Barbarian Mine (Ice Planet Barbarians #4)(2)

Kneeling down, I begin to hack at the base of the first tree. The knife sinks in with a squishing noise, and sap squirts out onto the snow. Ugh. I wrinkle my nose and keep cutting, determined. Kira’s gone, and they’re wounded, so I’m the only one that can help.

The snow crunches nearby.

I stand upright, surprised. It almost sounded like a footstep. “Hello?” I turn around and look. “Aehako?”

No one’s there. The snowy landscape is barren, nothing but rolling drifts as far as the eye can see.

I must be imagining things. I’m not alone out here in the wild. There’re creatures everywhere, or so the hunters tell me. It could be one of the porcupine looking things. Or maybe it’s a rabbit. Or…whatever the rabbit equivalent on this planet is.

I can’t be a silly chicken and freak out at every little sound, though. I turn back to the tree and continue hacking at it.

I hear the crunch of snow again, and a moment later, a heavy thudding. My blood feels like it’s surging in my ears, and I press a hand to my head, wincing.

No, wait. That’s not thudding or drumming. My heart is calm. Is it…purring?

Something slams into the back of my head, and I pitch forward into darkness.

Even there, the strange purring follows me.




RUKH



I move through the snow soundlessly, even though I am trembling with excitement. My heart slams in my chest, pulse racing as if I have sped across the land instead of stalking my prey. There is a whirring sound, almost like the clicking noises the great grey beasts in the salt water make, but different.

It is coming from my chest. From me.

I don’t know what this means. All I know is that I’ve smelled the strange creatures surrounded by the bad ones, the ones my father told me to avoid. There are two strange things traveling with the bad ones – they are so furry it is impossible to tell what their bodies look like, but one has a shock of orange-red mane that fascinates me. I’ve followed them since last night, and now the reddish-maned one is alone.

And I…panic. When it starts to turn, I club it over the head.

It collapses to the ground in a heap of multicolored fur. A bone knife, similar to my father’s, falls from its hand.

I rub my thrumming chest, confused.

As I look down at the creature at my feet, I see…it’s female. It’s strange and different from the bad ones. There are no ridges on the brows, and the skin is the soft, pale color of a dvisti’s underbelly instead of a healthy blue. It’s speckled with dirt, but there’s no mistaking the feminine tilt of the lips, or the delicate features. Frowning to myself, I put a hand on the thick furs of its chest to feel for teats. To my surprise, the furs part. It’s a fur covering of some kind, not part of the creature at all. It’s wearing them like I sometimes wear a covering in the coldest weather.

My hand brushes over one of the teats and my fingers graze one pebbled nipple.

The creature moans and the thrumming in its chest grows louder.

My own body responds, my cock immediately hardening and aching with the need for release. I’m surprised – and more than a little appalled at how my body is responding. This thing is ugly and pale. Why am I reacting to it like I do the strange, unsettling dreams I sometimes have? With one hand, I push my thrusting cock aside. I don’t have time to deal with this. I gather up the unconscious creature and put its knife in my bag, then I sling the creature over my shoulder and begin to carry it back to my cave.

I’ll decide what to do with it there.



? ? ?





The creature remains unconscious. I set it down in one corner of my cave and ponder what to do with it. It’s a her, I decide. It’s soft and pretty and has teats. My cock still aches with need, and as I pace, I stroke my hand up and down the length of it, because it feels good.

I don’t know what to do. This female thing has unsettled me. It’s not food, like my father taught. She was with the bad ones, but she ran away. Does that make her good, I wonder?

I close my eyes and squeeze my hand over the tip of my cock. It feels so good that my entire body shudders, and the strange thrumming in my chest grows louder.

I wish my father were here.

He’s been dead for many, many seasons. I was a tiny kit when he died, and I’ve been alone ever since. Father always had answers, though. He would know why my chest is thrumming or why my cock aches around the female. A surge of loneliness sweeps over me. Sometimes I hate that I have no answers, only questions, and no one to ask.

I continue stroking my cock until it spits forth wetness, and my body finally relaxes. I watch her as I do it, and I tell myself it’s because I’m curious. Her chest seems to be thrumming along with mine, so whatever is causing this affects her, too. I wipe my wet hand in the dirt floor of the cave and then crawl toward the unconscious female.

My movements are stealthy, as if any moment she might wake up and attack me. She’s small and still, and I wonder if I’ve hurt her worse than I realized. For some reason, the thought stabs at me, and I lift her head, examining her skull. Underneath the reddish-gold floss of her mane, she has a lump, but otherwise seems to be fine. I press my cheek against her nose and feel her breath. Still alive. Her eyes are closed, her breathing even.

I feel guilty that I’ve hurt her. I shouldn’t have. She’s mine. But I panicked. I do have some pain root, though. It’s good for making blood clot up and she’s got a gash on her head. I set her down gently and head over to my herb bag and find the dried root. I chew it into a mash, then return to the female and daub it onto her head wound. She will be glad for it later.