The Thesal and the Mank Ch. 01-02

By the time the sounds of the birds signaled day, he had covered far more territory than a typical Veshtan could. And all of it was the same.

Tomorrow night, he decided, ignoring his secrat's objections. He found a place, uncomfortable. Hungry and irritable.

#

Lawhen ran through the forest. The tall black walls of the village gates were ahead, safety.

She had left Tia behind, just left her, one of the two men catching her, throwing Tia to the ground. Tears blurred Lawhen's vision as the tried to go faster. She looked behind her and cried out.

She wasn't going to make it.

#

Dmitri became aware, snarling, silence in the jungle as he voiced it, the woman's cries in his mind. He breathed, the dream staying with him, his skin crawling, rage flowing through him from his secrat. Dmitri waited for control, his secrat teeth slowly retracting.

He was in the deep old forest of the unexplored north, huge trees ten men could link hands around to circle. The canopy was so dense here that he didn't have to search hard for cover when the sun rose, the place dim regardless, only certain small areas breaking through with sunlight.

His eyes roamed. He would need to eat, what little the animal blood gave him requiring more frequent feeding. He was supposed to go back tonight, and he had thought the idea would bring relief. But he had opened his eyes to a scene so directly out of his secrat's dream that he was momentarily uneasy, as if he had woken to find himself within it. He almost expected to see a woman running up the natural forest path toward a tall black gates, a man with yellow hair in braids pursuing.

There were the same plants, large leaves, the same trees. Not exactly the same, of course, but so similar. So strangely familiar, like that feeling you got--enukal, Veshtan called it, that strange feeling that you've been somewhere you haven't.

He hesitated. His secrat became alert, feeling Dmitri wavering. One more night wouldn't hurt, Dmitri decided, first checking to make sure he was the one making that decision, not trusting his Ornthir.

The secrat tugged at him, sending him an image of the forest, a sense of urgency.

One more night, no more dreams, and then they would return where they belonged. His Ornthir was quiet. But first Dmitri had to hunt. His nose wrinkled.

Six hours later, Dmitri was standing on the edge of a cliff looking into a hole, the steep way down not far to his left. But it wasn't just any hole. It was huge, a well, a deep cavity in the craggy rocks of a mountain so high its top was in the clouds, a formidable steep incline that went almost straight up.

And in its side, the vast hole peered out like the iris of an eye, gradients that turned black in its center, deep. Twenty Veshtan temples could have fit side-by-side in its entrance.

And his Ornthir wanted him to go in there.

He paced the cliff, his Ornthir nagging at him, both of them irritable. Dmitri didn't know if that hole had another end or if it was just a cave, and for as long as it took him to find out, he'd go hungry, twice that if it simply ended and he had to turn around and make his way back.

Darkness itself didn't bother him. He saw well in the dark, his eyes using any ambient light. The forest at night was as clear to him as it was in daylight to others. It would have to be truly dark to blind him.

But it could be truly dark down there, and as unlikely as it was, he wasn't impervious to accident. He could become trapped. His mind conjured the vision of himself at the bottom of some deep decline he had fallen into, one he couldn't scale even with a thesal's strength. Slowly starving over weeks and weeks, he and his Ornthir going insane with hunger, an agonizing death.

Dmitri made a noise of impatience and turned, beginning to scale his way down.

It took him three nights to get through to the other side of what turned out to be a very long tunnel. He sensed immense weight above him, and it was truly dark for a portion of it, slowing him. He could go faster on the return journey now that he knew there was nothing for him to fall into.

He spent the last of the way through in the mouth of the smaller end of the tunnel, in a twilight state, the sun still strong, waiting to move. He smelled water. He was very hungry now. He needed to feed, but animal blood didn't tempt him at all.

That wasn't good. His body was beginning to refuse it.

When it was dusk, Dmitri became aware. He walked out of the mouth of the tunnel and into jungle, looking very similar to the one he had left. But he did smell water. A great deal of water. Fresh water, tangy with minerals. In only a few hours, he was standing on a beach, the body of water huge.

He got lost in the beauty of it for a moment. It was hushed, primal, the lapping of the water rhythmic, cool fog slowly roiling across its surface. One of the diving water birds sounded, a haunting cry, its echo coming back, always sounding like a woman crying.

The shore was painted in the night colors his eyes saw now, deep purples and reds, mystic blues, living green, the moon reflected on the surface of the water, smelling of the plant life at its edges.

He thought he was on an island in the huge lake, the land curving on either side of him.

No map he'd ever seen had represented such a large body of water deep in the forest. But water tended to go from high places to lower, and it pooled along the way. And who would map it?

There weren't many people who would wander this far into such wild territory, nothing here that anybody wanted.

The tunnel must have gone into the mountain and under the water. He could see the dim shadows of land on an opposite shore. He really was alone here in a vast wilderness.

And for no particular reason, Dmitri remembered, feeling a jolt of irritation. To recall just how truly awful real hunger was, maybe. His eyes turned to look inland. Forest and more forest. His secrat was sending him a sense of urgency again. Dmitri walked.

All night, he explored the island. His Ornthir wasn't helping him at all. Dmitri hunted, and that sealed it, the meal messy and he was still hungry after. He would sleep on the island and in the morning, he didn't care if his secrat howled, they were going home.

He found a tall thicket by the river for the busy, chattering sound it made, soothing. He decided to stand, the cover reliable. He waited, his body quiet, a statue of a man just past the deepening shadows. It grew warmer and his second eyelid closed. Dmitri stared into nothing.

#

Dmitri became alert fast, his eyes focusing and then darting, his secrat agitated. Venom flooded his mouth. His internal time sense told him he was well into his wake cycle. His diet of animal blood was slowing him, lengthening his rest. If he didn't feed soon, in time he would find it more and more difficult to come awake, to stay awake.

He was going to be even more hungry by the time he returned to Shapir, if he made it at all. He would have to run. Starvation by animal blood ended in permanent sleep for a thesal and then death. Dmitri wasn't pleased to know it was beginning. He needed to get back to people and by the fastest route.

But something had alerted his secrat. There was some kind of disturbance close, possibly danger. Dmitri breathed in. Nothing. He was puzzled. He turned his head, searching delicately, sorting the scents.

There was the faintest trail, like nothing he'd ever smelled before. He couldn't identify it, compelling, his head turning again. That was what had woken him. It was gone. Dmitri felt a surge. That wasn't an animal.

His secrat thrummed in his head as the scent came again, a surge of recognition from the Ornthir, a wave of excitement, longing that was practically a need. Absolute urgency. The feelings were so sharp they were almost painful. The secrat was fighting to come to the surface, trumpeting, loud and demanding. In almost forty years, he'd never heard it so excited.

Dmitri's head turned, searching. He stood, facing in the direction from which the scent came, walking forward and then breaking into a run.

The scent got stronger as he ran, his Ornthir eager. Not an animal. That was a woman, but like no woman Dimitri had ever smelled before, the scent so rich it made his head spin.

He wanted to know what would give off a smell like that, his cock tightening, a sense of pressure. He realized he was panting lightly. It wasn't from running. He didn't get tired. His eyes roamed as the scent got stronger, a breeze bringing it, telling him his direction.

Dmitri slowed to a fast walk, nearer the source of the scent, and then went carefully, silent. He crouched, hunting, his instincts raised. He smelled fast water. He heard it, near the river, and then he heard a voice.

A woman's voice to go with that scent.

Dmitri stopped, cocking his head, listening. Singing, yes. He moved toward it, struggling with disbelief. A woman in the middle of the Northern Wilderness, the big nothing of it. And it was night, dark, even darker under the trees, too dark for anyone but a thesal to see.

But her scent was pulling at him, his secrat thrumming loudly. Dmitri moved forward silently, stopping and then moving again.

He listened, staying where he was, falling into the song a little, fascinated. He felt himself relax, the unrelenting hunger that tormented him fading for a moment, his restlessness. She was singing in a language he didn't know but that he could almost make out. It was like everything else on this journey, strange and not-strange, familiar as home and completely new.

His Ornthir was impatient with his musings.

Dmitri rose, circling around to where he knew she would be. He didn't have to worry about staying downwind. He wasn't hunting an animal. He found cover, crouching, looking out.

The source of that scent was kneeling at the river. She had a basket beside her and was washing something in her hands. Dmitri blinked, for a moment surprised she even existed, as if a part of him had expected that the evidence of his other senses would fail to appear in the flesh, would simply dissipate with a shift in the breeze. Some memory of the Ornthir that had him chasing shadows in the deep wilderness until he starved on animal blood and slept both of them to death.

From this angle, he could only see the long dark wavy fall of her hair, thick and silky, deep black, and her hands, skin pale as milk, setting an object into the basket and taking up another, scrubbing. Her efforts followed the tempo of what she was singing as people had been doing since the beginning of everything, making a tedious task lighter. Dmitri was still struggling to believe it, wondering briefly if he'd gone mad out here without noticing.

His secrat practically shoved him, a wave of impatience.

Dmitri found a better angle, the curve of the river helping. Her scent was strong now, hazing his mind, his hunger roaring through him. Her scent. The breeze blew steadily. It was all around him now, bringing a keen feeling somewhere exactly between desire and hunger, teetering exquisitely. Dmitri's body tensed, his eyes never leaving her.

He'd never had such a strong reaction to a woman's scent, and it wasn't just because he'd subsisted on animal blood for weeks. His thesal instincts were taking over, his Veshtan side submerging. He moved slowly, reaching a place almost directly across from her, crouching.

Her head was still down. On her knees, she was looking at her hands, singing the song, the line of her cheek soft and round. The woman was small and neat, her back straight, dressed lightly for how cool it was, appearing untroubled by it.

She was wearing loose crude pants ending at the knee in a soft material, a long shirt with ties that went over them. Slippers. She turned and reached for something and he looked at her hands and realized she was holding taro root, edible.

His eyes went to the basket beside her, seeing palm tips, papaya and wild yams. Wild asparagus, the leaves from lamb quarters. She had been foraging. She was washing what she had found. He saw a knife at her waist, a small belt to hold it there.

Where had he seen a knife like that before? The memory flashed briefly, unattached, vague. Dmitri was distracted. She looked up and almost straight at him, still singing the song.

Her coloring was dramatic, dark hair and pale skin, but her cheeks were lightly flushed, the color close to the surface, her lips even redder. Then he saw her eyes, large and uptilted, the color shining, a gray so light it almost looked white. Dmitri froze.

There wasn't any thesal who wouldn't recognize those eyes.

She looked down again, long black lashes. Dmitri opened his mouth, almost soundless, his secrat teeth dropping, venom filling his mouth, unable to stop it. It was a response to her scent, to the beauty of her. To the outline of her full breast in the cloth when she turned to set the root down in the basket, to the pulse beating at her throat, his second teeth slowly retracting.

He couldn't control that any more than he could control his cock hardening.

The wind shifted and the woman stopped singing, looking up sharply, her eyes reflecting the moonlight on the water of the river for a moment like thesal eyes did, a momentary flash in which they shone. She went still and then began looking around herself carefully. Her eyes stopped, gazing in his direction.

Dmitri drew back soundlessly, although he was sure of his cover. She couldn't see him. Then Dmitri recognized the motion she was making, her chin raising again. He moved away quickly. She had scented him. She had scented him, he knew she had. And her glance into the darkness hadn't been blind. What was she? Dmitri moved downwind, finding a new vantage point.

She was gone.

She had abandoned the basket, overturned, the food spilled out. Dmitri stood, going still, listening, his head turning slightly. She was moving due north, leaving the river, and she was running fast. Fleeing. He could hear her breathing, fast light steps, could smell her easily. Her scent had a flavor of fear. He could hear her heart.

He could track her with his eyes closed. She wasn't going anywhere. He broke into a run.

Dmitri was much faster, although he was surprised at how quickly she went, how silently. She was a little thing, but she ran through the dark night of the forest like she belonged to it, weaving under things, graceful, no difficulty seeing. She was obviously nocturnal, and there was nobody nocturnal except a thesal.

His secrat hadn't scented another secrat. It would have alerted him.

She must have spotted him shadowing her through the trees because her fear markers suddenly got much stronger, sharpening, his instincts answering. He was hunting her, had been hunting her since he had first scented her. She was running for cover. She had somewhere ahead she thought was safer than here.

Dmitri went faster, going around and getting ahead of her, seeing the path toward which she was heading. He followed it, approaching, and slowed. He stopped.

At the end of the path, he saw tall gates, black wood inset in stacked stone walls as dark. His eyes stayed on it for a delayed moment, something familiar about it. It must be her village. That's where she was heading. He looked back down the path and then turned and looked at the gates again, going still. He realized, all of it coming together in a moment.

Tall black gates. From his dream. Her knife, the way she looked, her desperate break for the gates all came together for him. He was in his dream, but this was happening. That wasn't possible. Dmitri turned around and planted himself in her path, waiting.

She came running lightly up the incline and saw him, getting herself stopped. She was panting. She backed away, her eyes wide, staring at him. Her cheeks were deeply flushed now, her dark

hair settling all around her. He felt a jolt of lust. Her eyes darted past his shoulder to the gates. Dmitri began to walk toward her slowly.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

He doubted she spoke his language, very much he doubted that. She cried out, despair in her voice. She turned, fleeing the way she'd come, back down the path to the river.

Dmitri pursued immediately, instinctive. He reached where she should be and she wasn't. He stopped, looking around, scenting. He wasn't breathing fast. He didn't tire. Dmitri looked up. He realized she was in the tree. He couldn't see her, but that's where she was. He grinned, walking to its base and looking up.

"Fall down, little fruit, so I can taste you," Dmitri said, enjoying the foreplay.

He jumped far and easily, catching a larger branch, lifting himself onto it and walking its thin breadth in the same motion, no difficulty balancing. He jumped from the first and caught another, making his way up.

He heard her move and then saw her hang from the branch above him, holding on. She let go and dropped, landing lightly, and then she was up and running again. His boots landed in her tracks.

She heard him, making a small fear sound, increasing her speed. She crested an incline, slowing

her.

She was trapped.

Dmitri came up the incline behind her. As she ran, the river was to her left, wide here, too wide to cross. The water was moving fast over sharp rocks. It would sweep her away and cut her up, drown her. To her right there was a slope that went down sharply and then very sharply, a potentially lethal drop to the next ledge. In front of her were tall pale blocks of stone, ruins of some kind, huge, jumbled and scattered, too steep to clamber over before he caught her.

She was looking all around herself and then she turned, facing him. Her cheeks were the prettiest color, bright eyes, her dark hair moving. Her scent was like musk and flowers, the sweetest lure, singing to him, her blood smelling rich and thick and so good. His instincts surged. She glanced at the river. He moved that way, cutting her off, her eyes darting to the hole he made to his right.

She could try to go past him, but he'd catch her and she knew it.

Her heart was pounding. He could hear it, sending a wave of need through him. She backed away as he advanced. She pulled out her knife, holding it in front of her. He stopped a small way from her, looking at her curiously.

She growled at him, a light feminine sound, a delicate rumble.

Dmitri's eyebrows went high and he released a short, incredulous laugh, surprised. Delighted, his Ornthir as pleased. The secrat was excited, very excited, giving him impatience and anticipation. Hunger.

"Come here," Dmitri said in Romini, his language, holding his hand out, walking to her.

He needed to get the knife from her first. She lunged, swiping, and he took it from her easily, letting the knife fall. She cried out, backing away. Her back hit the rock. She was crying, the smell of her fear strong.

Dmitri approached her, his eyes on her face. She had a small break in her eyebrow, a cut that had healed there. Her lips were full, a remarkable red, her features so pleasing. Her scent was everywhere this close to her. He could smell her blood, smell between her legs.

He got closer and she gave up, flattened herself with her back against the rock, shutting her eyes and turned her face away.

When he was almost touching her with his body, Dmitri stopped. He studied her. Her chest was rising and falling with her panting. He reached out and took up her silky hair, lifting a strand to his nose, scenting it. He bent, moving lower, scenting near her throat, a deep inhale. Dmitri felt it coming, couldn't stop it, his secrat sounding, a deep ripping snarl, aroused, loud even to him.

The little female startled badly, crying out in terror. Her hands went to her ears. She squatting, making herself small. Dmitri followed her down as fast, fluid and effortless, his eyes glaring into hers. She froze, staring back at him, and then she shifted her eyes down to stare at nothing, going still.