Chapter 6
- Riley -
The Big from earlier limps across the ice toward us, dark blood dried along its side where Nator’ax cut it.
The second one is larger, its shoulders rolling under thick grey hide with each step.
They move slowly, watching us. They’re not charging, but they move as if they’re keeping that option open.
I feel my stomach tighten. “That's not good,” I whisper.
Nator’ax doesn't answer right away. He studies them the way he studies tracks or wind direction, calm and focused. It’s the way a hunter looks when he's measuring the world, I think.
“They smell the meat,” he finally says. “And probably us.”
I glance toward the fire where we cooked the strange turkey-Smalls earlier. The smell must still hang in the air.
The larger Big lifts its head and sniffs, fogging the cold air. Then it takes another deliberate step toward us.
“So what we do?” I ask as I look quickly around. There’s not a lot of places to run.
“If they return in a pair, it is because they hunt better in pairs. I’d prefer not to fight them. But I may have to,” Nator’ax says.
That sounds reasonable.
He looks toward the wide glacier valley behind the saucer. Then toward the long line of shadow where the ice splits into a narrow crack running across the snow.
“I saw a crevasse earlier,” he says. “It was long and narrow.”
I follow his gaze. The snow there looks smooth, almost innocent. But I’ve heard somewhere before that a glacier hides its dangers. The upper layer of snow can look smooth, while the ice underneath is cracked and deadly.
“I’m lighter than you are,” I point out. “I’ll grab these and run.” I grab as much raw alien-turkey meat as I can carry in both hands. It’s all cold and greasy in my hands.
“I can deal with this,” Nator’ax growls, showing me his sword. “Chances are, I only need to wound that new one before they’ll both run.”
“Chances are,” I say, “that they’ll kill you. I saw the way that one moved earlier today. It was fast.” I’m painfully aware that a thick covering of fur doesn’t have to mean that an animal is cute and harmless.
“Run straight for the crack,” Nator’ax says. “Drop pieces as you go. Make them follow.”
“And you?”
“I'll stay out of sight for them. Make sure they follow you.”
That doesn't sound much safer than being bait.
The ice trembles with each step the dinos take as they come straight for us. The glacier creaks and cracks, and there’s an unpleasant noise from their long, pointy claws as they penetrate the ice. Fingernails on a blackboard would sound pleasant by comparison.
I look up at Nator’ax. His expression is serious but calm, the way it always is when something dangerous is about to happen. He’s not easily intimidated, this caveman.
“Try not to die,” I tell him.
He kicks at the ice with the toe of his sandal, testing it. “We’ll both try.”
I suppose that has to be good enough for now, so I take a breath and start running. The cold air burns my lungs as my thin, soft boots crunch across the snow. I toss a piece of meat behind me and hear it slap onto the ice.
A roar explodes behind me.
I risk a glance back.
Both Bigs have started after me.
Great. Also, shit. Because they’re fast. I may not make it to where I think the crevasse is.
I throw another chunk of meat and run faster, relieved that my boots aren’t slipping that much. The glacier stretches wide and white around me, and the wind whips my hair across my face. Behind me, the thunder of heavy feet grows louder, and I swear the ice bounces like a trampoline under my feet.
I can hear Nator’ax roar something. One of the Bigs veers toward him.
That may be a good thing, seeing as that one is by far the fastest. It leaves the wounded one following me directly.
The snow ahead dips slightly, and I know the crack must be close. My heart pounds harder. I throw the last piece of meat and sprint the final distance.
The crevasse appears suddenly in front of me, a long gray line cutting through the white glacier. It’s got to be six feet wide at the narrowest. But the grayness is an illusion. The crevasse is filled with loose snow, and my only hope is that it will carry me and not the dino.
I can't slow down. The only way is forward. My boots hit the snow crust covering the narrowest part of the gap. For one horrible second, I imagine the snow collapsing under me.
But the snow is hard and old, and it holds me easily.
I reach the other side and spin around just as the wounded Big charges after me. Its massive weight slams onto the fragile snow bridge.
The snow is mixed with ice, and it breaks open with a soft crack and drops away all along the crevasse.
The creature roars as the surface collapses beneath it. Its front legs vanish into the blue, icy darkness as it drops into the crack, claws scraping helplessly against the ice walls. For a moment, its head thrashes above the edge, jaws snapping with ugly, brown teeth.
Then it slides deeper into the crack with a furious bellow before it just drops away.
I tiptoe up to the crevasse and stare down at it, breathing hard. The crack is uneven, and the dino is solidly wedged in. But it’s still moving, so it can look forward to a slow, cold death down there. I don’t relish that, but there’s not much I can do.
“At least it worked,” I say to nobody.
Nator’ax stands on the far side of the crevasse with the second Big. It looks to me as if the dino is scared of him and hesitates to attack.
The larger predator paces up to the edge of the crack, roaring at the trapped creature below. Then its yellow eyes lift and fix on me.
I freeze.
“Oh,” I whisper. “No, no. Stay where you are. How do you think your friend ended up down there?”
Behind the Big, Nator’ax comes slowly closer. His sword glints in the pale sunlight.
“Riley,” he calls. “Stay where you are.”
“That was the plan,” I call back.
The Big turns its head between us, uncertain which target it wants more. Or maybe unsure if it wants a quick kill and a nice snack or to get revenge on Nator’ax for injuring its mate.
Nator’ax glances down the length of the crevasse, measuring the distance. Then he starts running. Straight toward the gap.
“Wait,” I shout. “That’s too wide!”
Too late. He reaches the edge and launches himself across the crevasse in one powerful leap. For a moment, he seems to hang in the air above the black opening. Then he lands beside me with a heavy thud that sends snow spraying and makes the ice shake.
The Big roars in frustration on the other side.
I stare at him. “You crazy.”
“Sometimes,” he says calmly. “But if I am crazy, then so are you. I’ve never before seen anyone try to bait a Big like that.”
“Well… yes,” I concede, because the evidence is pretty clear. “All right. We both crazy.”
The creature follows us along the opposite edge of the crack, pacing and snarling.
“Follow me,” Nator’ax says and starts to walk along the crack.
We start walking along the crevasse together, keeping a careful distance from the edge. The Big stalks us from the far side, its heavy claws scraping the ice as it tries to find a crossing.
After a while, the crack begins to narrow. Nator’ax stops and studies it. “This will work.”
Before I can ask what he means, he scoops me up in his arms.
I gasp as my feet leave the ground and I start to grasp what he’s planning. “Oh but you see now this is really truly crazyyyyaaaieeee!”
Nator’ax doesn't answer. He just runs up and jumps.
The leap across the narrow gap is quick and effortless. One moment we’re on one side, the next we land smoothly on the other. His strong arms dampen the impact for me.
The Big roars behind us, then slowly turns tail and lumbers away the same way it came.
“Very smart Big,” Nator’ax says with satisfaction. “It knows it’s outmatched. And there’s no need for us to kill it. We have much better food from the turkeys.”
“That’s right. Um.” I realize he’s still holding me.
And he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to put me down.
His arms are strong and warm around me, even through the layers of fur.
I feel ridiculously small against his chest, like I weigh nothing at all.
Which I guess I probably don't to an eight-foot-tall caveman alien built like a tank.
“You can put me down,” I say after a moment.
He keeps walking. “I’m sure I can, thank you. Yes.”
I don't exactly mind this mode of transport. The glacier wind bites at my face, but tucked against him like this, I’m surprisingly warm.
I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid strength in the arms carrying me.
It's nice. In fact, it’s very nice in a way that surprises me.
Not just because he smells great, and because his stripes have a suede-like texture to them, or because he’s carrying me in a way where he’s not touching anything inappropriate, just nearly.
No, it’s because of him. I really like him.
He could have exploded after I fiddled with the saucer and pretty much stranded us here.
But he hasn’t said a word of blame, only been helpful, and kind, and strong.
I can learn to like that. As in, really like it.
By the time the silver curve of the saucer appears again between the ice walls, the Big has finally stopped following us.
Nator’ax carries me all the way back to the crevice where the ship lies tilted against the ice. Only then does he stop and look around. “No dangers nearby.”
“Set me down?” I suggest. “But first…” I pull his head to me and give him a little kiss on his icy cold cheek. “Thank you.”
He carefully sets me down. “You’re very welcome, Riley.”
He looks toward the fire we built earlier. The melted ice has barely changed. The saucer is still stuck exactly where it was.
“Well,” I sigh. “That didn't work either.”