8. Cagan

8

CAGAN

I can't get her out of my mind, that beautiful, mysterious woman living alone in the wilderness. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I find myself returning to watch her every few days, hidden amongst the trees. I know it's foolish, even a bit desperate, but I'm powerless to resist the magnetic pull she has on my heart.

As I settle into my usual spot, my eyes eagerly seek her out. There she is, a vision of untamed beauty amidst the lush foliage. She's aware of my presence, as always. I feel the heat of her glare even from this distance, those captivating eyes narrowed in suspicion and annoyance.

A grin tugs at my lips. She reminds me of a fierce little rabbit, all bristling fury and defensive posturing. It's adorable, really. She probably doesn't even register me as a threat.

I watch, fascinated, as she kneels to gather plants, her deft fingers plucking leaves and stems. With a start, I realize she's collecting weeds - but upon closer inspection, I see they're the edible kind. Is that what she's been surviving on out here? Foraged greens and roots?

My brow furrows with concern. I've seen her hunt a few times, taking down small game with a crude spear. But her makeshift weapons are hardly suitable for larger prey. She's clearly skilled, resourceful, but everyone has their limits. How much longer can she sustain herself like this?

An unfamiliar protectiveness surges through me. I long to help her, to share my knowledge of hunting and crafting proper tools. But would she even accept my aid? Proud and independent as she is, I suspect she'd rather starve than admit weakness to a stranger.

Lost in thought, I almost miss the sudden movement in the undergrowth near her feet. Something is wriggling amidst the bushes, the leaves shaking with furtive activity. Instantly alert, my hand flies to the hilt of my knife.

She notices it too, her body tensing like a coiled spring. With wary fascination, she leans closer, trying to discern the source of the disturbance. I hold my breath, ready to intervene if the situation turns dangerous.

Scenarios race through my head - a venomous snake, an angry badger, some other hidden threat. Every muscle in my body is primed to leap to her defense, to shield her from harm, even as my rational mind scoffs at the absurdity of it all. She's a capable woman, not some helpless damsel. And I'm just a curious fool spying from the shadows.

Still, I cannot relax, cannot tear my eyes away from her crouched form as she carefully parts the foliage to peer inside. My heart pounds, blood rushing in my ears. I'm poised on a knife's edge, torn between the desire to protect and the knowledge that she wouldn't welcome my intrusion.

But if anything dares to threaten her, if that bush conceals anything that might bring her harm, I won't hesitate. Spying or not, I'll gladly blow my cover and face her wrath if it means keeping her safe.

So I wait with bated breath, ready to spring into action should the need arise. Because while she may not know it, while she may never accept it, this fierce, beautiful, captivating womaHorror floods my veins as I catch a glimpse of the creature lurking in the bushes. The sinuous body, the distinctive patterning on its scales - there's no mistaking it. A massive anaconda, poised to strike at the unsuspecting woman.

"Snake!" I scream, abandoning all pretense of stealth as I burst from the treeline. "Get away!"

She whirls around, eyes wide with shock as she takes in my sudden appearance. For a split second our gazes lock, a fire igniting between our eyes. Then the anaconda lunges, its gaping maw aimed straight for her throat, and the moment shatters.

With a gasp, she throws herself to the side, rolling through the dirt as the huge serpent's fangs snap shut on empty air. I'm already moving, closing the distance between us in a few frantic strides.

As the anaconda coils to strike again, I lunge forward and seize it by the thick, muscular body just below the head. The beast writhes in my grip, its scales cold and rough against my palms, but I hold fast. With a roar of effort, I slam the thrashing creature against a nearby tree trunk, stunning it momentarily.

But the anaconda is far from defeated. In a flash, it whips its coils around my torso, squeezing with the inexorable force of a vice. Air rushes from my lungs as the pressure builds, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.

Through the haze of pain and oxygen deprivation, I dimly register the woman crying out in alarm. I can't focus on her now though, can't afford any distractions. This is life or death, and I'll be damned if I let this monster take either of us.

Gritting my teeth, I wrestle one arm free from the crushing coils. My fingers scrabble at my belt, finally closing around the hilt of my hunting knife. With a triumphant snarl, I wrench the blade free and plunge it directly into the anaconda's beady eye.

The serpent hisses in agony, its grip slackening just a fraction. It's enough. I rip my other arm loose and, with single-minded brutality, begin stabbing the knife into the snake's head over and over. Hot blood splatters my face, my chest, as I pour all my strength and rage into each savage blow.

Dimly, I'm aware of the woman watching in shocked silence, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and grudging awe. I must look a fearsome sight, drenched in gore and locked in mortal combat with this monstrous foe. But I can't spare a thought for her reaction, can't let myself wonder what she must think of me.

The anaconda's movements are growing sluggish now, its powerful body shuddering and twitching as the life bleeds out of it. With a final, wrenching effort, I bury my knife to the hilt in the ruined crater of its eye socket and twist savagely.

The great serpent goes limp, its coils falling away from my battered torso as it collapses to the forest floor. For a long moment I remain poised over the carcass, chest heaving, knife clenched tight. The heat of battle still sings in my veins, adrenaline and primal instinct drowning out rational thought.

Then, slowly, the haze of bloodlust recedes. I become aware of the aches and pains of my abused body, the sticky wetness of blood cooling on my skin. And I remember her.

I turn, seeking out the woman who has consumed my thoughts these past weeks. She stands a few paces away, her posture tense and wary, eyes flickering between the dead anaconda and my blood-spattered form. I open my mouth, though I have no idea what to say. How do I explain my presence, my actions? How do I bridge the chasm of mistrust and fear my violent display has surely widened?

"Wait!" I call out as she begins to back away, her gaze darting towards the treeline. "Don't go, please!"

But it's too late. With a final, inscrutable look, she turns and flees, her lithe form quickly swallowed up by the dense foliage. I'm left standing alone, breath ragged and heart aching, the weight of missed chances pressing down on my shoulders.

My eyes fall to the lifeless anaconda, the prize I fought so hard to claim. It's a valuable kill, enough meat to feed the woman for days if properly butchered and preserved. But how can I give it to her now, after she witnessed the savagery I'm capable of? Will she even accept a gift from the crazed stranger who burst into her life in a whirlwind of blood and violence?

I don't know. But I have to try. I can't let this chance slip away, can't let her disappear back into the wilderness thinking me nothing more than a dangerous brute.

With grim determination, I set about the messy task of gutting and skinning the anaconda. As I work, I try to formulate a plan, a way to approach her that won't send her running again. I'll leave the meat at the edge of her camp, I decide, with a note explaining my intentions. A peace offering, a gesture of goodwill. And maybe, if the gods are kind, a chance to start anew.

It's a slim hope, I know. But that's all I have. Because in the short time since this woman entered my life, she's making me feel things I have never felt before, that I didn’t even know it was possible to feel just from spying on someone. And I'll do whatever to prove myself worthy of her trust, her company.

Even if it means facing down a hundred anacondas, I won't give up now, too soon…