Chapter 4 Creature, Being, Human, Female
FOUR
CREATURE, BEING, HUMAN, FEMALE
Darolus
I gently place the human down on the floor at the edge of the pool.
Small and fragile, the creature’s limp body settles easily on the hide I’ve placed there: the rugged coat of an animal I killed long ago.
The human is smaller than that creature, by a considerable amount.
Its fur will offer her body some cushion against the hard ground.
I tilt my head to the side, assessing. I have never seen a real human before, but I have seen pictures of them all over the city.
Shaped like me, except much smaller and with two legs instead of a tail, I can only surmise I am looking down at a female, as she is delicate in appearance and has pronounced mounds on her chest, long black hair, and a vividly colored mouth.
Shifting to her legs, I take hold of one with each hand and spread them apart.
They are covered in a kind of fabric, perhaps armor.
When I notice they bend in the middle and at the bottom, I test those joints as well, being gentle as I explore her strange mobility.
I do not want to hurt her before I know why she is here, but if I have a chance to know my enemy while they are unaware, I will take that chance.
Whether she is an enemy or not, I will find out once she wakes up.
After testing her arms, and taking a moment to pet her silky hair, I turn away from her and go above, where the orb rests in one of the cracks where sunlight shines through. Awakening it, I take it back down below with me, hoping it will be able to tell me more of the creature in my nest.
The orb launches into the air and floats above her, scanning her over with a red beam. “Homo sapiens female, fully grown, Caucasian mixed.”
“How do I wake her?” I ask after staring down at the human female for several long, contemplative minutes.
She is smaller than I expected a human to be.
I thought the creatures were closer in size to my kind—though, after seeing fake humans around the city, I knew the largest pictures of them could not be true. But she is not large at all.
I am not good with small things. I tend to break them when I am not paying attention.
The orb scans her again. “She is breathing. Her heart rate and temperature are within average range. If she is sleeping, a nudge will wake her, otherwise she will rouse eventually on her own. If she is unconscious, or has been put under, she may wake anytime between two hours and twenty years.”
“Twenty years? How many seasons is that?”
“Forty seasons.”
I look down at the small human and worry that she may be more than sleeping, since she did not rouse earlier when I carried her down here. “Put under?” I ask next, confused by the orb’s wording.
“Put under means to be rendered unconscious by drugs, either those of legal or illegal categorization. Without updating my systems to Pro, I cannot scan her further for a more accurate diagnosis. Upgrade today for six hundred and eighty-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents—”
I snatch the orb out of the air and swipe it off, tossing it over my shoulder in irritation. I lost my original orb long ago, and the orbs I have found since have never been the same.
Lowering over my captive, I take another close look, making sure she is not a robot herself.
I distrust the metal constructs outright.
Despite being warm to the touch, her skin is marred and smudged with dirt.
I flare my nostrils, inhaling; she smells of smoke and, faintly, of blood.
And there is another smell to her, an earthy one I recognize from the places deep beneath the ground, but I ignore it.
She was nowhere near the secret tunnels when I found her.
Flipping her over, I search for the source of the blood I scent, discovering only a couple of drops on the back of her black shirt.
Running my hands over her body, I test and probe for additional wounds, thankfully finding none.
The only wound she seems to have is the one to the back of her head. I test her scalp with my fingers.
A pained groan leaves her lips.
Pulling my hands away, I frown.
She is not supposed to be here.
No one is supposed to be here, not this far away from the forest. I have seen more of the metal skycrafts in the past two seasons than I ever have before, except they have never bothered me until now.
Whether she is from one of them or is part of the reason they are here, I want to know.
I must find out if my territory is at risk.
I look over my shoulder toward the tunnel leading upward out of my nest, where the closest entrance to the surface world lies. Without my help, she is too small to safely climb out of here. If she wakes while I am gone, she will not be able to escape.
She cannot be allowed to escape. A dark rumble brews in my stomach, building into a hiss. Unless I discover why she is here and where she came from, she will never be allowed to leave. I did not build my nest near the others of my kind for a reason.
To those in the forest, I am a monster. One of them except not quite right, something that has never been fully placed—something wrong.
They think I am dead, as all the others like me are.
I would prefer to keep it that way, lest they come after me and disrupt everything I have built.
This is my home, my territory, and so is everything within it.
I will defend what is mine to the bitter death.
If she is an ally of the forest, then she is my enemy. And if that is true… though I will not kill her, I cannot let her go either.
Taking hold of the rope tied to her belt and unraveling it, I coil it around her hands and re-tie it, trapping her within her own restraints. As I do, my gaze tracks back to her hair, and I pause.
I have not seen hair like hers in more seasons than I can remember. Long and black, it is supple around her neck and shoulders, piled underneath her. As soft as cool water running across my scales on a hot day, it slips through my fingers and continues to fall.
Excusing my desire to touch as born of the necessity to learn about my enemies, I lift her hair to my lips, luxuriating in the sensation of it against my skin.
I jerk with a hiss, dropping the strands, coughing, alarmed by the scent in my nose. The crisp, sharp citrus aroma is not one I am used to. I’ve never smelled anything so unpleasant, and I straighten away from her, rubbing my nose.
It does not help. Now smelling it everywhere, I turn away with a grunt of displeasure, but refuse to be driven from my own nest by something so small.
It is a good thing my sense of smell is not as strong as my other senses. An advantage my smaller brethren have over me.
Holding my breath, I pick up the human, then carry her over the edge of the pool and drop her into the water.
When she fails to wake and sinks instead, I pull her back out and sniff her hair.
I flinch, but finding the smell lessened in its citric sharpness, I dip her under once more before bringing her back to the old hide.
Unfortunately, there is nothing nearby to tie her bonds to. Climbing above, I return shortly with a large cement block and tie her rope through the hole in the middle. Making sure her hands are tightly against it, I draw back.
With her resting partially over the block, her arms hugging it because of how she is bound, her cheek pressed against it, she continues to breathe lightly.
After tapping her shoulder and trying to rouse her one last time, I snag the hide with my tail and bring it to my hands, then fan it out and place it around her shoulders. It gets cold down here, especially at night, and I do not know when I will be able to return.
I have failed to hunt for something to eat today—having come across her instead—and my stomach growls as I head for the upward tunnel. Glancing back, I take in her slumbering expression and the black around her eyes.
If she is not awake by the time I return, then I will have to figure out what else to do about her.
I do not know how to take care of a human… My tail coils around me, my misgivings growing. Tearing my eyes off her, I head up the tunnel path and out into the city before I make a choice I might later regret.
At least the space will give me time for my nose to clear of her scent. Pushing the human from my thoughts, I focus on the hunt ahead.