Chapter 10 #4
We leave the cave together and go to the spring that trickles from a fissure in the rock and has carved a relatively shallow channel across the mountain.
There is no deep river to swim in, which would be nice.
I wonder if one day, a city will spring up along the banks of the lower river, which is big and broad and reminds me a lot of the one at home.
Thousands of years from now, a disillusioned girl like me might take flight from this planet, finding it boring and confining.
Life might be one long cycle of making scary things safe, then getting bored of them.
Anyway, I shiver in the cool of the elevated air as I squish myself and my suit about in the water. I wonder if I could use the ashes from the fire and whatever remnants of fat I might be able to harvest from any prey we catch to create soap.
For now, I have to be content with rubbing myself with the spring’s flow, which makes goosebumps stand up all over me.
Drako keeps watch, glancing at me from time to time, but otherwise staying true to his word and ensuring nothing sneaks up and eats me while I don’t even have clothes on to make me a little unappetizing and chewy.
“We should harvest grasses,” I say. “Or maybe some leafy branches. A bed of some kind would be very nice.”
“We will see what we need when Thor returns,” Drako says. “If he comes back alive, he may bring some creature comforts with him when he does.”
I am thoroughly excited by that prospect.
Even if he brings back just one ration bar, or a pillow, that would be amazing.
I know that is probably hoping for a bit much.
Most of the ship was destroyed in the crash.
The odds that some soft bedding might have made it through intact is silly. But I hold onto hope anyway.
We retreat to the safety of the cave when we have both washed and drunk as best we can.
I spread my clothes out on the rock face surrounding the cave and hope that the sun will be enough to dry them.
I end up doing much the same thing with myself, using the warmth of the rocks and the heat of the sun to dry me off and lull me into one of those simple states of animal satisfaction that I haven’t gotten to enjoy in a long time.
Drako knows how to fuck. He knows how to breed.
I already do not know how I would exist in a world without him.
I hope I am not being stupid and falling in love.
I know I am not supposed to be doing that, for so many reasons.
He’s probably not as into me as I am into him.
We’re all just fucked up and traumatized, and desperate for some kind of comfort.
Sex is comforting. So I’m not in love with him.
Or anyone. Because that doesn’t make sense.
The day fades, my suit dries and I put it back on.
Drako makes some fresh vegetables for dinner, and I raid some nearby trees for more eggs.
I want to suggest that we wait for Thor to eat, but I want Drako to eat.
I’m worried that he’s not getting sufficient calories to maintain his body and his mind.
I care about Drako a lot. He’s not the same man to me now that he was when he first captured me. Back then, I hated him with all my might. I thought he was the incarnation of a monster. But he was playing a role then…
Right?
I watch him while he cooks, and I worry that I might be deluding myself. Is Drako the merciless warlord, or the sweet survivalist? Unfortunately, I think I already know the answer: he is both, and one side does not exist without the other.
“How much longer do you think Thor will be?”
“He may not be back until the morning,” Drako says.
“Really? He’d stay out all night?”
“I doubt he would choose that, but it’s possible he wouldn’t have any choice if he finds himself face to face with something best not crossed. Do not worry about him. A warrior like him can take care of himself.”
“He’s not a warrior. He’s a firefighter.”
“That might be what he does when he is living in a civilized world,” Drako says. “But out here, he is a warrior and a barbarian. All men, faced with nature, become these things.”
He’s quite the philosopher when he wants to be. I think he understands this situation so much better than I do. He knows how to orient his mind to the challenges that are besieging us.
I feel lost.
But I feel less lost with him.
We eat dinner, and I wish that I had gone out and gotten some soft bedding, because now it feels like Thor won’t be back any time soon, and I want a comfortable bed.
My gods, what I could do with a sheet. I could work miracles with one.
A sheet and some rope, and I could make a hammock and sleep in that.
“What do you look so worried about? Don’t fret for the man,” Drako says.
“No, I was wishing we had a comfortable bed,” I reply. “I really miss bed, you know?”
“Bed is a sacred space,” Drako agrees. He surprises me by agreeing that way. I would have thought he’d be all about sleeping on bare rock and being hard and rough and survivalist and whatnot. He really is more sophisticated than he lets on.
“Is it too late to go out and forage?”
“Yes,” he says. “Another uncomfortable night, and tomorrow we will attempt to make a bed.”
“Promise?”
He smiles at me indulgently, as if I am a girl wheedling for his help with something. I feel small for a moment, and the terrifying thing is that it doesn’t actually feel bad. It feels safe.
“You can use me as a bed tonight,” Drako invites me, extending an arm and drawing me down on top of him.
“I don’t think we should do this,” I mumble, even as I start to snuggle into him. He is warm, and as the night cools, that is a valuable trait.
“Why shouldn’t we?”
“Because the rest of the world is going to come for us soon enough, and then they’ll want us to be who we were, and that’s…” I trail off, mumbling as my eyes start to feel a little heavy.
“You’re evil and bad and you enslave people and you were going to enslave me and make me watch the bodies of my crew burn and you let me be treated worse than an animal and…” I itemize all his sins in a soft mumble as he snugs me close and pats my back in soothing slow circles.
“I know,” he rumbles, his voice deep. “What a terrible big scary jarl I am. What danger this sweet, civilized girl is in…”
I fall asleep as he agrees with me. What an absolutely fiendish approach to my objections.