- Emilia -

We only walk for a few minutes before the younger kidnapper lifts me down from his shoulder and places me on the ground.

“Let me go, you fuckers!” I writhe and turn and snarl and hiss and spit, but the only effect is to keep my anger from totally giving way to the fear.

We're on a small, bare mound with no trees on it, and on the top is a rock. A very flat rock that has obviously been brought here. And now I have some idea what the shaman is planning.

My idea is confirmed when he casually takes a long, ugly-looking dagger out of his robe. The blue moonlight glints dangerously off its blade.

The shaman looks thoughtfully at it. “The Messenger receives the Gift, and then she gives the Gift of Life,” he says softly. “Of course only the shaman of the tribe could know what those gifts are. It's the ultimate test, one that no simple hunter would pass. Well, I understand that he has mated with you. But who knows how an insignificant woodsman would do that. It must be done right. And that's the Gift the Messenger receives. Before she gives the Gift of Life. Specifically, the Gift of her Life. How else can she bring the Message back to the other Women?”

I do my best to decipher what he's saying through the fog of anger and fear in my mind. He must be totally crazy. “I'm not the Messenger,” I scream. “I'm an ordinary woman!”

He smiles at me. “No woman is ordinary, and certainly the Messenger is anything but. Even if you were not the Messenger, this would only be good. For you see, I have meditated on that, too. On one hand, if you are not, there will not be any chaos of Women coming back. Some might decide that no shaman is needed if the tribe is doing well and being powerful. Now my position as shaman is safe. Further, this offer to the Ancestors would end the difficult times in our tribe. They would smile upon it once more. But it is of no concern. You are the Messenger. And now young Ed'ox will give you the first Gift. I can see that he's ready. I did promise him this in exchange for bringing you here. No reason to worry, Messenger – I will give you my Gift too, and become your Mate, right before you give me yours.” He holds the thin dagger out as if to show it to me.

The younger man lifts me again and places me on the flat rock, which I realize is an altar. Then he cuts off the rope behind my back and ties my hands to the corners of the rock. But my legs are free, and that worries me. Because I can also see that Ed'ox is ready – he's pitching a pretty big tent under his furry loincloth.

The shaman drops his long skins and reveals his pasty body underneath it. His stripes are washed-out and hardly visible. I look away in disgust. Their plan is obvious. They will both rape me, and then the insane shaman will sacrifice me to his Ancestors.

“Aaaar'ooooox!” I scream, and kick my legs again as Ed'ox tries to climb up on the altar between them.

He's too excited to avoid them completely, and I connect with one good kick to his face. He groans and grabs my ankles.

He's too strong – I can't keep him away. He grabs the waistband of my capri pants and pulls down, and I make it as difficult for him as possible. Still he manages to yank them down to mid-hip, and now it's getting critical. From the corner of my eye I can see the shaman looking on with glassy eyes and that long dagger in his hand.

I panic and scream once more, a long and piercing shriek that's fuelled by me being in fear of my life.

Ed'ox's eyes are wild above me, and he's sweating and breathing hard through his open mouth as he climbs on top of me.

Then he groans, and suddenly he's gone. I hear something heavy crashing through the bushes.

I raise my head. Ed'ox is nowhere to be seen. But there's another dark figure here now, taller and wider. And with a long sword in his hand. He's towering over the priest.

“Where is your ancient injury, Hen'ex?” he says with a voice that's so full of barely controlled rage I can hardly recognize it. “The one that is so terrible you had to be a shaman, because you could do nothing else? I can't see a trace of it.”

“Likewise I ask you,” the shaman tries in a shrill voice, “why you didn't destroy the demonic device as instructed by your holy shaman? You gave it to her! I found it among her rags. How dare you disobey the Ancestors! I cast you out!” He takes a step closer.

It's clearly a ruse. “Ar'ox!” I exclaim. “Watch out! He's got a dagger!”

The shaman swipes his hand across Ar'ox's face. “Outcast!” Then he makes a stabbing motion at his stomach. Ar'ox steps away and neatly inserts his sword into the shaman's abdomen. The shaman sags as his knees go limp, and I can see the insane look in his eyes.

“Out ... cast ...” he sighs, and then he slides off the sword and falls to the ground as a shapeless blob of white.

Then Ar'ox turns to me, and I squeal. “Your face! He cut you!”

He touches his finger to his face and looks at it. “Suitable punishment for my stupidity.”

He cuts the string holding me and takes me into his strong arms. I hold onto him for dear life and sob against his chest. “He going to murder, offer me to Ancestors!”

“He must have been possessed by a demon,” Ar'ox says darkly. “He did change through the years, especially after he became shaman. But he mostly made a fool of himself. I didn't think he was this crazy.”

We just stand there for a while as he holds me and I try to calm down.

Then he lets me down and hands me my pouch. “I found this.”

I wipe my eyes. “Then you also see Alice? You help?”

“I help.”

I get my knife out of the pouch and neatly cut a square of fabric from my new tunic. It pains me, but this is more important. Then I use it to wipe some of the blood off Ar'ox's face. Hen'ex gave him a cut along one cheek, and I think it's going to leave a scar. But one more won't matter.

He impatiently takes me in his arms again and holds me so tightly I can hardly breathe, but right now I don't mind it.

I melt into him. “Thank you. I thought I was dead.”

“You're safe now. I will take you to your tribe. Your home.”

I sniffle and look up at him. “You will?”

“I will. I have no tribe.”

I just stare at him for a moment. “You not mean ... he cast you out? But he's crazy!”

Ar'ox looks over at the dead priest. “Crazy. But a shaman. I'm an outcast.”

“Nobody heard it,” I try. “No need tell anyone.”

He looks in the direction of the village. “I heard it.”

“But ... you can't be serious! He's insane, Ar'ox! Possessed!”

He squeezes my shoulder. “And the shaman of the tribe. I can't live with this secret. There was someone else here, too.”

I look around, but there's no sign of Ed'ox. “Where he is?”

“Oh, I tossed him into the bushes.”

He points. The clump of reddish bushes is at least forty feet away. I see something moving there. There's a brief rustle in the growth, followed by a blood-curdling scream. I see a figure crashing through the bushes away from us, making terrible noises of fear and pain.

And then someone else is coming out of the undergrowth.

“Alice!” I yell in happiness as she bounces up to me and looks up at me with those red eyes. She has something in her hand, and she reaches it to me. In the dark I can't quite see what it is before I almost touch it, but then I snap my arm back. “That someone's finger!”

Ar'ox stares after the figure that's still noisily and desperately running away. “Ed'ox,” he states. “But he can be happy he's still alive after trapping a gray ghost and then attempting to force himself on that ghost's friend.”

I take a moment to compose myself. I have a feeling I should be trembling in some delayed reaction to what almost happened here. And about what actually did happen. And I am a little shaky. But not as bad as I'd have guessed. I think this planet has hardened me, and I don't mind it.

Ar'ox places his sword back in his belt and takes both my hands. And for the first time since I met him, he suddenly has an adorable shyness about him. “Emilia. When I was young, we learned about the women and men. From the times when we still had women, of course. Sometimes what would happen is that a woman and a man would be mates, and they would decide to be mates for life. They would live together and agree to always be as one. As I recall, it's called 'marriage'. The shaman would bless their union in front of the whole tribe and there would be witnesses. Indeed a whole ceremony would be arran-”

“Yes,” I break him off. “I know what it means to get married.”

He arches his eyebrows. “You do?”

I laugh at his obvious surprise. “Yes! Of course. We have that where I come from, too. They become husband and wife, and from then they one forever.” I cross my fingers to illustrate. Hey, he hasn't been to Earth. 'Forever' works for me – I'm not going to tell him about divorce.

“Ah. Yes. That makes this easier. Emilia. I know this is outrageous. I'm an outcast with no tribe and no shaman to do the blessing. But so many outrageous things have happened since I met you that one more seems just appropriate.”

He pauses, and I hide a smile. He's clearly rehearsed this whole speech, and he's so boyishly shy that I've never seen anything so cute.

He takes a deep breath. “Emilia. I love you. Will you marry me?”

I see no reason to keep him waiting. There's nothing I want more. “Toh. I will.”

Then he takes me into his arms and swirls me around, his face streaked with blood. “I don't care what the Ancestors say. You're my Mate.”

“That's right,” I state as I take his face between my hands and kiss him. “But can we go somewhere else, please?” That shaman is creeping me out when he's dead, too.

“We can, my love. I know where to go.”

I smile up at him, unreasonably happy considering where I am and what has happened today and that there's a dead guy on the ground twenty feet away. But that's the effect my caveman has on me – everything else fades into insignificance when he's with me. “I think I know where.”