At Odds Ch. 01

Her eyes trailed back up towards her captor, and little needles of dread began to stab at her stomach. Jaril seemed to sense it and glanced down to meet her gaze. After a moment of mutual staring, he offered her a strangely knowing grin. Almost as if he could hear her train of thought.

This enemy wasn't a primitive, mindless savage. He was cunning. And smart.

Max began to silently weep behind her gag once more.

~ ~ ~

Jaril was pleased.

He'd jogged a convincing distance away from the cave, but remained close enough to the human dwelling to where her garment would likely still be discovered. At this site, he ravaged the bushes and surrounding thicket to make it look like a violent struggle had taken place. Ripping a small shred of the bloodied shirt, he rubbed it in the dirt and snagged it on one of the broken branches.

A few yards away, he did the same with the rest of her shirt. When he went back to examine his ruse, it seemed convincing enough to him. After all, Jaril had also seen his fair share of beast maulings.

Glancing up at the sky, he arched a brow and flattened his mouth. It was growing dark already. He'd left the girl in the cave quite a while ago. She was still bound, but he'd tried to make her as comfortable as he could. She'd been shivering, so he'd banked the fire. Lying on the cold ground had been uncomfortable for him, so he'd also sat her up against the wall.

Throughout this, she hadn't resisted, but there was no mistaking the hatred in her eyes. That was something that was usually recognized no matter what the species.

Quite honestly though, his own feelings of rancor against her had lessened quite a bit. He was one of the more reasonable males, and tended to think logically.

Enemy or not, Jaril understood that she had likely saved his life, and, aside from some understandable struggling, she'd been otherwise compliant. For that, he at least owed her some small comforts.

A small rustling to his left made his ear twitch, and in one smooth motion, he turned and threw his dagger towards the source of the sound. A strangled squawk told him he'd been successful.

Trotting over, he rummaged around in the underbrush until he found a plump, nice-looking jungle hen impaled on his dagger. Jaril licked his lips and grinned hungrily. It would make them a nice supper for later.

First things first however. It was time for them to leave. The dakreeth tied the dead fowl to his waistband and began to quickly jog back towards the cave. Moving swiftly and silently, it didn't taken him long to arrive.

Upon entering, he saw that his naughty little prisoner had managed to wriggle more than halfway down the passageway and had been busily chewing at her gag. Her hands and ankles remained bound, but when he later inspected them, he'd find the flesh rubbed raw on all of them.

The girl froze when she saw him, and Jaril saw terror on her face. Hefting an impatient sigh, he squatted and frowned down at her. He appeared more irritated than angry, however, and merely rapped his knuckles on her forehead with a firm, "Be still."

Max complied, rather surprised with the lack of reprisal, and watched as he busily set about clearing all traces of them having ever been there. Working quickly but efficiently, he soon finished this task and began to bundle his belonging together in a makeshift pack.

Hefting her over one shoulder, and slinging his pack over the other, he even wiped away any footprints as he carried her out. Jaril did this for a good two or three miles; traveling slowly but steadily, and making sure there was no sign of their passing.

She tried to keep a close watch on which way they were headed, and had been doing an admirable job despite the circumstances, when the dakreeth suddenly lurched forward into an incredibly fast sprint. The girl was jostled and lurched uncomfortably as he sped across the jungle floor.

Again, she made an attempt to watch their passage, but the ground was a complete blur beneath her now. And, to make matters worse, he began taking strange twists and turns through the trees, seeming to have a specific heading in mind. As they traveled deeper and deeper into the jungle, Max became hopelessly lost. Even as the suns slipped below the horizon and the sky grew dark, he kept on. After what seemed an eternity, Jaril finally skidded to an abrupt halt. Max could feel his labored breathing and wondered if he was in pain again. Lifting his nose into the air, he seemed to scent something familiar and deliberately turned to walk down a specific path.

Vaguely, Max wondered how in the hell he could see anything in the pitch black. The small moon that had replaced the suns shone down on them with some light, but not enough to do her any good.

Still though, the dakreeth seemed to know exactly where he was headed and soon came upon an empty shack. His people had built these small huts throughout their territory as a temporary respite for hunting parties who needed an overnight shelter. Inside, there were usually some supplies left over from whomever had last used it. As a courtesy if nothing else.

This one was no different. There was a discernible fire-pit in the center, as well as three furred sleeping mats with some aging bedding underneath. Several old, makeshift tables and trunks lined the walls and contained jerky, tea leaves, and some dried medicinal herbs as well.

Jaril grunted in satisfaction as he let his pack slide off his shoulder. Max felt herself being lifted and stiffened as he set her on top of one of the furs. She was frightened, thirsty, hungry, and her ankles and wrists were painfully red and raw from the bindings. He didn't untie her, though. Rather, he set about making another fire while she tried to catch his eye. Only when he had a steady flame going did he return his attention back to her.

"Mmph," she grunted, squirming to show him her discomfort.

Jaril tilted his head again and studied her. Finally, he shrugged and scooted closer, reaching out to undo her gag.

"Please," she begged as soon as it fell away. "Untie me." She twisted around and wiggled her hands to show him her pain. "Please. Hurt."

The dakreeth glanced down at her wrists and saw the irritated flesh. It looked painful, but he hesitated. He really didn't have the urge to chase her down should she try to run away.

Granted, she wouldn't get very far before she was picked off by something, but he was still loathed to lose his prize. Finally, though, he shrugged again and undid the complicated knots that held her. Her gasp of relief was entirely audible as the cords fell away.

"Thank you," she murmured, gingerly rubbing at the skin around her wrists.

Jaril widened his eyes. She gave him her thanks? Even now? This was becoming curiouser and curiouser. Unexpectedly, he found that he wanted to examine her himself. Aside from killing them and, less commonly, taking captives, he'd never really gotten to see a human up close for any extended amount of time. Much less a female one, at that.

Max shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. He wasn't really doing anything to her, but his steady gaze made her uneasy all the same. Then, her stomach rumbled. Audibly. She saw his pointed ears twitch at the sound and an amused expression colored his exotic features.

"Hoongry?" He asked, cocking his head.

She nodded, watching him warily. "Yes."

Jaril returned the gesture, along with another toothy grin, before pointing to the brightly feathered fowl that still hung from his waistband. "I cook food."

Surprised, the girl watched as he made short work of cleaning and spitting the jungle bird, before setting it to slowly roast over the fire.

After, he made himself another dressing for his side with some of the leftover herbs he'd taken along with him, as well as those he'd found in the hut. When he took the old wrapping off, Max was startled to see just how much the wound had improved. The skin was no longer swollen and it looked as if the majority of the infected tissue had drained.

Jaril seemed to realize he was much better as well, if his happy grin spoke for anything. He ran a finger over the stitches, before slathering some fresh healing salve on them again. When he'd finished tending to himself, he came towards her and did likewise for her scrapes and scratches.

Surprised again, Max could only stare. So far, he was hardly behaving like the savage brutes his species was supposed to be. Rather, many of his mannerisms seemed similar to hers. Unsettling, really, how similar their behavior was.

Once more, he seemed to sense her staring. Jaril used some of the water in his pouch to wash his hands off before coming towards her again. This time, however, his intent was different.

Horrified, Max began her struggling anew when he began to smooth his hands over the soft pinkish skin of her shoulders, arms and stomach. Jaril also marveled at the striking difference in her coloring, but found that it was hardly unattractive. With an unconscious half-smile, he slowly ran his fingers through her curly auburn hair, and couldn't help but think how pleasing the color and texture was.

Growing bolder, he attempted to pull her sports bra down to see if her breasts were similar to the ones of the women back home. When she let out a frightened squeal and frantically began to beat at his arms and chest, he tilted his head in confusion and backed off. Strange. The females of his village usually enjoyed having their breasts caressed and fondled. Were human women different in that respect?

As he thought on it further, a wry smile crept across his lips. Likely, even if they weren't, this girl probably wouldn't be receptive to any sort of sexual advances at the moment. Especially from him. Well, at any rate, it didn't matter either way. Silly of him to even think of it, really. He certainly wasn't about to stick his cock in her.

His expression was detached and studious as he did these things to her, and she could detect no apparent malice, but it made no difference. Max didn't want his hands on her at all. Ever.

"Stop!" She cried, trying to kick at him. "No touch!" Reverting to childlike speech, Max fervently hoped she'd be able to get her point across.

Jaril growled a soft warning as she attempted to strike him. "Be still."

"No! No 'be still'! Want home!" The girl shouted at him, tears beginning to leak from her eyes once again.

She was frightened. And unhappy. That much was apparent. Again, Jaril felt a bit badly for her, but he had no intentions of setting her free.

"No. No home." He replied, pointing at her then jerking a thumb towards his bare chest. "Mine."