Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Istare longingly at the hot spring as Eryon carries me back to his bed. My skin is sticky, and I’m fairly certain we are glued together in some spots. I was insistent I could walk, but he was determined about carrying me.
I wonder what is in the sack he had retrieved from where the man in the woods had tossed it earlier, hoping it’s food. My stomach lets out a loud growl in agreement. He playfully tosses me on the bed, and I let out a laugh.
As he stokes the fire, I watch the embers drift up with the woodsmoke and out the small hole in the very top of this particular cavern that seems to be his bedroom. I’m amazed at how comfortably he lives in such a primitive set up.
He dumps out the bag to reveal several fat silver fish. I’m thrilled to see them since we have been living on a plant based diet. It reminds me to ask, “Do you eat meat?”
“Rarely,” he replies. “I will tonight, rather than waste them as they’ve already given their lives. But I am the guardian of the forest. I can easily survive without killing those under my protection.”
Running my hands through the soft furs on the bed, I ask, “What about these?”
“I will take the pelts of animals that have fallen, that they may continue to have purpose. Sometimes things are given to me in offering.”
“Like when you help people?” I ask, remembering Sita’s story of the time her family had been saved from freezing by the Migoi bringing firewood. Though I hadn’t believed it when she told me, now I know it was true.
He throws me a half smile and admits, “When they deserve it. But my first responsibility is the earth and its creatures.”
I walk over to sit next to him as he roasts the fish over the fire. He hands me steaming bits, and I burn my fingertips and the roof of my mouth in my haste.
He smiles warmly at me as he passes me a waterskin. The simple dinner is delicious and made all the better for the company. We talk about our lives and laugh at how different they are. I’m surprised, and tell him so, about how up to date he is on modern life and current events.
He rolls his eyes at me as he explains he hears travellers talk and has even seen television through people’s windows, which he assures me is the biggest waste of time he has ever witnessed.
I laugh and try to explain the plots of some of my favorite shows and movies to him but even I have to admit, they seem inconsequential when I try to put them into words. My life seems like another world entirely sitting here in the cave next to him. One that I’m not sure I want to go back to.
“I’ll show you something worth watching,” he says, tugging me away from the fire by the hand after we finish eating.
He leads me through another series of branching tunnels until we emerge out into a veritable oasis. I look around in wonder at the lush plants surrounding us as the warm air wraps around my skin.
The mountains curve inward, forming a hidden basin where a rare microclimate blooms. Sheer cliff walls rise on all sides, arching toward each other to create a natural dome. Their jagged edges part at the top, revealing a skylight of shimmering stars.
I throw my arms wide and spin in a slow circle, taking in the beauty around me.
Eryon sweeps me up and spins me, a delighted smile on his face. Shyly he asks, “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it! Eryon, it’s magical. What is this place?” I ask, breathless as he sets me back down on my feet.
“A sacred place. I’ve never brought a human here before. This is the heart of the mountain,” he explains as he leads me to the center where a hot spring bubbles up.
Under the light of the moon, I can make out where rocks have been fit together to form a pool.
I realize the heat of the thermal spring is trapped within the cliff walls to create this space.
The botanist in me longs to return during the day to study the unique plants that must thrive here.
The ethnobotanist in me wants to know how the people of the region have used these plants.
Did they have access to them or had this miniature world remained a hidden secret? Did the Migoi use the plants here?
But right now, everything is awash in silver and grey under the night sky in a beautiful monochromatic painting. As I turn back to face Eryon and see the stars reflected in his eyes, I feel something take root in my chest. My breath catches as I see the same feelings mirrored back to me.
I try to push it down, try not to let it bloom like the lush foliage around me.
Because as beautiful as this place is, I know I can’t stay here.
No matter how much I want to. Not only can I not fall in love with a Yeti, but if I don’t somehow find my way back to town and finish out my expedition, I’ll die.
The inborn error of metabolism that claimed my mother’s life will claim mine, too.
The Silene vitalis carries the precise enzyme my body lacks, the key to breaking down the protein slowly poisoning me.
I need the next few years to extract it and perfect the delivery mechanism in order to save myself, and others like me.
And I won’t discover it hiding away in a cave with a Yeti.
Tomorrow I’ll ask him to bring me back to town—before these feelings can blossom. Although I think it might already be too late.
I let him lead me into the steaming water, gingerly lowering my body into the inviting heat. The stones are smooth below my feet as I make my way to the built-in stone bench. He pulls me against his chest, and we recline in the gentle current, watching the stars cross the sky above us.
“You’re right. I’ve never seen a better show than this,” I whisper.
His soft laugh rumbles beneath my ear. He reaches over and snags something off a plant, then leathers it up between his hands.
“Oh, a soapberry!” I exclaim, excited to have one of my questions answered. The Migoi do use the plants here.
I groan as he massages my scalp with his strong fingers, thankful to finally be washing away the marking from earlier. It had been hot at the time, but I was tired of the sticky dried patches. He seemed to suffer no such qualms, happily sporting spiky spots of clumped fur.
I reach for the soapberry and then stand on the bench behind him to return the favor. As I lather the soap and wash him, I marvel at the way his body changes with weather or under threat. How his size and shape can morph as needed, even his body temperature.
In the warmth of the pool, his skin is almost slick. As I run my soapy hands over his neck and shoulders, kneading the tight muscles, I realize this is the closest I have seen his flesh to my own. He could almost pass for human right now. A very, very large human.
Or maybe that is just my secret wish, that he could be a human and we could be together outside this cave system. But his size would never allow him to blend in, and one look at his luminous eyes and slightly too large teeth would give him away. He’s just not quite human enough.
He melts into my touch as I massage down his back. With a groan he snags me with one massive hand and brings me to stand in front of him again. Taking the soapberry back from me he lathers it between his hands, staring into my eyes as he runs them up and down my body.
My skin flushes under his attention, the slippery glide of his fingertips lighting up my nerves as they slide up and over my breasts, then back down along the curve of my belly.
With each pass, he brings his hands lower until I spread my legs in anticipation, desperate for him to touch my aching center.
I thrust my breasts into his hands, my breath catching every time he almost gets to where I need his touch the most, only to bring his hands back up to pull at my pebbled nipples again.
Frustrated, I reach out to grab his hands, but he pulls me into him with a chuckle. He brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, “My greedy winter star. Let me show you again. Let me show you are worth saving.”
I nod, willing to agree to anything just to get him to touch me. He tugs me deeper into the pool. The moon has passed over the natural skylight of the basin, dropping us into darkness with only the pinprick of stars visible in the night sky.
“It’s dark here,” I whisper shakily, the memory of the avalanche’s crushing blackness closing in on me.
“It is never dark where you are,” he whispers fiercely, his voice a lifeline. “You are the light.”
The earlier feeling in my chest blooms despite my best effort to keep it from flowering. I can’t stop the tendrils of love from growing, even knowing that tomorrow I have to end this. I need to leave. But I deserve one night, I tell myself—just one night.
“Show me,” I say with my lips, but what my heart says is, “You’re my light, too.”