Page 51 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER TEN

Anghar

M y Ellie’s eyes are wide with fear as she looks up at me, her fingers hovering near the edges of my wound.

It looks bad and when I move the hurt cuts deep into my side.

But it is not a killing wound. Not alone.

I try to smile to reassure my linasha, but a wave of pain crashes through me, transforming my expression into a grimace.

My Ellie’s hands go to my elbows, taking a little more of my weight.

It is not good. With rest and proper treatment I will be fine in a few days, but these are not things I can have right now.

The two males who attacked us are of the Cliff Top tribes - those toughened warriors with their skills etched on their arms. A scouting party heading for the sands to find the egg.

When they do not return to the rest of their tribe, others will come looking for them.

It may be several days yet, or just a few hours, depending on how far ahead they were scouting.

I need to get my Ellie away from here before the rest of the tribe arrives.

I cannot afford to be debilitated by injury.

I take a deep, steadying breath. Pray to Lina for strength.

Then I step back from my Ellie, taking my own weight.

It hurts, but my legs hold. My Ellie’s eyes still shine with worry and I want to raise my hand to her cheek, touch her again.

But I am covered in blood and so is she, so I hold myself back.

Neither of the Cliff Top tribe males have packs on.

That tells me they have not wandered far from their tribe, or that they set their packs down a little way from the clearing so as to be unburdened when they came to fight me.

I cast my gaze around the area they came from, looking for a trail to follow.

They are warriors, not hunters, not light on their feet and difficult to trace as I would have been, and it takes only a moment to find the signs of their passage.

I take a step towards it, clutching at my side, the pressure holding the pain in a little.

“ Whataryudoin ?” my Ellie says, stepping up beside me, her voice like music to my heartspace.

When she trembled in my arms, I felt sure her voice had been frightened out of her, that her already frightened spirit would shrink even further into herself.

But I underestimated her. She is fierce, my linasha. Brave and strong. I owe her my life.

Not that she did not own every part of me from the moment we first stepped into the dreamspace together.

She has untied her strange clothes from her waist, pulling the garment up over her shoulders, covering her body.

The material looks rough, not designed for the warmth of these forests.

But perhaps she does not wish to see the blood that coats her skin.

Mine and the Cliff Top tribe male’s. She was sure and strong when she sliced into the male’s neck, and I am grateful for it, but it is clear to me that my Ellie does not relish ending another’s life.

Her compassion is a credit to her. I wonder if she would still feel it if she knew what that male threatened to do to her.

I point to my pack, still on the floor across the clearing, then point to the two dead raskarrans.

My Ellie frowns, my simple gestures not enough to convey my full meaning.

I mime walking, then point to the trail the other raskarrans made.

My Ellie points to them, then points to the trail, repeating my walking gesture.

I nod, sure she has understood me in some small way.

I take a step towards my pack, but my Ellie slips ahead of me, picking up the pack, hefting it over her slender shoulders.

I wish to take it from her but I think perhaps she is wise in carrying it.

Just making the step sent a jolt of pain from my side, up through my back and down into my leg. I need to save what strength I have.

I step onto the path, turning my back on the bodies in the small clearing.

Part of me hates to leave them there to feed the scavengers of the forest. It would be honourable to bury them by Deep Forest tribe customs, but I do not have the time or the strength to spare.

Besides, the purpose of burial is to return the body to the ground so it can feed the roots of Lina’s trees and become one with her forest. I do not think these two have followed Lina’s ways for some time.

A flash of rage goes through me as I recall the way they spoke of my linasha, their crude words making it clear they saw her as a body to use for their own satisfaction, not a person with a headspace full of thoughts and a heartspace full of feelings.

Even when I told them she was mine, my mate, they just scoffed and refused to believe me.

Lina is dead, they said.

It is not something I have never considered.

The sickness took our females, all of them.

I wondered for a time if Lina died with them.

It was hard to hope that the mistress of our forests still had a guiding hand in our lives back then, when we thought we would be the last of our kind, destined to die alone.

But the forest continued to provide for my tribe brothers, our home continued to be full of beauty.

I felt Lina’s smile every time I prayed over an ensouka I hunted, recognised her presence beside me on the long nights of watching over our village at the outposts.

I kept my faith in her ways and now I see in my beautiful linasha that she had a plan for us all along.

It is not hard to follow the path. In their arrogance, the Cliff Top tribe males did not take care to move cautiously through the trees.

A short distance from our clearing, I find two packs set down.

I drop to the floor beside them, my skin sticky with blood and sweat, and search through their things.

“ Medicalsupplies? ” my Ellie says.

“I am hoping they have bandages,” I say, “djenti berry paste. Rations to feed you with, my linasha.”

My Ellie searches the second pack, pulling out ration bars and setting them down in a neat pile.

With a sound of triumph, she pulls out a loose shirt.

Using my knife, she cuts into the hem just a little, then tears the material in half, folding it into one long strip.

Then she turns, holding it out towards me.

A bandage. My clever linasha. I sit myself upright, tugging my shirt up, away from the tear in my flesh.

My Ellie does not flinch at the sight of it, just wraps her bandage twice around me, pulling it tight and tying it off.

Shemza would not be pleased to see it, but without proper medical supplies and a healer’s skill, it is as good as I could have hoped for.

I look to my linasha, try to convey my gratitude with a smile, and realise how close she is to me.

My heartspace drums faster. I know it is out of necessity, not a desire for nearness, but it is still a little piece of trust she is gifting me.

A sign that perhaps we are not so distant as we were when we fled the sands.

I have fought for her and she has fought for me.

It has bonded us - a bond I would have preferred not to have to forge, but I cannot help but be glad for it.

My Ellie returns my gaze, a bit of suspicion in her eyes.

I think perhaps she has decided that I am the best option of those available.

It is hardly a declaration of affection, but I do not mind.

If she watches me closely out of fear I have bad intentions, it only means she is sure to see that I do not.

I touch the bandage, then touch my heartspace, bowing my head a little.

When I look back up, meeting her gaze again, she gives me the smallest of nods, then rises to her feet, holding a hand out to me.

I take it, because it is offered, and I burn to touch her again even in this small way.

But I try to push myself to my feet with the strength in my own legs, rather than pull on her, using her only to keep my balance.

When I am vertical, I look down at her hand in mine, delighted by the way her small hand fits within my larger one.

Her skin is a little rough - like a hunter’s hands.

I wish I could take the time to make a study of her, learn all these little details.

But it would not be comfortable for her and I will not be happy until we are back with the rest of my tribe, safe within their numbers.

So I let her go, gesturing in the direction of the sands.

I am unsure if she understands that is where I intend for us to go, but she nods, shouldering the pack again - now heavier with the food supplies of the Cliff Top tribe scouts.

She has one of the ration bars in her hand still and gives me a questioning look as she raises it to her mouth.

I wonder what it means that she feels the need to ask permission to eat when she has so clearly gone hungry.

I hope she only fears that we do not have enough to last us, not that she thinks I would deny her what she needs, that I would anger if she does not ask me first.

Not being able to speak to her is a growing frustration. I only hope that my injuries are not so bad that I am unable to join her in the dreamspace tonight.