“Ridge, the creets!”
Ridge strode over to where Kalena was sitting, his eyes filled with lazy interest. “They’re just playing.”
“It looks like more than playfulness to me.” Kalena got to her feet, prepared to defend her bird. “Your animal is attacking mine.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly? He’s trying to assault her. Just look at the way he’s chasing her. Stop him, Ridge.”
“I doubt if I could, even if I wanted to. Don’t you know it’s dangerous to come between a male and his female?”
Kalena glared at him, outraged. “Are you saying your creet is trying to rape my little bird?”
Ridge cleared his throat. “They’re a mated pair, Kalena,” he reminded her. “Such behavior is natural.”
“Is that right? Then why is she trying to escape?”
He regarded her thoughtfully. “I don’t know. You tell me. Perhaps she has some wild notions of female freedom.”
Kalena gasped as her bird gave a particularly loud and protesting squawk. She spun around in time to see the smaller yellow creel being tumbled to the ground by the larger bird. The female landed in a crouching position and the male quickly jumped on top of her.
Kalena groaned, finally realizing exactly what was happening. “This is embarrassing.”
“Then don’t watch. I thought you were raised in farm country.” Ridge was already walking back toward his half finished fire.
“I was, but we didn’t actually raise animals. My aunt provided for us by practicing her Healer’s talents. I’ve never seen two creets in quite this sort of situation.” Kalena hurriedly turned her back on the mating pair of birds. “It’s a little on the violent side.”
“Is that so strange?” Ridge asked quietly. “Sometimes things have been a little violent between us, too. The emotions between male and female can be powerful.”
“We’re hardly a pair of birds, Ridge!”
“I’m not sure we’re all that different from other animals. They’re on the Spectrum with us, aren’t they? Our emotions and reactions might be more complex than theirs, but not totally unrelated.”
“There are times when you surprise me with the level of your philosophical training, Fire Whip,” Kalena said a bit grimly as she closed her ears to the triumphant chirps of the male creet.
“Quintel saw to it that I got a decent education.” Ridge sounded offhand.
Kalena wondered about that. “He raised you like a son, didn’t he?”
“Almost. He taught me manners, the ways of trading and the essentials of Great House politics. But this business of being a husband I’m having to learn on my own.”
“On-the-job training, Ridge?” Kalena made no attempt to keep the smile out of her voice.
“Practice and experience make excellent teachers,” he informed her blandly. “And I learn quickly. Are the birds finished yet?”
Kalena glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, thank the Spectrum. Mine doesn’t even look mildly annoyed at yours.”
“Why should she? She knows her role in life. And on the rare occasions when she’s tempted to forget, the male reminds her.”
Kalena spun around, thoroughly annoyed. She opened her mouth to tell Ridge what she thought of him, and then halted as she realized he was laughing at her. His expression hadn’t changed, but there was genuine humor in his golden eyes. She sighed. “Now who’s trying to provoke whom, Ridge?”
He held up one hand as though to ward off her irritation. “I’ll admit there are times when I can see the lure of the sport.”
Hearing a loud splash, Kalena turned once more to find the creets blundering happily into the stream. “My female is trying to duck your male.”
“He’ll probably let her get away with it.”
“Because he’s already had what he wants from her?” Kalena sniffed.
“There’s nothing like a pleasant tumble with the female of one’s choice to put a male in a good mood and make him feel indulgent.”
“You males are definitely a simpleminded lot, aren’t you?” Kalena asked as she stalked over to a saddlebag and began removing some of the trail rations Ridge had packed for emergencies.
“It’s not that we’re simpleminded, wife. It’s just that we tend to think in a clear, straightforward fashion. We’re not like women, who chase their emotions in a hundred illogical circles before coming to terms with them.”
“Did you come up with that bit of wisdom on your own or learn it from some male Polarity Advisor?”
“I could hardly have learned it from a female Polarity Advisor. There aren’t any.” Ridge got to his feet in a lithe, easy movement. “In any event, it doesn’t matter where I learned it. Lately I seem to be getting firsthand demonstrations of the truths of the old sayings.”
“The problem with a man’s interpretation of ancient axioms is that because he tends to think in such a marvelously straightforward manner, he misses all the subtle meaning hidden in them,” Kalena explained sweetly. “In other words, he usually misses the main point altogether.”
Ridge gave a shout of laughter and launched himself forward without any warning. “You never give up, do you?” he marveled.
Kalena was so startled by hearing him laugh outright for the first time that she didn’t think to move quickly enough to escape him. Before she realized what he was about, he had scooped her up in his arms and was striding toward the stream. The creets lifted their heads curiously to watch the humans at play.
Ridge, you wouldn’t dare.”
“I’m not sure,” he retorted with mocking seriousness as he came to a halt at the edge of the stream. “We straightforward thinking types tend to do what we set out to do. It’s hard to distract us. But you can try.”
Kalena clung to him, strangely fascinated by her discovery of this playful side of his nature. She had the distinct impression Ridge wasn’t very familiar with this element in himself, either. It was as if he were experimenting with it as he went along. Learning to be a husband. “How could I distract you?” she demanded.
“You could try pleading with me,” he suggested helpfully.
“Surely a woman’s pleas wouldn’t deflect a strong, straightforward thinker such as yourself.”
“You never know” He waited, grinning down at her, his eyes alight with anticipation.
“I’m not very good at pleading, but I’m willing to bargain,” Kalena told him.
“Ah, this is getting more and more interesting. With what would you bargain, wife?”
“Don’t leer at me like that. I was going to offer to wash your shirts for you.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s about time I did so, don’t you think?”
“The smell of the trail offends you?” he asked politely.
“I wouldn’t dream of implying that you smell like a male creet I was simply offering to bargain for my freedom in exchange for washing your shirts. To tell you the truth, I’m out of clean tunics myself.”
“Hmm.” He pretended to consider the matter deeply. “I suppose it might be a wise idea for both of us to bathe. No reason you can’t wash our clothes at the same time.” He opened his arms.
Kalena yelped as she fell into the stream. The creets scampered out of the way. Closing her eyes, Kalena waited for the shock of the icy water to hit her. To her complete astonishment it was like falling into a lukewarm bath. Splashing to the surface, she flung wet hair out of her eyes and glared at Ridge. The skirts of her riding trousers floated around her legs.
“Lucky for you,” she snapped, “that this stream isn’t ice cold. Otherwise I might never have forgiven you.”
“I may be a simpleminded male, but I’m not completely stupid.” He crouched on the shore, undoing the laces of his shirt. His golden eyes were still lit with laughter. Ridge was obviously enjoying himself. Although it was equally obvious that he wasn’t accustomed to this kind of play.
“You knew the water was almost warm?”
He nodded, rem
oving his shirt. “We’re not that far from Hot And Cold. We’ll be there two nights from now. It’s a town full of hot springs. Some of the water that flows from there retains its warmth even this far away.” He wadded the shirt into a small ball and tossed it to her. “Here. Show me some of your wifely skills, Kalena.”
She reached out to catch the shirt, aware that Ridge was continuing to undress so that he could join her in the stream. A warm flush rose to her cheeks and she quickly lowered her eyes to the shirt. The small embroidered R was very plain on the left shoulder. It occurred to her that Ridge was going to quickly wear out the two shirts she had initialed for him. He rarely wore anything else.
Ridge waded into the stream and over to where she stood waist deep in the water. “I have taken much pleasure in wearing the shirts you gave me,” he said gently. “But every time I put one on I am reminded that I never gave you a wedding gift.”
“Yes, you did. You rescued Arrisa and my other friends the night of the tavern brawl,” she reminded him quickly. Studiously, she ignored the gleam of his strong flanks just under the surface of the water.
“Ah, but you restored the balance later that night, remember?” He smiled crookedly.
Kalena kept her eyes on the shirt in her hand. “Well, yes, but—”
He put a blunt, calloused finger on her lips to silence her. “But nothing. I owe you a gift in exchange for the embroidery work you did on my shirts. Someday I shall even the balance.”
Kalena looked up into his intent gaze and saw the lambent warmth that waited for her there. She blinked and made an effort to shake off the curling tendrils of emotion that were beginning to swirl in the air around her. Deliberately, she summoned a lighthearted smile. “I’ve got news for you, husband. Throwing me into this stream has only put you much deeper into debt. You won’t be able to buy your way back into my good graces very easily”
“A man can only try,” Ridge said with a philosophical shrug.
“This particular man had better try very hard,” Kalena informed him. “Or he’ll be eating a cold meal tonight.” She began to rinse out the shirt, very conscious of Ridge’s nakedness. Her own clothing was a limp, soggy weight on her body. Soon she would have to remove it.
“You have me completely intimidated now, woman.” With a sigh of pleasure Ridge let himself sink under the surface of the water.
Kalena was glad that night had almost fallen. The darkness would allow her to undress in the water without revealing too much of herself. She slipped out of her clothes and gave herself up to the pleasure of the bath. She half expected to find herself having to fend off Ridge’s playful antics, or perhaps something more serious, but he seemed oblivious of her nudity.
Totally oblivious.
When he climbed out of the stream a few minutes later, turned his back on her and went to fetch a towel from the saddlebags, Kalena realized she actually felt rather disappointed. The female creet chirped from the shore and Kalena glanced at the bird. “At least you got assaulted by your mate. All I got was dunked by mine,” she muttered.
The bird chirped again as if in commiseration.
At first he thought the dream had awakened him. When Ridge opened his eyes several hours later, highly charged erotic images were still swirling through his brain. His body was taut with the aftereffects. The dream had been a very vivid one. In it, he had given in to the urge to make passionate love to Kalena that he had denied earlier in the evening when he had left the stream. In the dream he had carried Kalena out of the water, laid her down on the sand and covered her soft, yielding body with his own aroused one. She had responded to him with a desire that matched his own, welcoming him into her sweet, intoxicating embrace.
She was the one who could quench the flames.
Ridge shook himself free of the seductive images and sat up slowly in his pallet. Something was wrong out there in the darkness and it had nothing to do with erotic dreams.
He looked across the short expanse of distance to where Kalena lay asleep in her trail pallet and saw nothing alarming or out of the ordinary. He heard the faint rustling movement from where the creets were crouched together in sleep and realized it was just such a soft sound that had been responsible for waking him. Even as he recognized that fact, he heard the unmistakable chirp of alarm from the male.
Ridge was on his feet almost as quickly as the bird.
“Ridge?” Kalena’s sleepy question floated through the shadows. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure yet. Stay close to the fire, Kalena.”
She didn’t argue. He heard her push back the pallet cover, but Ridge didn’t turn to glance at her. His full attention was on the male creet who was chirping angrily. The female squeaked once or twice in alarm. With the sintar in his hand, Ridge stepped into his boots and moved towards the birds. He had worn his trousers to bed, having had the unsettling experience of more than once being dragged out of sleep on the trail to face danger stark naked. He went forward to face whatever was disturbing the creets.
The only thing he felt confident about was that whatever was out there wasn’t human. The creets had no real fear of humans. From the way they were reacting it had to be one of their few natural enemies.
Fangcat, Ridge thought. Or, if his luck had really turned sour, a sinkworm. Let it be a fangcat, he decided as he headed toward the creets. He had enough on his hands without having to deal with a sinkworm.
The male creet screeched in fury and challenge just as Ridge cast his silent vote in favor of one of the big-toothed cats. In the shadows he saw the larger bird thrust the female behind itself with a rough movement of its beak and then whirl back around to face the enemy.
A full-throated hissing sound slashed through the darkness. In the pale red moonlight Ridge saw a dark reptilian shape the size of a male creet leap to the top of the jumble of rocks near the stream. Its tail was a barbed hook that curved up and over its scaled back. The head was all faceted eyes and gleaming fangs. It crouched on four scaled legs, its broad feet heavily clawed.
Ridge stared at the creature in startled astonishment. So much for trying to choose between fangcats and sinkworms. His luck wasn’t that good tonight. This was neither of those familiar denizens of the dark. The animal crouched on the rocks prepared to attack the creet was something out of a nightmare. Ridge recognized it from a description he had once been given by an old trader. It had to be the almost legendary hook viper.
But that was impossible. Hook vipers were creatures of the deepest mountain caves. Humans rarely saw them.
But the reality of the situation was something Ridge didn’t have time to debate. What appeared to be a hook viper was poised for attack only a few feet from him, and he remembered hearing that the skull of the viper was as solid as a rock. The only truly vulnerable part on the head was the eye, but the odds of sinking the sintar into it at this range were minimal. There wasn’t time to dig the bow or the dart sling out of the saddlebags. He would have to wait for the leap.
The male creet was screeching, its piercing challenge as deafening as the viper’s hiss. The female waited in the shadows behind her mate, her head darting frantically about in anxiety. If forced to do so, she too would fight, but her instinct was to rely primarily on the male’s greater strength and ability.
Ridge worked his way closer, trying to narrow the gap between himself and the viper as much as possible before the creature made its killing leap.
With another savage hiss, the hook viper sprang toward its prey. For an instant its vulnerable underside was exposed. Ridge hurled the sintar and hoped for a scrap of trader’s luck.
At first he couldn’t be sure the sintar had struck its target. Then the great reptile snarled in fury and pain and jerked violently in midair. It landed in an awkward sprawl in front of the male creet, who promptly ripped at the already bleeding belly with one clawed foot. With its beak it went for the dying viper’s throat. The creet was more than happy to finish what Ridge had started.
“By
the Stones,” Kalena whispered in shock as she moved quickly up behind Ridge. “He’s tearing that thing apart. I had no idea creets were carnivores.”
“They’re not. But that doesn’t mean they can’t draw blood.” Ridge put his arm around Kalena’s shoulders and pulled her back toward the fire. “Let’s get out of the way. The last thing any sane man does is approach a creet while the bloodlust is riding it. I’ll retrieve the sintar later.”
Kalena was willing enough to be turned away from the sickening sight of the creet taking its vengeance. “They always seemed like such gentle creatures.”
“They weren’t given claws just for decoration.”
“No, I suppose not. But when I think about how much they love to eat flowers…You’re all right?”
“I’m fine. We’ll just stay discreetly out of the way over here by the fire and wait until all the commotion dies down.”
“What about my creet?” Kalena tried to glance back over her shoulder. “I don’t see her.”
“She’s staying out of sight, too,” Ridge explained with a flicker of amusement. “She knows better than to show herself until her mate has calmed down.”
“I hope you’re not going to draw any more parallels between human and creet female behavior.”
“Why not?” Ridge asked lightly as he settled her down beside him on a rock near the glowing coals of the fire. From the shadows came the unpleasant sounds of shredding muscle and skin. The creet was making a thorough job of its vengeance. Ridge hoped the sintar didn’t get lost in the process. “It seems to me you could learn a few lessons from your creet.” He was rewarded with an elbow in the ribs for his observation. “Ouch!”
“You deserved that. I’m not in the mood for such jokes.”
Ridge rubbed his bare ribs and said with sudden seriousness, “I wasn’t joking. The male creet’s job is to take care of the female and they both know it. Didn’t you see how he stood between her and the viper? He would have died protecting her. In return for that kind of commitment, the female is willing to defer to her mate’s occasional idiosyncrasies.” He looked down at Kalena. “It’s the way of the Spectrum,” he added gently. “All things must be balanced, including the roles of men and women.”