Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
With my decision to follow renewed, I stay on his trail. I keep back so he doesn’t see me. He is moving at a steady walk, which is good for me, though it does mean I occasionally have to limp-sprint to keep up. He knows where he is going, and soon his path joins up with a stream, which means now I have water.
I watch him pluck various berries and leaves, and dig roots up from the ground, and I gather the same. There’s no guaranteeing that they are safe for me as they are for him, but I don’t have the luxury of a product label. All I can do is nibble a little and then wait to see if I feel sick or not.
I feel sick a lot over those first couple of days, but I am getting calories, and I am starting to realize that there are things I can eat. There are leafy vegetables with thick, starchy roots, and I can stomach them. They are better cooked, I learn when I quickly forage through his camp, which I do every morning after he leaves.
I start to get comfortable with this routine of being his shadow. I am being driven by very basic instincts now. I know he’s hostile. I know he doesn’t want me near him, but hunger is a powerful motivator.
One night, I simply cannot wait until the next day. I wait until he falls asleep and then I creep in and help myself to the little scraps of food he didn’t finish. Probably the food he intended to eat for breakfast. It is the first cooked meal I have had since the crash, and it makes me feel happy and sleepy. Very sleepy.
I crawl away from him and the fire and into the bushes, curling up a few feet from him, very well fed. I tell myself I’ll stay alert. I won’t let myself sleep too long.
I wake up to the wet smell of an extinguished fire, alone. Oh no. I took his breakfast and now he has moved on without making any of the usual sounds that wake me.
It is with the greatest of relief that I see him going down a hill in the distance. He’s quite a way ahead of me, so I run to catch up and stay in his wake.
I slept so close to him last night. There was every chance he might have seen me. The bushes that seemed to provide a lot of cover in the night did not do much in the light of day at all.
He didn’t kill me. He didn’t hurt me. He let me sleep. He also left me to die, but I don’t know if he understands the stakes here. I don’t know how sentient he is. They do call these creatures savages, after all. He is as much of a mystery to me as I am to him.
This goes on for several days. I stay out of his way, but I stay close. I become accustomed to crouching in the flickering camp light next to him, keeping an eye on him to make sure that he is still asleep. He’s so large. At least six foot five tall, and twice as broad as any human man. The white tips of his lower fangs extend up over his upper lip in a way that’s kind of cute.
He is handsome. He has the only face I have to look at here, and I find myself looking at it a lot. Gazing at it, really. I find myself imagining what conversations we might have if we spoke the same language. I even imagine what it might be like for him to smile at me.
None of that ever happens. His face is impassive in his sleep, and I am aware that I am to him like a stray kitten following a hostile hunter. I’m dependent and weak and an unwanted problem.
I make sure not to fall asleep near his fire again, and I make extra sure never to sleep later than him. I sleep after he sleeps, and I wake before he wakes. I follow his every breath, avoid his every glance, spare myself his every glare. I live distant from him, but with him.
Fssst fssst fssst…
I hear a light rubbing sound, gossamer wings rubbing together. It doesn’t sound like a threat, but I sense a blur of motion, and I am knocked off my feet before I realize what is happening. Sharp fangs sink into my shoulder. I scream, because I am being eaten, and like all prey I am made to shriek that horror to the world.
Finally, he comes to my rescue.
3
Kail
The human animal is already losing consciousness as I pack her wounds with healing herbs and set her carefully next to the fire. She is unaware of my actions as I remove the scraps of fabric clinging to her. She might call them clothing. They are of no use in protecting her against the elements, and their filthy condition is likely to cause or spread infection.