Barbarian Mine (Ice Planet Barbarians #4)(11)

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A week later



I sniff my armpit and wince. “That is a not so fresh scent.”

“Repeat?” Rukh says from across the cave as he scrapes a fresh hide.

I wave him off. “Just talking to myself.” I’ve taught him the word ‘repeat’ so he can ask me to restate things, but I’m not going to go into explicit detail about how smelly I am. Not when he’s not exactly a fragrant blossom himself.

It’s been a long week. I make another chalk notch on the wall, just because I like counting the days. 7 sunrises and sunsets of back-breaking work. 7 days of skinning, smoking meat, weaving baskets, and whatever other chores I can possibly think of. Seven days of curing hides with their own brains, seven days of sweaty, bloody, gross work and not a single bathtub in sight. I enviously think of the big heated pool in the center of the tribal cave. I’ll never see that again, and right now, something like that sounds pretty damn nice.

Rukh doesn’t seem to mind my smell, but, well, he’s Rukh. I don’t know if he’s ever had a bath, so of course he doesn’t mind if I stink. The sad thing is? I’m getting used to his smell thanks to the close quarters. At night, he comes and lies down beside me and I happily cling to him, dirty skin and all, because he’s as warm as a furnace.

We also dry hump and pet each other to orgasm every night. I’m pretty sure it’s not normal – we haven’t even kissed – but Rukh seems pleased, and it seems to be keeping my cootie from totally flipping out on me. The urge to mate is harder to avoid every day, and now when Rukh goes hunting, I have to masturbate several times in quick succession just to ease the ache.

I am freaking exhausted.

With a sigh, I give the dvisti hide in front of me another hard scrape with a bone knife. My plan for blankets is coming along well. In another week or so, I’ll have a luxurious bed full of crudely-tanned furs, but it’ll be warm at least.

And then I will just sleep for days.

“Har-loh?” Rukh squats beside me and offers his waterskin.

I smile at him gratefully and take it. It’s not his fault I’m needy and require so much more crap than he does. “I’m just tired.”

“Tired?” he repeats, not understanding.

I mime a yawn and feign sleep. “Tired. And dirty. I want a bath.” I think for a minute, then glance up at him. It’s still early in the day and rather sunny out for Not-Hoth. “Is there a stream near here? Water? For washing?” I mime and say the words slowly until he grasps what I want.

Rukh nods and goes to get his snowshoes, then gets my pair. We’re going out.

He straps them to my feet, then his own. It’s kind of funny to think of a naked barbarian running around in nothing but shoes, but lately, the snows have been getting higher and higher. I worry that winter is going to suck hard, since everyone keeps telling me this is the milder season.

And if we’re stuck in a tiny cave together and a blizzard hits? It won’t matter how dirty or smelly we are – I’m going to end up tackling the man. I’ve learned that when I’m in the heat of the moment? The cootie doesn’t care about a bit of dirt.

Baths are definitely imperative. I admit, I’m a little curious to see what Rukh looks like without all the caked on grime.

We head out, and I bring a bag of smoked, dried meat, the waterskin, and a knife. The snowshoes take some getting used to – Rukh’s are nothing more than three large prongs that leave a chicken-like mark in the snow. Mine are made from a dozen ribs or so and leave little star patterns as I walk. They help, and it’s easier to walk when I’m not sinking two feet with every step.

Rukh leads me into the next valley. It’s clear he could walk faster, but he hovers around me to make sure that I’m all right. Through our stilted conversations, I’ve indicated to him that I’m not leaving, so I think he trusts me a bit more now. We’re no longer captor and captive but more…friends. At least, I like to hope so.

I smell the sulfurous scent of rotten eggs before I see the water itself. Not-Hoth is riddled with hot springs, which makes me think the core of the planet is pretty seismically active. Which would be scary…if I had a choice about living here. I don’t, so I just don’t think about it. The hot springs are nice, though.

Rukh leads me down toward it, and we pass by a bush covered with bright red berries. I recognize these and stop to pluck a handful. The barbarians use them as soap, and to drive away the inhabitants of local streams.

“No,” Rukh says when he sees me gathering the fruit. He touches his tongue and makes a face. “Har-loh, no.”

“They’re not for eating,” I tell him. “They’re for washing. You’ll see.” I put them in my bag and follow him.

We approach the stream, and I see long, bamboo-like reeds sticking out near the banks. Georgie and Liz both have warned me about the fish they call ‘face eaters’. They pretend to be plants and when you step close enough, piranha-time. As we get closer, Rukh puts a hand on my shoulder and squats, rubbing his chin as he stares at the stream. It’s obvious he knows it’s dangerous, and he’s not quite sure what to do. He wants to please me, but he also doesn’t want me to get eaten.

No wonder the man’s so dirty. I feel a twinge of pity for my poor barbarian.