Barbarian Mine

Harlow

I need two poles for a travois. Two. No problem. There's got to be trees in the distance, and I'm strong and whole.

Okay. I can do this. I can.

Aehako's instructions ring through my mind, over and over. We need to make a travois and take Haeden back to the healer. My heart races wildly in my chest as I sprint through the snow, looking for the thin, pink, wispy trees of this planet. Kira's gone, and both aliens are wounded. They need my help, and I can't let them down. I don't know why they don't go back to the alien ship and get healed. They don't trust it, and I guess I understand that. I'm used to technology, and it still freaks me out to think of the cold, emotionless voice of the computer.

Also, I know what it's like to fear the doctor.

My feet sink into the snow with each step, and my leather boots quickly become sodden. There's no time to fix them or reinforce the insides with warm dvisti fur. Time is of the essence. I trudge forward over a drift-covered hill, and when I see the pink, wispy eyelashes of trees in the distance, I pick up the pace.

Almost there.

I have Haeden's knife, since he's too wounded to use it. The bone handle is smooth in my hand, though it's a little too big for my human-sized palm to grip comfortably. Everything here on Not-Hoth is sa-khui sized. I'm a decent height for a girl, but the average person on this planet seems to be seven feet tall, and the snows are deep, the caves huge. Really, everything feels just a wee bit too big. It's like I've been transported to a Goldilocks house, except instead of just right, everything's too large.

It's just one more thing I must adjust to in an endless stream of new and frightening things.

Weeks ago, I went to sleep in my own bed, and the biggest concern on my mind was when I'd start my chemo. Then, a few weird dreams later, I woke up, shivering and weak, pulled from a tube and told I'd been abducted by aliens.

Which would have been hard to believe except that I'd come from Houston, Texas, and my air conditioner had gone out, so I'd spent the evening sweating and praying the repairman would come by soon. When I'd woken up? It had been so cold my bare feet had stuck to the metal floors, and strange blue aliens occasionally entered to chat with the humans.

It's hard to call someone a liar when they're seven feet tall, blue, and horned. After seeing that, I had to believe. And even though sometimes I want to pinch myself until I wake up, I have to accept the fact that I'm now living on a snow planet with no chance of getting home, and I'm infected with an alien parasite that allows me to endure the harsh conditions of Not-Hoth. Not exactly how I'd visualized my future at all.

But . . . at least I have a future.

According to the ship's medical computers, I'm cancer-free now. I don't know if it's wrong, or if it's Not-Hoth's atmosphere or the new "cootie" (as some of the girls call it) living in my chest.

All I know is that the inoperable brain tumor isn't showing up in scans. And for the first time in the last year, I have hope.

But first . . . a travois.

When I get to the trees, I move to the closest one and touch the bark with my fingertips. It feels spongy and damp despite the chill in the air, and not sturdy enough to support a massive, muscled alien. I have no idea if this will work, but I'll give it a shot. I owe the sa-khui my life, and so I'm going to do my best to help Haeden and Aehako.

Kneeling down, I begin to hack at the base of the first tree. The knife sinks in with a squishing noise, and sap squirts out onto the snow. Ugh. I wrinkle my nose and keep cutting, determined. Kira's gone, and they're wounded, so I'm the only one that can help.

The snow crunches nearby.

I stand upright, surprised. It almost sounded like a footstep. "Hello?" I turn around and look. "Aehako?"

No one's there. The snowy landscape is barren, nothing but rolling drifts as far as the eye can see.

I must be imagining things. I'm not alone out here in the wild. There're creatures everywhere, or so the hunters tell me. It could be one of the porcupine-looking things. Or maybe it's a rabbit. Or . . . whatever the rabbit equivalent on this planet is.

I can't be a silly chicken and freak out at every little sound, though. I turn back to the tree and continue hacking at it.

I hear the crunch of snow again, and a moment later, a heavy thudding. My blood feels like it's surging in my ears, and I press a hand to my head, wincing.

No, wait. That's not thudding or drumming. My heart is calm. Is it . . . purring?

Something slams into the back of my head, and I pitch forward into darkness.

Even there, the strange purring follows me.

Rukh

I move through the snow soundlessly, even though I am trembling with excitement. My heart slams in my chest, pulse racing as if I have sped across the land instead of stalking my prey. There is a whirring sound, almost like the clicking noises the great gray beasts in the salt water make, but different.

It is coming from my chest. From me.

I don't know what this means. All I know is that I've smelled the strange creatures surrounded by the bad ones, the ones my father told me to avoid. There are two strange things traveling with the bad ones-they are so furry it is impossible to tell what their bodies look like, but one has a shock of orange-red mane that fascinates me. I've followed them since last night, and now the reddish-maned one is alone.

And I . . . panic. When it starts to turn, I club it over the head.

It collapses to the ground in a heap of multicolored fur. A bone knife, similar to my father's, falls from its hand.

I rub my thrumming chest, confused.

As I look down at the creature at my feet, I see . . . it's female. It's strange and different from the bad ones. There are no ridges on the brows, and the skin is the soft, pale color of a dvisti's underbelly instead of a healthy blue. It's speckled with dirt, but there's no mistaking the feminine tilt of the lips, or the delicate features. Frowning to myself, I put a hand on the thick furs of its chest to feel for teats. To my surprise, the furs part. It's a fur covering of some kind, not part of the creature at all. It's wearing them like I sometimes wear a covering in the coldest weather.

My hand brushes over one of the teats and my fingers graze one pebbled nipple.

The creature moans and the thrumming in its chest grows louder.

My own body responds, my cock immediately hardening and aching with the need for release. I'm surprised-and more than a little appalled at how my body is responding. This thing is ugly and pale. Why am I reacting to it like I do the strange, unsettling dreams I sometimes have? With one hand, I push my thrusting cock aside. I don't have time to deal with this. I gather up the unconscious creature and put its knife in my bag, then I sling the creature over my shoulder and begin to carry it back to my cave.

I'll decide what to do with it there.


The creature remains unconscious. I set it down in one corner of my cave and ponder what to do with it. It’s a her, I decide. It’s soft and pretty and has teats. My cock still aches with need, and as I pace, I stroke my hand up and down the length of it, because it feels good.

I don't know what to do. This female thing has unsettled me. It's not food, like my father taught. She was with the bad ones, but she ran away. Does that make her good? I wonder.

I close my eyes and squeeze my hand over the tip of my cock. It feels so good that my entire body shudders, and the strange thrumming in my chest grows louder.

I wish my father were here.

He's been dead for many, many seasons. I was a tiny kit when he died, and I've been alone ever since. Father always had answers, though. He would know why my chest is thrumming and why my cock aches around the female. A surge of loneliness sweeps over me. Sometimes I hate that I have no answers, only questions, and no one to ask.

I continue stroking my cock until it spits forth wetness, and my body finally relaxes. I watch her as I do it, and I tell myself it's because I'm curious. Her chest seems to be thrumming along with mine, so whatever is causing this affects her, too. I wipe my wet hand in the dirt floor of the cave and then crawl toward the unconscious female.

My movements are stealthy, as if any moment she might wake up and attack me. She's small and still, and I wonder if I've hurt her worse than I realized. For some reason, the thought stabs at me, and I lift her head, examining her skull. Underneath the reddish-gold floss of her mane, she has a lump, but otherwise seems to be fine. I press my cheek against her nose and feel the air move. Still alive. Her eyes are closed, her breathing even.

I feel guilty that I've hurt her. I shouldn't have. She's mine. But I panicked. I do have some pain root, though. It's good for making blood clot up and she's got a gash on her head. I set her down gently and head over to my herb bag and find the dried root. I chew it into a mash, then return to the female and daub it onto her head wound. She will be glad for it later.

I gently lay her back onto the ground, and as I do, I can't help but stare at her. Her skin is speckled with a reddish-brown dirt of some kind, and I scratch at it absently. Her skin is different than mine-there's no soft, light covering of fur. She is bare everywhere except her head and that feels . . . strange. It makes my cock hard again, but I ignore it. I can't sit around and rub it all day. I notice that the spots don't go away when I touch. They're on her skin. It's curious. I lick my thumb and rub at another, but it doesn't move.

Strange creature.

I tug at the fur coverings, curious to see if this female is spotted everywhere. They fall open and reveal another lighter covering underneath, made of something similar to my waterskin. I pull it off and reveal more of the strange, pale skin with the spots on it. Her arms are smooth and soft, devoid of the thick plating mine have. I rub my arm, then touch hers. Very different. She is all softness, and it makes me think she is weak.

I've never seen anything like her. I tug at the leathers again and they fall open, revealing her teats. I draw back, surprised at the sight. They're full and round, with pinkish-brown tips that point at the air. I touch one, curious to see if she'll make that throaty sound like she did earlier.

But she's silent, and I'm disappointed. My cock jerks and aches, desperate for another release. I ignore it and press my hand between her teats, where she is thrumming, just like me. Her chest is vibrating at the same speed as my own, which is curious. It's like we are joined, somehow. Like our bodies have decided to sing a song together.

I like that.

I like looking at the female, too. I like her strange, spotted skin and her odd mane. I like her small, pretty teats and even her tiny, ugly face. She has no horns and no tail from what I can tell, but the scent of her is maddeningly delicious. I feel an odd need to lick her and find where the scent is coming from, but my cock throbs at the thought.

I'm not sure I like how out of control my body is in her presence. Frowning to myself, I replace her furs, hiding her teats from view, and move back to the other side of the cave. There are things I must do before I can go to sleep: there is water to be melted, cords to be braided for trap lines, and blades to be sharpened. I must eat, and I must check my pit traps.

There is no one to help, so I cannot sleep until things are done. As I pick up a bit of dried sinew, I crouch and watch the female from afar. I'm not leaving the cave, nor am I leaving her alone.

This female is mine now. I've taken her from the bad ones. She belongs to me, and I'll kill anything that tries to take her.

Harlow

My head aches fiercely, and the first thing I think is that the brain tumor's come back. That the computer in the alien ship was wrong, and I'm not well after all. That I'm dying and these are my last moments.

But then memories trickle in. Memories of frantic hunting for trees, chopping at one, and then something hitting me hard from behind.

And purring, oddly enough.

Relief shoots through me. I'm okay. My khui fixed my brain tumor. I'm not on Earth, and I'm not dying.

The purring is still in my mind, though, like a gigantic cat that won't leave my chest. Except, I realize as I slowly open my eyes, there are no house cats here, and the purring is coming from inside my chest.

Shit. I've been around the others long enough to know what that means. It's resonance. I'm resonating to a man because my khui-or cootie, as we humans like to call it-has decided I'll be the perfect mate for someone. The only men we were traveling with were Aehako and Haeden, though. One of them? I like Aehako, but I know he's in love with Kira. Haeden is all gruff snarls. I'm not sure I like the thought of being his mate.