- Emilia -

They still haven't repaired the wall. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. This tribe needs some serious shaping up. But right now, it suits me fine.

I squeeze through the narrow opening, and Alice casually jumps over the twelve feet high wall.

So now we're outside the village and the danger begins. It's nighttime, and that's not really ideal. But the little moon is in the sky, and it casts a light that's just about enough to see by before my eyes get used to the darkness.

I walk around the outside of the wall until I can see the closed gate, and then I set out in the direction that we came from when I first arrived here, coming from the hot springs. I'll have to try to retrace our steps and hope that at some time I'll find a hill or mountain that's tall enough to let me see Bune in the distance.

You'd think that for a village with only one gate, there'd be a well-trodden path or even road leading from it and into the woods, but there isn't. The dark edge of the jungle looks the same in every direction, none of them inviting.

But I see no reason to hesitate. My knife is ready in my pocket, and thankfully Alice seems to understand what I want, so she walks in front of me. If the other beings here have just a fraction of the fear for her kind that the tribe has, then my chances of getting back in one piece improves a lot.

We make our way in among the trees. The air is hot and humid in here, and there are noises from various creatures everywhere. I'm glad I can't see them.

Alice trundles ahead of me on the flat ground. She walks upright on her four kangaroo-like legs, and she's folded most of her arms in along her body. I guess that's the kind of thing that you have to figure out when you have eight arms that can get in the way.

She suddenly veers off to the right and then bends down to pick something up from the ground. I stop. It looks like a handful of berries-

Then she screams and clutches the hand, and all the berries spill out of it as she's roughly lifted up into the air.

It takes me a second to see what's happened – it's another trap! And this one is worse than the first, because this snare was tied to a young tree that had been forced to bend, and now it has straightened and pulled Alice up with it. She dangles from one wrist with her paws a couple of feet off the ground, mewling with fear and pain.

“Fuck!” I run over and jump up to grab the taught, cruel string with my hand and bring the tree back down. It bends a little, but it takes more weight than I have to get it far enough down to where Alice has her feet on the ground.

Then I hear movement behind me and I whirl around.

“I thought you'd come this way, Messenger.” It's that creepy priest and another tribesman, much younger. They're coming towards us, very calmly.

“Cut down Alice,” I demand, angry at seeing my friend in pain and digging for my knife with one hand. “The Messenger commands you.”

“And I will obey,” the shaman says as he stops in front of me, his voice so silky that it sends a shiver down my spine. “In the morning, when it's dead. It will provide good target practice for the tribesmen. Their precision with rocks is not what it used to be, I'm told.”

“Cut her down now! Ow, you take hands off!”

The younger man grabs my hands and pulls them roughly behind my back, taking the opportunity to stroke one hand against my butt. “Soon,” he says in a voice that's thick with what I fear is arousal. “Soon.”

He shakes the knife out of my hand, and then I feel him tying my hands back there with thin string. “Take hands off! Help! Enemies!”

I yell as loudly as I can, hoping that there are still guards inside the gates.

“No one heeds strange calls from the jungle at night,” the shaman tells me with a smile that he manages to make regretful. “Many beings try to lure tribesmen into the woods.”

“Ar'ox will kill you,” I hiss and twist to get out of the other man's grip. “He'll wring your neck!”

“Attacking the shaman means he'd be cast out of the tribe,” Hen'ex says and checks that my hands are bound. “No tribesman would. And did you not say he's not the Mate anymore? After he had locked you in his cave? I think the whole tribe heard it. I certainly did, and I agree with you. But Messenger, I mean you only well. I will help you with your task. I will send you back to the Women, where you can tell them that shaman Hen'ex is your Mate.”

He looks deep into my eyes, and his stench makes me turn away in disgust.

“I not your Mate. I Ar'ox mate!”

The shaman chuckles thinly. “A Mate who locks you up in his cave and leaves the village? No, that can't be the case, Messenger. You keep testing us. And your most important test was to state that a simple hunter was your Mate. Of course the only Mate for the Messenger is the shaman himself! But don't worry. I will pass your test.”

He takes my pouch and looks through it, taking out the black pad and frowning. Then he dumps everything on the ground and starts to walk further into the woods, and the other guy pushes me forward to follow.

“It's not test, it's real! I'm not the Messenger!” I kick and struggle and twist and writhe, but the other guy is big and strong and pushes me easily.

“Ar'ox!” I yell. “Heeelp mee! It's Emiliaaaaa!”

The sound is strangely muted by the dense jungle, and I'm not even sure my screams can be heard in the village. “Aaar'ooooox!” I try again. “Enemiiees!”

But I hear no answer, and now I'm getting afraid for real. The old fear of the jungle, the one that Ar'ox banished from my mind, is now back in full force. But now it's an even colder fear.

I'm kicking and screaming, and finally I throw myself down on the ground and try to keep the two men off me with my kicking feet. But the young man easily throws me over his shoulder, and then he can walk faster.

I realize that my only hope now is that when the shaman said that Ar'ox left the village, it means that he's somewhere in the jungle. So I keep screaming and yelling in my sore throat, alerting anyone who might be close by in the middle of the night that I'm being kidnapped. And that includes any creature who'd care to be drawn here by my screams. Anything at all, giant scorpions or raptors or even not-dactyls. Yes, even them. An irox attack now would give these two kidnappers something else to think about, and there would be a slim chance that I might escape.

And even if I couldn't escape, I'd sort of prefer being killed cleanly by an honest monster than by this alien creep. Because that has to be his plan here. Whatever it is he wants to do with me, he can't let me survive it to tell the tale.

“Aaaar'ooooox!”