At Odds Ch. 01

Grunting, she struggled to lift and push him over onto his back. This wasn't an easy task and took her several attempts. The dakreeth was solid, heavy, and more than twice her size. If Max had to guess, when standing, he'd likely tower over her as well.

Still though, she finally managed and again gasped when she saw the ragged, gaping wound in his side. No wonder he appeared to be in such pain; it looked as though something had mauled him quite thoroughly. Max examined the injury as delicately as she was able and nodded her head in certainty. Yes, definitely an animal attack. Granted, she was no professional healer, but those tended to be pricey. As the town's baker, she didn't earn very much and, as a result, she had learned a thing or two about purifying and medicating animal bites, tending to other superficial injuries, as well as stitching especially deep wounds.

Troubled, she held a hand over the gash and felt a distinct heat rising up from it; and it held vastly different quality than that of the normal warmth of his surrounding skin. Infection was setting in, no doubt. She had to get it cleaned, and treated, Quickly.

Hefting a sigh, she again wondered what in the hell she was doing. As she trotted out of the cave to go fetch some water to start boiling, she assured herself with each step that as soon as she got back home, she'd tell someone about what she'd discovered.

Several hours later, with the wound cleansed, medicated, sewn, and bandaged, Max berated herself for lying. She had still kept her mouth shut, despite her earlier internal promises. The dakreeth, however, seemed to be resting a little easier. His breathing had become deeper and less labored.

Max watched him thoughtfully for awhile then glanced down at her handiwork with a dubious frown. She'd used several medicinal plants and herbs that her species had discovered on this planet years before and she wondered whether or not they would help him any. Mashing several leaves and roots into a thick paste, she'd liberally applied it to the wound just before wrapping it and it had seemed to help the swelling some.

A worried frown creased her brow. What if he reacted badly to the plants even if her people did not? Surely his body chemistry was quite different than hers. What if she'd only made things worse?

Well, there would certainly be some sign of a bad reaction by now, right? Sure there would. And, if it was a deadly poison to his species, he would hardly be sleeping so soundly. Right?

Right.

Max nodded, mouth quirking up into a small, satisfied smile. Issuing a large yawn, she realized that it'd grown much later than she would have liked and she was completely exhausted. Dragging herself up, the girl made to head back home. She got perhaps two or three steps before stopping to lean against the cave wall. Minutes later, she'd slid down the wall and was dozing back against it.

~ ~ ~

It was nearing the time of the rising suns on the third day when Jaril suddenly came to. Right away he could tell something was different. The terrible, deep throbbing ache in his side had dissipated quite substantially, and the shuddering chills which had wracked his body earlier were muted. Puzzled, he gazed up towards the shiny black ceiling of the cave he'd taken refuge in.

When he'd first staggered into this small black tomb, there had been a certain amount of rueful amusement on his part. Fitting, that he should end up here. After all, this would be a most proper place to die should the final sleep come to claim him.

As he'd lain here, he could feel the infection and rot slowly setting into his side. Simply too weak from blood-loss to make it back home or to even search for the healing plants that were abundant in this jungle, he'd tried to at least keep himself warm by making a fire before losing consciousness completely.

Looking over now, he did see a small fire smoldering, but the pattern of the kindling was different than how he would usually arrange it. Frowning, he blinked in rapid succession and tried to clear his muddled head as he struggled to piece the events back together.

Suddenly, the next memory that surfaced was being poked repeatedly in the side, which had only added to his agony. If he'd been able, he would have ripped the perpetrator's throat out with his teeth.

Gathering up what was left of his nearly spent strength, Jaril recalled steeling himself and baring his teeth in a show of ferocity that he no longer felt. Quite frankly, he'd been growing more and more tired and would have actually welcomed a released from the red haze of pain that consumed him.

He might have just given in too, if pride and the will to fight hadn't of been so deeply ingrained within him. The urge to display, defend himself and his own still swelled stubbornly in his chest even as he lay dying.

As he snarled a warning, he could feel a vague sense of surprise swirl inside his stomach as he took in the sight before him. A smallish, slender hoomun female stood there, gazing down at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Half-expecting her to run off and fetch more of the other hated invaders, Jaril merely glowered at her as fiercely as he was able before the pain overtook him once again.

Now, as he shifted on the uncomfortable stone floor, he tentatively trailed a hand down his wounded side and was taken aback as his palm came into contact with the rough fabric of the bandages. Pressing his thick fingers down, he winced as a sharp pained lanced through him. It was glassy and unpleasant, but seemed to lack the swollen, throbbing heat that it'd had the last time he'd examined it.

Reluctantly, he tentatively peered under the poultice to assess the damage. When the sharp tangy scent of familiar medicinal herbs wafted under his nostrils, he was again surprised. And it only mounted as he also took in the neat series of knots that held his torn flesh together. The surrounding skin remained inflamed and painful, but he could see where some of the infection was beginning to seep out.

It was still too early to tell, but it seemed he might be on the mend. Luckily, once the process started, his people tended to heal very quickly. If this kept up, he ought to be ready for travel in a few hours. Maybe less.

Relief made him feel rather giddy and he laid his head back down, closing his eyes once more. Perhaps it was not his time to pass into the great beyond after all. Someone had tended to his wounds just before the infection had managed to take root and-

Wait.

Bright golden eyes flew back open as the dakreeth glanced around sharply. Who exactly had tended to him? Had he somehow been found by his people or-

There.

Curled up just beyond reach was the same female hoomun that he'd seen before. Jaril had almost convinced himself that she'd been nothing more than a fever-induced hallucination. Especially given the unexpected lack of more armed, male hoomuns arriving on the scene.

Had she been the one who'd attempted to heal him? And, if so, why? Didn't she realize that her people and his were at war? Was it all a cruel trick? Had he been captured for experimenting? Was this sticky mess slathered on his wound some new diabolical type of poison that only seemed to help at first? To give him false hope?

"Hoomun," he rasped, wincing as his voice seemed to catch in his throat. It was only then that he realized how dry his throat had become and how desperately thirsty he was. He felt his heart begin to pound a bit harder.

Stop it, he told himself firmly, struggling to get his heart rate back under control. Calm down. Remember your training. Now, where did you stash your supplies?

Another faint memory surfaced and the energy for self-preservation suddenly flooded back into him. Jaril sat back up and painfully reached behind a nearby boulder pile. Despite his injury, he must've still had the presence of mind to hide his belongings. After fumbling for a few seconds, he finally found what he was searching for.

His fingers made quick work of untying the laces of his water pouch, and he took a small, eager drink. Then, he forced himself to wait awhile before taking another. It was difficult but he was determined. Drinking too much too quickly would cause him to vomit the liquid right back up and he was far too dehydrated for that.

As he sipped, and slowly rehydrated himself, he could feel his mind grow a bit sharper and his senses more alert. These promising sensations helped to convince him that he'd not been poisoned, and that the familiar scent of the salve was indeed merely the same plants he used to treat similar injuries.

A sense of calm came over him then, and he returned his gaze towards the slumbering female a short distance away. Jaril was absolutely convinced that she'd been the one to aid him. Which only brought back the question of why.

Curious, he thought. Perhaps when she awakens, we can palaver. She'll explain herself and satisfy my curiosity. And then, because she eased my suffering, her death will be swift and merciful.

The male dakreeth nodded and grinned, baring frightening jagged teeth. Yes. That was only just. Moving slowly, but with much more strength and vigor than he'd felt in days, he began to make his way towards the girl.

~ ~ ~

Max stirred and grumbled softly. For some reason, her mattress was terribly, terribly uncomfortable this morning. It almost felt like she was sleeping on a bed of rocks and-

Memories flooded back and her eyes flew open. Shit! She'd fallen asleep in the damned cave. How stupid could one be?

Sitting up quickly, Max squinted in the dim light and glanced around sharply. The dakreeth was gone. Heart beginning to thunder in her chest, the girl's mouth dropped open in dismay. If he was gone, then that meant that he was feeling better than he had been. Just how quickly could these creatures heal?

And, more importantly, where was he now?

A slight scuffling from behind her sent her scrambling to her feet in a panic. Whirling around rather ungracefully, Max's alarm mounted when she saw the sight in front of her. The male dakreeth, now appearing much friskier than the previous evening, was leaning against the wall in front of the exit, watching her intently. Blocking her escape.

As she took it all in, it seemed that he was much bigger now that he was actually standing. And, it appeared her earlier assumption had been correct; he loomed over her, making her feel small and insignificant.

She hitched in a sharp breath and froze, instinct telling her not to make any sudden moves. The creature tilted his head at the sound of her small gasp, but made no attempt to approach otherwise. His intense, golden gaze traveled up and down her form with obvious curiosity. As he examined her, Max recognized the sharp intelligence swirling in those unnaturally bright eyes.

Shuddering, she realized that this was a creature capable of complex thought and it was apparent that he was thinking as he studied her. This revelation made her stomach churn uneasily, and she wondered what could possibly be going through his head right now.

She didn't have to wait long to find out. The dakreeth suddenly pointed at her with a finger ending in a sharp black claw. Flinching, she pressed her back up against the smooth wall as if it could somehow shield her. He still made no moves towards her, though, merely lowered that same finger to point at his bandaged side. It was when he spoke, though, that she received the biggest shock.

"You did?" He asked, nodding down towards the wrappings. His accent was thick, and held a certain growling undertone, but there was no mistaking the language. He was speaking in her tongue.

Swallowing dryly, Max could only nod.

At this, the dakreeth narrowed his eyes at her and frowned. She felt her knees go a bit wobbly. "Why you did?"

"I-I," Max stuttered, paused, and gulped again, her dry throat clicking audibly. Trying again, she managed to stammer out, "I-I wanted t-to he-help you."

"I need no halp from hoomun," he snarled, eyes flaring angrily.

Feeling rather vulnerable and cursing herself for not thinking to bring some sort of weapon along with her, Max cringed back against the wall and stared unhappily up at him. "Ye-yes, you did. You-you were badly hurt."

Abruptly, Jaril moved forward with a lithe swiftness that belied his size. Crossing the short distance between them, he pounced on her and snatched her upper arms, lifting her to his eye-level. Max shrieked, and began to flail in his grip. Shaking her once, sharply, Jaril shook his head and pushed his face up close to hers.

Only when she'd quieted and he had her full attention did he speak again, "You fight, I hurt."

His command of her language wasn't perfect, but his meaning was crystal clear. Instantly, Max froze again and stared at him with abject terror. It was this expression of frightened compliance that first made Jaril hesitate.

This, he wasn't used to. Normally, wild humans were immediately hostile towards them, not fearful. Even the few human captives in his village had some fight left in them.

As he pondered a bit more on it, he also realized that it was unheard of for one of them to actively help his kind. This female, though, had. It was this train of thought that gave him further pause, and likely saved her life. At that moment, Jaril decided not to kill her. It'd be much more in his favor to take her back with him for study. This sort of human behavior had yet to be documented. Perhaps they could learn something useful from her. And, he'd likely fetch a fine price for such an unusual specimen.

~ ~ ~

Despite her thrashing and kicking and biting, -really, she had turned into quite the wild beast- Jaril managed to bind her ankles together and tie her hands behind her back without harming her. And it hadn't been easy. Around her head, he'd wound a leather cord and wedged it securely between her teeth.

As this was occurring, she kept issuing the most interesting gasps, coupled with little high-pitched mewling sounds. These latter were rather appealing, but he managed to catch himself just before he smiled down at her. It just wouldn't do if his captive believed he could be swayed in any way.

Frankly, he was rather impressed with how valiantly she fought him. This little woman was stronger than she appeared, but he found himself rather hesitant to make good on his threat. Jaril wasn't terribly interested in unnecessary brutality; especially against an unarmed female. It simply held no honor. Still though, her being difficult made the throbbing in his side start up again and he was running short on patience.

"Be still," he spat, reaching behind the rock pile again. When he began brandishing a long, wicked-looking spear at her, Max's wide eyes followed the barbed tip and, once more, her struggles instantly ceased. Nodding, he lowered his weapon and patted her head. "Good. Be still."

Now then, with that done, Jaril sat back on his haunches and thought carefully. This human female had attempted to heal him. By herself. She'd brought no others with her, and he was willing to bet that she hadn't told anyone else that he was here.

No, of course she hadn't. He didn't know much about their culture, and he'd never paid much attention to any of the other captured humans, but he wagered that the girl would have been frowned upon if it was common knowledge that she had lent aid to a hostile. At the very least.

So, going by that logic, did that then mean that no one knew she was gone? Or, had she indeed told someone she was going out, just for some other reason? Would there be a search party that would come after her, should she not return?

He frowned, wishing he knew enough hoomun-speak to ask her these questions. Still though, even the uncertain threat of a search party wasn't good and urged him to take immediate action.

His village was quite a ways off from here. And, though healing, he was still wounded and wouldn't be able to cover ground as swiftly as he normally would. Not to mention the added burden of carrying her back.

Issuing a soft, thoughtful growl, Jaril wondered what he ought to do to throw them off his trail. This cave was very close to the human settlement, so he didn't even have the advantage of any sort of head start.

Grumbling, he couldn't help but berate himself at the shabby job he'd done on this scouting mission. He was better than this. How had he'd been so careless as to get between a mother balor and her cub without noticing? It'd been sloppy, there was no getting around it, and it had almost cost him his life.

Jaril shook his head, trying to dispel the unpleasant memories, before glancing back down at his prize. The hoomun female lay bound and gagged in front of him, but her baleful glare told him that she was quite angry about it. Again, he found he had to hold back an amused smile. She was certainly feisty. Something that had always appealed to him.

Don't fret, girl. He thought. It will only be until we are far enough into the jungle. Then, even if you run, there will be no escape.

That is to say, if they weren't followed and captured first. Slowly, as he watched her, a plan came to mind. Max let out a muffled shriek when he suddenly reached out and tore her t-shirt down the front.

Instantly, her struggles started up again with renewed ferocity. Unpleasant, graphic images of him brutally raping her while leering down at her with those horrible, sharp teeth began flashing through her mind.

Paying her panic no heed, Jaril flipped her onto her stomach and did likewise to the back of her top. When he'd ripped it completely away, leaving her in her sports bra and cargo pants, she began to sob behind the gag. Jaril tilted his head curiously at the muffled whimpering, but other than that, ignored it.

Little by little, Max managed to get herself under some sort of control. Nothing else was happening. In fact, the dakreeth now seemed to be more interested in her shirt than her. She watched uneasily as he tore it a few more times, then held it up to examine once more. Nodding once, he glanced back down at her and drew a previously hidden dagger from the waistband of his breechclout.

As he approached her again, weapon in hand, she began to shake her head in negation and her mind began a panicked mantra. He's going to slice me apart and slowly kill me oh god please help me someone help me please please plea-

However, after a quick flick of the blade, all he'd done was open up a small, mostly painless cut in the fleshy part of her upper arm. It earned a small flinch from her, but nothing more. The dakreeth watched as a small rill of blood welled up along the sides of the cut and slowly trickled down her arm.

Confused, Max observed as he resheathed the blade and began to dab her torn shirt at the stream, mopping the blood up. When he'd done this to a good portion of the t-shirt, he again held it up to study momentarily, before smiling in obvious satisfaction. To Max, it appeared as if her top had been the victim of a horrific mauling. At this sight, she felt her skin grow cold.

He's gonna to kidnap me, she realized, her breath picking up speed. He's gonna leave that shirt behind, and everyone will think that I was torn apart, dragged off and eaten by a balor. No one will be the wiser. And no one will think the dakreeth had anything to do with it.

She began to shake again. Animal attacks were not an unusual occurrence here. As well as the smaller game creatures, large predatory beasts also dwelled in the deep jungle. Most often when someone was taken, all the humans would find of them would be a scrap of bloody cloth here and there. If that. The person's body was usually never recovered.