- Heidi -

I sit stiffly on Gerk and make sure that my back doesn't make contact with Dar'ax legs. I still haven't processed what I saw back there. When he attacked the two Nusin, he seemed so calm and even honorable, not attacking them when their backs were turned and giving them every chance to defend themselves. But that last one, the one that was throwing spears at me ... it was as if Dar'ax went insane for a moment. Just like he did before, with that deadbite that attacked me.

I'm starting to realize what his mission is and what he wants with the Nusin tribe. It's not something nice, that's for sure. It frankly looks like he wants to kill them all. Fine, that tribe doesn't look like the best or most decent gang there ever was. That raid on the peaceful village was pretty good proof of that.

I'm strangely disappointed. I wanted something better for this great guy, a mission that was worthy of him. Simple, brutal slaughter seems so beneath him. I think I was secretly hoping that he was planning something constructive, not just to kill. This planet is so full of death already.

But whatever problem he has with them, he's just one person, and they are at least fifteen. I don't know what he thinks the outcome could be.

Of course, if he intends to use Gerk as some kind of war machine, then the odds are firmly on his side. But what just happened doesn't make me confident that Gerk can be used like that. He seemed pretty clueless about the fact that we were being attacked.

I hide a yawn behind my hand. It's been a long day, and the sun is setting. I wouldn't mind resting now. I should be hungry, too, I guess. But that last display of Dar'ax's anger against a dead human took my appetite away.

Dar'ax growls and Gerk comes to a halt. The caveman climbs down, and so do I.

Before long we have another hut and a fire with an expertly prepared turkeypig sizzling on it, as well as a salad of leaves and herbs that I've collected and rinsed.

We haven't said a word to each other since the Nusin thing, but I've mellowed since then. Dar'ax has had a hard life, and I'm not sure I should judge him too harshly. I've also been known to have a hot temper sometimes.

Still I pick at my turkeypig, not really relishing the flavor of meat right now. Instead I chomp on the salad, making a note that not all of these innocent-looking leaves go that well together and that someone really should develop some kind of vinegar-y dressing for it.

I point to Dar'ax's upper arm. “Why fabric around? Is special for Dar'ax tribe?”

He glances at it. “No.”

I'm not in the mood for his one-syllable replies, and I'm not going to give up here. “Then why?”

He looks at me in that way he has, and most people would probably look away to avoid meeting that piercing gaze. But I can take it now. I've had some practice.

He shrugs and loosens the knot and unwraps the cloth, and I have to catch myself to not gasp when I see the skin underneath. It's an angry, red splotch around a dark center that's clearly infected by something.

I move around the fire and sit down beside him. He tries to pull the fabric back over the infested wound, but I can see that this needs something done to it, so I pull it back down.

“You have for long?”

He shrugs. “A while.”

I can see that. It's not a pretty sight. “How much days?”

He takes a long time answering. “Many.”

I don't know if he's correcting my choice of words or just giving me another superficial answer. “Fine. How many days?”

“Two hundred.”

I hold on to his arm studying the wound in the flickering fire. It's nasty, but not hopeless. “You had wound for two hundred days?”

“Yes.”

“How you get?”

“Nusin.”

“Nusin spear?”

“Yes.”

“Is painful?”

He doesn't answer.

I put one finger on the hot, red skin and apply light pressure. Unhealthy-looking fluid seeps out of the cut, and Dar'ax groans.

“Is painful?” I repeat unnecessarily, but come on. This is no time for misplaced male pride in not caring about obviously serious injuries.

“Yes,” he admits.

Hm. It looks to me as if that wound needs a good cleaning and some of the paste that the girls and I have often used against infections, with really good results. I doubt it's up to totally curing this, but it's worth a shot.

I get up and place one hand on his shoulder. “Brave warrior sit. Heidi go collect something.”

I don't want to go too far into the jungle, but with Gerk still close, I don't think any predators will try to attack me. In the light from the fire I can identify some of the bushes that carry those leaves. I've done this many times before, so I've got the leaves ground up into a fragrant, green paste in no time. It's a slightly different concoction than I used on his deadbite wounds, and I hope it's more potent.

I kneel beside Dar'ax and study his injury closer. There's probably something lodged inside, and that's what's infecting it. A small piece of the spear, probably. Or maybe it was dipped in something nasty before the Nusin threw it. Well, it's not like I'm going to attempt surgery here in the jungle, although looking at his wound, something in me wants to cut it open and clean it properly. What can I say, I'm weird. Or maybe being on this harsh planet for so long has burned all the squickiness out of me.

I gently take hold of Dar'ax's arm and apply the paste without touching it with my hand. I work carefully and slowly, talking a little with him at the same time. Since I'm not saying anything important, I might as well speak English.

“Let's see about getting this fixed for you ... there, feel that?” I purr close to his ear as I work. “Don't worry, it's just this twig. Yeah, I removed the bark from it so it's really clean and fresh. It might sting a little, but I only use it to apply this nice paste. It's very fancy. Not touched by human hands. We'll bring it back to Earth and sell it. 'Alien wound cleaning paste'. From outer space. Three hundred bucks an ounce? Sounds about right to me. We'll be billionaires in no time. Then we'll just buy a jungle island somewhere and relive these days together. Sounds good, right? Just like here. Except we'll get coffee and tampons and I'm thinking maybe an airport and a branch of Wendy's? A Nordstroms might come in handy, too.”

I'm just absentmindedly making up the nonsensical stuff, and it's probably more for my sake than for his. To him it must just sound like a soft babbling. Still, it seems a natural thing to do right now.

The fire flickers and sends a warm light over us, the air is balmy and the stars are coming out above us. It's as nice an evening as I've ever had on this planet, and despite the action earlier, I'm feeling peaceful.

I've had some time to come to terms with what I saw back there, too. I don't know what might have happened in Dar'ax's life. He might have good reason for his anger issues.

Right now, I have a probably pretty feminine need to nurture this huge, honorable warrior who's saved my life so many times that the abduction itself seems unimportant and small by comparison. Hey, I am a woman, and sometimes it can be good to go with the flow.

When I'm done, his arm has a thick layer of drying, green paste, and it smells pretty good. Fresh and wholesome. And even if it won't cure him, at least it can't hurt.

“There you go,” I say and apply the last of the paste. “We'll just see how that works. If there's any improvement, I'll just keep applying it every day.”

I clean my hands and sit down beside him.

He looks at me for a long time, clearly pondering something.

Then, to my astonishment, he slowly takes my hand in his.

“The Nusin,” he says in a voice that's more hoarse than usual. “The Nusin ...” He goes quiet again.

“Yes?” I prompt softly, squeezing his hand so he knows I'm here and that I support him.

“The Nusin killed my tribe. The whole tribe. They only left me.”

I squeeze his callused hand, hard. He's about to tell me something important. And I'll be right here for him. “Two hundred days ago?”

“No. Longer ago.”

Shit. He's been alone in the jungle for a long time. “How long?”

He holds up all his fingers.

“Ten months?”

He curls one finger.

“Nine months?”

“Years.”

This time, I can't stop the gasp. “You been alone in jungle for nine years?!”

“Yes.”

I'm stunned. He has to be in his mid-twenties now, so that means he's must have only been a teen back then. And still he's stayed alive. In this insanely brutal jungle. I can't quite wrap my mind around it. It shouldn't be possible.

But I don't want him to clam up again, so I take his hand with both of mine and squeeze. “You tell Heidi,” I whisper right into his ear. “Is safe. Heidi listen.”

He takes a deep breath. “My tribe was good. We had large caves and eight Lifegivers. Many hunters. Many boys who would continue the tribe. Big stores of food, for many seasons. No Bigs nearby. A wise chief and a kind and conscientious shaman who carefully tended to the Lifegivers and made sure the young boys were well cared for.”

He's quiet as he thinks, and I lean my head on his shoulder to get him to continue.

“It was the rainy season, just like now. Rain for many days. Swamps will form, rivers will run wide and full. Hunting can be hard. But our tribe – the Bykri tribe – always prepared for it and filled the food stores so we didn't have to hunt at all while the rains lasted. It was a time for doing other things. Making new weapons, repairing the old, making garments, brewing nice drinks that would cool the blood when the weather got warmer. It was my favorite season when the rains would start. Not so dangerous, no need to go out into the jungle to hunt Bigs and Smalls.”

He leans forward to rearrange the fire and put more dry branches on it.

It's just the two of us. Gerk has gone into the jungle again, and Dar'ax looks around to check for predators before he sits down.

“We always had guards, of course. We knew that not all the tribes were our friends. But we also knew our neighboring villages. They were all respectful, all mostly friendly. The Nusin lived not far away, and we tended to pretend we didn't see them if we met them in the jungle. They also ignored us. They have yellow stripes, like us. But not quite like us. We were not friendly, but also not enemies.”

He sighs. “Then one night it was getting dark. One guard shouted the alarm signal, but it was too late. Men came out of the jungle and cut down everyone who defended us. They had put soot all over themselves to be hard to see in the night. There were very many of them. We had more tribesmen, but most of them didn't carry their swords with them at all times during the rainy season, which was much calmer than other times. I woke up right before shaman Sai'ex came into the cave where we boys were sleeping. We woke everyone up, and Sai'ex quietly led us to the edge of the jungle. He must have realized what was about to happen.”

Dar'ax stares into the fire, lost in memories that can't be pleasant. I squeeze his hand again, but I'm not going to make him rush this. If he's been alone for so long, then this is probably the first time he tells anyone about this. He'll do it the way he wants.

“It turned out later that the Nusin tribe's village had been flooded by a nearby river,” he finally goes on. “The river changed its course after all the rain and took with it all their huts and their Lifegivers. They never had any caves. So instead of seeking refuge with their neighboring tribes, they decided to take over someone else's village. And ours was the best one.”

A sound from the jungle makes Dar'ax raise his head and look around the clearing. He's tense for longer than necessary. He's trying to avoid something in his story.

His silence drags on, but I think I know where this needs to go now. “The shaman woke you up?”

“Our priest. The shaman. Sai'ex. He woke us up and we knew something was terribly wrong. There was such an urgency to his moves. He led us out of the cave. All around us there was fighting and screaming and dying. Black shapes with black spears in the night ... And I noticed that there was a strange light coming from the Lifegiver enclosure, as if they were on fire. But I thought, that would mean someone had set fire to them, and that would be impossible. Too evil. The Lifegivers were sacred. I was young and had no idea what the Nusin could be like. But they would rob even the unborn of their lives ...”

His voice has changed a little, and when I glance up at his face, his cheeks are wet. The emotion in his voice and the mental imagery in my mind are sending tears to my eyes, too. I squeeze his hand again. “Go on.”