared. The one on my back bites at my neck furiously, and I feel shockwaves go through my arm even as my blade sinks into the chest of another.

Must save my mate.

The thought rings in my head over and over again.