her, and for her body to be reluctant to work because of it. But rather than finding a spot to sit down to rub at her shoulders, neck, and arm, she gets right to work. I peer in her direction and wait for the murmurs. The angry mutters of my name. The curses on my dam and sire… but they do not issue forth from her lips.
Instead, she laughs. “I feel like I got run over by a truck!”
The women near her laugh too and chime in to share a litany of where they are feeling pains. Then some of them take this sharing as an opportunity to stop working, to sit, and complain bitterly. Normal behavior.
Isla though keeps on moving rock.
If I wasn’t watching her so closely, I wouldn’t see the hitch in her movements. The grimaces she makes would go unnoticed—because she’s smiling even as her face contorts. Another rock hits the wagon bed courtesy of her effort.
She’s sore; she isn’t stopping. I am impressed. “Isla?”
“Yeah?” Then she turns and sees me. “Hey, Bash!”
Her features brighten at the sight of me. Today she wears a well-fitted blouse, and stretchy-comfortable bottoms with reinforced knees, inner and outer thighs, and colorfully patched calf sections. The whole outfit showcases her body and entices the imagination, and if Gracie lent her this outfit, she should be beaten.
“Here,” I say, shoving the jar I brought into Isla’s hand. “Muscle salve. It will help with the soreness.”
Isla looks stunned. “Wow, Bash, thanks.” She peers at the jar’s contents, a primarily green mixture made from a variety of soothing herbs. When she tips the glass container, the salve sluices stickily to the other side of its housing, leaving a trail of ground leaves and natural alkaline solution. She watches it, a furrow in her normally smooth human brow, like a forehead frown. “Um, normally I can put on stuff like sunscreen and lotion no problem, but I can barely lift my freakin’ arm.” Her face clears, and she offers me a smile. “I'll find some help and be right back to return this, hang on.”
I catch her at the collar of her shirt. “If you’d close your mouth, I will be able to inform you that I’ll be the one to see to your needs. I vow I’ll be quick.” I tug her sleeve back, baring her shoulder. My fingers rasp over her flesh; my senses receive a shock at her softness. I have to ignore the almost electrical charge that hits me care of touching her here. It happened yesterday too, and my tail seemed to like getting shocked. It kept making contact with her.
I took care of that problem though. I soaked it in anti-bonding spray half the night. The rest of the night, I devoted myself to wondering what a chatterer like Isla did when she wasn’t working. If she didn’t speak to someone, I half-expected she’d shrivel up and blather miserably, wasting away with only her own company.
Of course, that led me to wonder if she was alone. Perhaps she has a male at the preserve.
The very idea saw me slinging back half a bottle of anti-bonding spray.
“Does that line work on a lot of ladies?”
“Hmm?”
No, she can’t have a male. I’d have smelled him on her. Sharply, I inhale her—and relax. Only Isla.
“Your promise that you’ll see to their ‘needs’ quick.”
“I’m efficient. If you hold still, I can finish in a blink.”
She snickers.
I tug her towards myself so that I can lean over her and peer down at her face with narrowed eyes. “Why do I get the sense your question is doublespeak? You should be grateful I went to the trouble of chewing this for you,” I grumble.
“You what?” She tries to duck from my hands.
I catch her sleeve and shake her until she stands straight. Nearby hobs shout protests, but I spread the blades of my tail and wave them slowly as my tail curls around Isla and myself.
I slather the salve—a mixture of herbs prepared by manducation and my saliva, to her muscles, and she winces.
I halt. “Does this hurt?”
Her shoulder curls in until it nearly touches her neck, forcing my thumb to brush her cheek. She makes a face I cannot read. “No…”
“Then cease with your squirming.” My movements are brisk and clinical. When I’m finished, I drop my hand (and bare my teeth when my hand only responds to my command after much reluctance to leave her skin) and step back.
Isla stands rooted to the