It looks familiar, like a wolf…but different. There are horns on its head and two tails that click when the ends knock together.
The man remains seated, not even breaking a sweat.
CLICK, CLICK, CLICK…
Because I’m desperate, I look to the man-giant and mouth the word“Please.”
His arm goes behind the log he’s seated on and pulls up a giant spear. He tosses it to me.
My face scrunches in confusion. Surely he doesn’t think that I could wield this…this…thing. It’s heavy, ungainly, and so, so big. Taller than I am, even.
A guttural sound emits from the beast. It hunches, baring its teeth. I know that look in its eyes. It’s about to lunge.
I bring up the spear, anchoring the back end to the earth, and stand my ground, because there’s precious little else I can do.
The wolf-beasts spring forward, flying towards me.
But all I can do is clutch the spear, close my eyes, and pray to whatever god will have me.
6
GRIXIS
Watching the frail girl take down the endergulf makes me think I might be half mad. She’s a tiny thing, a slave to some foreign land. Not at all fit to be a warrior or hunter.
But as the beast crashes toward her, its heart going straight into the tip of the spear, it is clear I misjudged her abilities.
She cries out as the weight of the beast crashes into the weapon, and suddenly, she’s falling. It’s then that I realize she could be crushed, and while that fate might be fitting for the weak being I thought she was, now I know better.
I intervene just in time, taking the weight on myself as she falls to the forest floor. I lower the endergulf, withdraw my spear from its chest, and look down at the woman who’s scooting away from me, scrambling to get up. Just as she rights herself, her face grows pale, and her eyes roll to the back of her head.
I exhale a frustrated breath. Perhaps the beast’s death was just a stroke of luck because no capable being would succumb to a fainting spell.
Though she is injured, and just ran through the forest with no shoes, her wrists bound in shackles. She might not be outwardly as strong as my people, but there is strength in her.
I lay out a fur and lift her body, placing her gently in its center. Despite her outward frailness, when I’d seen her on the beach, she’d captivated me. Now, having her here, laid out on my fur, she’s absolutely beguiling.
Her musky odor perfuming the air doesn’t help matters.
Seeing her damaged wrists, I grab my pack and take out a tool to relieve her of her shackles. I insert the side called the melder into the lock and toggle it. The primitive mechanisms give way, and as I remove the cuffs, I see that she’s staring up at me.
Without saying a word, I pull a rag and ointment from my pack. Now that I know she can take down an endergulf, I’ve deemed her worthy of my resources.
“Are you an exile?” she says in a deadpan tone.
She speaks the lesser tongue, which doesn’t surprise me. Her mouth is probably not equipped to handle the sharp syllables of high speech.
Fear has left her, which is another sign of strength. Surely my tribe won’t turn her away.
Her heart still races, though. Like a drum. Surely you cannot think her worthy?
I try to quell my inner voice as what it says displeases me, but it’s not known to lie. I can hear her heart just as clearly as I can smell her fear. I can’t help but wonder what pleasure smells like on her.
I wet the rag and inspect her wrists, then I gently apply the salve to her cuts. She winces, clearly having a poor pain tolerance. That is not good. Every time I think she might be strong and worthy, another flaw presents itself.
“Are you going to enslave me?” she asks.
At that, I look at her with a skewed face, baffled she would think such a thing. What use could she possibly be to me? Mating? But that would be indecent. She would weaken my line.