And her life concerned the stalking and killing of Bakwaniri wherever she could find them.
So their nomadic lives put many weeks between their meetings, though there was a ubiquitous quality to the ape-man for at a distance day or night, Harkon had heard his terrifying call thunder through the trees. It came like the challenging roar of a bull ape, but with something distinctly cold and reptilian echoing at its base.
Harkon had wondered how the man had come to be with the tribe of apes, and thought that perhaps he was of the Bakwaniri since their skin was also pale compared to hers, but his perfectly formed limbs and flesh refuted that. More likely they had kidnapped him for slavery, and after his escape the man-like apes had adopted him.
That would explain his war on the masked men, and why he derived such pleasure from their deaths.
Harkon knew that life in the jungle was fast-paced and death came quickly. The fact that the ape-man had not attempted to kill her suggested he would not—unless that was to be another one of his grim jokes.
Regardless, Harkon cultivated a positive relationship with him when she could and whatever his history, play to their one connection: an insatiable hatred for the Bakwaniri.
If the worst happened, and he ever fell upon her with eyes gleaming and canines flashing, then she would have to hope his lack of knowledge for weapons beyond his own knife would give Harkon an opening to sink a spear or blade.
Being the child of a massacred people kept her from too much optimism, and on a certain level she was expecting an attack. It was still possible that the ape-man would grow tired of playing, and his hunger for killing would override their mutual respect.
Time would tell.
The night ape watched Harkon as she moved stealthily through the thick undergrowth beneath his hammock of vines.
He had only recently returned from lands near the southeast border of Goro’s territory after searching for some sign of Magnuh. In the years since his mother’s death, the night ape had resisted the foolish notion of tracking the bull-elephant down and winning vengeance against the giant in battle, for there could have been but one outcome.
Yet in that time, he had not seen the beast, or come across any recent track, so Magnuh had likely met a deserving end.
Gazda shuddered to think of the creature that could have slain his old enemy, and the thought always left him feeling chill, and rather curious, so from time to time he looked for the behemoth’s trail.
A satisfied smile twisted Gazda lips as the female stalked below him unaware. He had not communicated with Harkon face to face since their first meeting, preferring to stalk her as any predator might. He had no wish to feed upon her, but he was fascinated by the skills she used to stay alive in the predator-filled jungle.
He was also embarrassed that he was unable to engage her in speech because of the limited ape language he knew.
But whenever he came across her trail, he’d follow quickly, and if possible overtake her. Not to slay her, but to show that he could if he so desired. It was a predator’s way to kill, and for one to spare another was a sign of power and mastery. That way he felt she would trust him more, if they ever did come to meet again, and try to exchange more than awkward sounds and looks.
He had also taken to leaving meat upon the trail after he had consumed its blood; certain that the woman hunted more Bakwaniri than food, and also because he knew from his experiences with the young apes that such a gift would make her view him more favorably.
She rewarded him by showing that she had mastery over fire when she summoned some of the hot, yellow creatures from a small pile of wood simply by striking some objects together.
He had been unsettled by this casual display of power, and then appalled by her brutal treatment of the meat that she burned over the flames before chewing up charred strips of it.
She was a powerful fighter, indeed, to have that skill, and Gazda would have to steel his nerve if he ever wished to learn more about inviting the fire.
At other times, if he were lucky enough to smell her trail after he had slain a Bakwaniri, Gazda would retrieve the corpse and hurry to get ahead of Harkon where he’d leave it for her to collect her trophy. When he’d first done it, he hid nearby to watch, and had been pleased to see the woman freeze before warily stalking toward the body like it was alive.
That gave Gazda such delight that he began positioning the corpses in lifelike positions, and each time he had been rewarded by Harkon’s cautious reaction.
He found this funny to watch, and it gave him an opportunity to study her reactions and it was from this that he had come to understand how she used the long sharp stick she carried.
It flew from her hand with incredible power and accuracy.
So for jokes and information, Harkon was a never-ending source of pleasure to him.
And he liked to look at her. He had come upon the woman in various states of undress, and while her skin was dark all over and her body shaped differently to his own, there was no doubt that she also hailed from the night ape tribe. He was pleased to see that she had no lesions or wounds on her body like the bone-faces, and that there was no hair growing around her nose.
Gazda would find a hidden place and watch if he was lucky enough to find her as she bathed, squatting there in a stream and lifting parts of her clothing to wash what was beneath—but always with her eyes vigilant
