“Are you building a fire?”
Despite the warmth of the jungle air, there was something reassuring and civilized about the idea of a fire.
He tilted his head, then nodded. “Fie-uhr,” he agreed.
“That you understood?” she muttered. He was obviously learning her language much faster than she was learning his.
Even though she had tried to reproduce the names of the plants he had taught her, her throat just wasn’t equipped to make those deep, growling sounds. He’d had to resort to sign language when he told her that he was going to hunt. Or at least she hoped that’s what he meant when he mimicked plunging his knife into something.
Now, another squeal echoed through the jungle, followed by the loud thrashing of bushes. It sounded scarily close, but the vegetation was too thick for her to see anything. Mr. Tiddles climbed up on her lap and patted her cheek reassuringly, but she couldn’t help worrying.
What if something happened to Tarax? The thought made her heart skip a beat—and it wasn’t just because he was providing her with guidance, she acknowledged. Or even that she was insanely attracted to him physically. Even though she had only known him a short time, something about him drew her to him like a moth to a flame.
He belongs here and I’m going back to Earth. Stop being ridiculous, she told herself, but she still sighed with relief when he emerged from the jungle, a carcass slung over his shoulder.
“Oh thank goodness you’re back.”
He flashed her his fierce grin, then dropped the body he was carrying to the ground. It had a small head and a long, round body with short, stubby legs. It might have looked ridiculous, except for the oversized tusks projecting from its lower jaw. She decided that it somewhat resembled a wild boar—that is if boars had long, blue fur.
Tarax wasted no time, but quickly and efficiently began skinning the animal. Jane had to look away. She preferred her meat from the supermarket, thank you very much. And yet she couldn’t help but long for a change from the fruit, no matter how delicious. Gathering her courage, she went to join him.
“Can I help?” she asked tentatively.
Tarax shook his head, already gutting the animal. He removed one of the organs and offered it to her expectantly. She backed away so quickly she tripped over her own feet.
“No! I mean, thank you very much, but I just can’t.”
He frowned, then shrugged and bit into the morsel with sharp white fangs. She shuddered. Mr. Tiddles had been watching intently and now he patted Tarax’s leg, looking up at him with big hopeful eyes. Tarax laughed and handed him a piece. The two of them split the rest of the organs, although Tarax offered each one to her first.
When they were finished, Mr. Tiddles rubbed his round little belly, found a sunny spot by the pool, and curled up and went to sleep. She watched him enviously.
“I hope you plan on cooking some of that,” she muttered, looking hopefully at the pile of wood.
Right now, Tarax seemed preoccupied with cutting the meat into long thin strips.
He had placed the skin of the animal to one side and as she studied it, she wondered if it would be a sturdier replacement for her leaf outfits. She drew a little closer, fighting back a wave of squeamishness at the traces of flesh that still clung to the inside. But when she touched a tentative finger to the fur, it was as soft as it appeared.
“Tarax,” she asked tentatively. “Can you show me how to prepare the skin?”
She realized as soon as she spoke that she had no way of knowing whether or not he knew how to work with the fur. He certainly didn’t seem to have any desire for clothing himself.
He had looked over to her as soon as she spoke, and she carefully picked up the skin, holding it in front of her in an attempt to mime her intentions.
“I thought maybe I could make some clothing out of it.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she was suddenly sure exactly what he was thinking. He would be perfectly happy if she remained naked.
“I would feel more comfortable if I had some clothes,” she said firmly. “Please?”
He shook his head and grumbled something, but he abandoned his carcass and came to join her. Choosing a relatively straight-edged rock from the ones that lined the edge of the pool, he showed her how to scrape it across the underside of the fur to remove the last traces of flesh.
She had secretly hoped that asking him for assistance would result in him actually doing it for her, but it was only fair that she should participate. Doing her best to hide her disgust, she set to work. By the time he had finished butchering the boar thing, the inside of the skin was as clean as she could make it. He inspected it, then gave her an obviously approving smile. A feeling of satisfaction washed over her. Maybe she could handle this wild environment after all.
He started threading the strips of meat he had prepared onto long thin branches, and buoyed by her success with the fur, she went to help him. Now that it was in strips, the meat was similar enough to something she would have bought from the supermarket that she didn’t mind assisting. As soon as all the meat had been skewered, he took the laden branches to where the water from the pond trickled out the far side, and washed them thoroughly.
Picking up an assortment of rocks, he struck them against each other until he found two that created a small spark. A short time later, a fire was burning merrily in the cleared circle. He retrieved one branch of meat strips and hung it over the fire. Her stomach rumbled as the delicious smell of roasted meat filled the clearing.
By the time he
