Page 13 of Wild Life (STEAM-y #2)

Chasing the Runaway

Aleki

One minute, I was hypnotized by the repetitive rise and fall of her wet breasts, and the next, I was gaping at the open door, no trace of her left behind.

Maris had bolted out of the hut, away from me, as fast as the lightning cracked outside. If I had blinked, I would’ve missed her sprint.

I had been left sitting up in bed, completely dumbfounded by what had happened. My erection immediately deflated when the reality of her stupidity hit me.

She couldn’t survive out there, especially with the high winds and slick weather conditions. Every creature around with good sense found shelter during rain like this.

I shot to my feet, uncaring of the fact that I was naked, and went after her. Poaka scampered behind me, doing his best to keep up in spite of his top-heavy build.

Thick bullets of water splattered my skin, and the wind torpedoed whole branches from trees. Visibility was low, but I didn’t require eyesight to guide me. The impressions from her footsteps could easily be felt by my own feet as I jogged into the thicket, and her fruity scent was thick, despite the rain diluting everything around me. Years of relying on instinct wouldn’t fail me now.

A painful yelp sounded, like an animal had been wounded.

“Maris!” My voice roared louder than the thunder overhead. It was the first time her name had fallen from my lips, and I hadn’t expected it to carry so much desperation.

She didn’t know this area, and the unruly landscape would make sure she wouldn’t survive it.

Once I had spoken her name, I couldn’t stop. My voice grew louder, more urgent, with each call.

Poaka jetted in front, his body compact and moving with purpose. His nose had picked up her trail, too. He hobbled through the wet earth as best he could until he stopped before some fallen brush.

I ran over as fast as I could, leaping over the tangle of branches and twigs. There she lay on the ground, a messy mass of hair and limbs strewn every which way—the same as I’d found her that fateful day on the beach. For a split second, my stomach hollowed out and dread filled the space. She wasn’t moving, and I feared the worst.

I sprang into action, gently rolling her onto her back. I couldn’t see her face clearly in the dark, but I could sense her chest expand and deflate shallowly under my hand. Relief flooded my chest, and my shoulders relaxed enough for me to draw her limp body into my arms.

Carrying her unconscious self happened far too often for my liking. She wasn’t just a person who had been beached and stranded, she was fighting things within. Things that made her behave erratically and feel like she needed to run away from them.

I cradled her gently against my chest and headed back to the hut.

What had broken her?

I didn’t think I’d ever know, but I’d do my best to protect her from it. To keep her from turning into a person without light—like me.