She shook her head more adamantly, no doubt guessing correctly as to his order. His roar of anger at the insult had her lifting her hands as she recoiled from him. He thrust the root into her hands. She drew it to her chest, staring down at it as if uncertain what she wanted to do with it. Rhyst held in an aggrieved sigh.
She would comply eventually—when she got hungry enough.
To his surprise, she did not crumble in the face of her hunger. All through the day, she carried the root with her, her fingers curled around it as he climbed higher into the mountains. Even when the storms moved in with the heavy seasonal shower soaking them, she didn’t do more than curl into herself with a glower of displeasure.
The biggest reaction he caught from her was when he accidentally kicked over a nest of montrachians, her fingers digging into his fur until they pressed firmly against his muscle. He stepped away from them, making certain that they didn’t envenomate him, but didn’t understand why she jumped in his arms. She was perfectly safe high above the small animals.
These offworlders certainly were a skittish species. Perhaps they were like the montrachian, small and harmless in appearance, but possessing some sort of natural defense when cornered. It was probable. He doubted any species would survive long enough to travel among the stars if they didn’t have some natural method of protecting themselves, even if they didn’t like to acknowledge it. Tak’sinii females, after all, liked to pretend that they were too civilized to defend themselves. He could easily believe the offworlders were among others who considered themselves too evolved or civilized to fall upon such methods unless absolutely necessary.
Some might argue that the female could have used it to get away when he captured her, but by his reasoning, she didn’t see him as a threat and so had no need to harm him. She was trying to help his escape. That was the most logical reason to account for why she did not attack him or force him to release her as a female of his kind might have done if stolen away from her people.
Momentarily satisfied with the explanation he wove, he continued traipsing over the ground, wet soil making the stones slick. The female’s breaths came out in fearful pants until at last he found a comfortable stretch of level rock to set her down upon. He gestured to her with one hand, but before he could gesture to the ground and make clear his intention to have her stay, she tapped her chest and spoke.
“Charlie,” she said slowly and tapped her chest again.
He blinked at her until he realized what she was doing. She was trying to communicate with him. He extended his palm to her and said her name carefully.
“Cha’lii,” he greeted her.
Her lips twisted at the way he said it, but she nodded anyway, though they both knew his pronunciation wasn’t quite right. She approached and raised her hand to him, imitating his gesture. He couldn’t help being charmed by her effort.
“What’s your name, Merlin?”
He frowned at the ridiculous moniker she had given him.
“Not Merlin—Rhyst,” he enunciated slowly as he placed his hand against his breast and repeated his name again.
To his amusement, she screwed her face up and made him repeat it several times before she even attempted to offer back his name to him. When she did, the accent was completely wrong and the growls flat. He touched her arm in greeting before scooping her up and setting her in the mouth of the cave overhanging the rock on which he stood.
“Cha’lii, you stay. Cha’lii, stay,” he repeated, pointing emphatically to the cave.
The female’s eyes rolled, and she pointed to the floor of the cave. “Charlie, stay,” she agreed reluctantly.
He gave her a severe look and nodded as he hefted his eminit. He had seen tracks as they approached, suggesting there was a fat dan’shival nearby. They would eat well that night. He backed away several steps and turned another sharp look on her, checking to make sure that she had not moved from the spot where he left her. She stared back at him without an ounce of guile. The third time he did it, her lips started to twitch with the beginning of a smile.
He growled ill-temperedly at her. It was unbecoming of an a’sankh, but he felt he