Episode Twenty-Eight Wishes

A lliana

I had no idea what a travois was. When the monks construct it in record time, I realize it's like a sled made of sturdy branches. One end is designed to drag on the ground, the other end is held in someone's hands and pulled along.

Before we left, Azael collected the lasers from the men and the hover. They're lodged next to him on the travois.

The process is brutal for all concerned. Poor Mirron, even though he's unconscious, I wonder what all the shaking and juddering is doing to his poor body. Hasn't he been through enough?

The males who are pulling him are struggling. Most of the monks are tall and muscular, but not nearly as thickly built as the minotaur. Pulling his heavy body over rough terrain is taking its toll.

They swap off regularly, though, so it seems there's always a fresh male to do the work.

I've changed my thoughts about the monks from my initial impression. The poo-hurling threw me for a loop. It was so… barbaric.

Now I realize how much more civilized it is from the laser weapons of the Up Above. These people show their irritation with a dramatic gesture and then move on. Today, only two weeks after the confrontation outside our cave, there is no animosity. I don't think the idea of abducting me even crossed their minds.

I'm mated to my pack, and that's that. Even the way Azael bargained for our help seemed reasonable. Up Above we use money. Down Below they trade for what they want. In this case, meat and information. That seems more than a fair trade for my mate's life.

My mate's life. At first, I was thrilled to hear Mirron still lived. I focused on nothing more than the logistics of getting him back to our cave so we can wait for Dek to return.

Now, though, worries bombard me. What if Mirron dies after one more bumpy shake over a thick root as we jog through the underbrush? What if he dies while we wait for the brothers to return to the cave? They're killing and dressing cows, as Mirron instructed. How long could that take? And coming home laden with meat will take even longer than the trip to find the herd.

We stop for a quick break and I try not to let my resentment show. These monks are doing me, doing all of us, a kindness. I shouldn't begrudge them a moment to breathe and take a sip of water.

"You need to drink," Reese says as he hands me his waterskin.

I control my urge to bat it away and demand we get moving. Besides, there's no reason to hurry when the Energy Transfer, whatever it is, requires Deklan's presence. He might be lazing next to a pond taking a nap for all I know.

"Thank you," I say as I grip the skin and take a drink.

"If there's any life left in your male, the Transfer will bring him back." Azael's voice is kind.

I want to ask a thousand questions. Is this magic? How is it performed? But I simply hand Reese his waterskin back. Nothing he could say would give me peace of mind.

The tracker! I remember I'm a liability, carrying this tracker under my skin. The moment I feel it with the pad of my finger, I remove my tunic, pull up the sleeve of my undershirt, and ask the healer if he'll cut it out.

His eyes widen, but when I explain what it is, though it's clear this sounds like magic to him. He doesn't hesitate to skillfully use the tip of the knife to cut it out. Azael comes close to inspect it, even sniffing it to try to understand its mechanism.

None of these people have ever seen a working machine before. They have no concept of electronics or computers or chips. I don't bother to explain. There's no reason for them to understand. I simply place it on a large rock and use another rock to smash it a dozen times. Not wanting to assume that I disabled it, I carry it with me until we pass a meandering brook where I toss it into the water.

I'll be happy to never see another human again.

I thought it would take many hours to arrive at our cave because Mirron and I trekked from breakfast until after midday. It doesn't take nearly that long to return, though. Maybe it's because Mirron spent so much time tutoring me on climbing that tree. He insisted I learn, and he was right. It saved my life.

Back at our cave, as the males lay Mirron on our fur pile, I see more than one of them sniff deeply. The furs must reek of our combined scents. A few of them can't contain their urge to glance at me, their eyes filled with envy.

I don't let it bother me. For whatever reason, there are few females down here. Whatever caused the mutations must have made it so more males than females are born. If places were reversed and males were scarce, I'd be jealous too.

I lie next to Mirron's motionless body for long moments, stroking his cheek and plucking hundreds of leaf shards out of his beautiful hair. They must have accumulated on the trip on the travois since he was so close to the ground.

I'm so anxious it feels like my blood is bubbling, percolating, writhing beneath my skin. The only thing that will take my mind off my worries and give me a moment's peace is for me to stay busy.

I ask Kaz to make a fire, then focus on cooking a big pot of stew. How different this will be from the men-only dinner parties my father used to organize. No matter what our age, even when my mother was still alive, we were dressed in child-sized versions of see-through traveling gowns and paraded in front of his cronies.

At the time, I just knew I was uncomfortable. When I turned 16, I realized why those parties always turned my stomach. He'd used us as bait, hoping his cronies would pay good money or favors to have access to our bodies when we came of age.

Bitter hatred wells inside me as I think of how little I mattered to my own parents. I welcome the anger. It keeps me from worrying about Mirron.

After I manage to cut the veg without nicking myself even though I'm distracted, I add it and the dried meat to the pot of boiling water and dried herbs, then rejoin the minotaur in our furs.

Reese removed the moss he'd used for packing and washed Mirron's wounds with water and a soft piece of fur.

Now he lies, barely breathing, under several layers of furs. His normally hot body is disturbingly cool.

"We're going to get you well, Mirron," I whisper into his ear as I gently stroke my hand over his thick shoulder fur. "Somehow, the monks are going to fix you as soon as Deklan returns. You're going to open your eyes and smile at us and take your place at the head of the pack as it should be."

Because I now know how good some of these species' hearing can be, I only breathe the next part, with no sound at all. "And then I'm going to suck your cock and ride you, my big minotaur. Even if you're flat on your back, I'm going to become your mate."

It might not happen. It's probably more of a wish than a reality, but that's okay. I wish it with all my might.