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“Hey -” he tried to push himself up but felt too light-headed for it. “Wait! Please!” Luckily enough he could hear her rustling around and chattering at him in the language so foreign to him. That eased him a bit. But was only a comfort that he wasn’t alone.
Fears were quickly spiraling as he feared he might lose his arm or his life to this bite. They didn’t have such poisonous spiders where he came from. Could it be deadly?
If so, what a finding!
If he survived he would certainly have to write about this.
Owen’s mind took flight as he envisioned himself presenting a specimen of deadly spider and his accompanying paper at the International Fair. He answered questions to an audience of many. Speaking of intense pain and emesis upon being bitten. A woman fainted and he was forced to stop his presentation to resuscitate her.
“This presentation is not for the faint of heart.” He reminded the audience - which was the jungle he was actually sitting in.
The woman came to and was pushing some flowers at him. Owen reached for the offering, “Ah thank you, my dear.” He smelled them and admired the red colors. “Beautiful, thank you.”
Wait? What had she been gesturing at him? Something with his mouth?
“Oh are you a presenter too?” He mimicked the motions she had made. “Are they edible?” Owen shrugged and pushed a flower into his mouth and chewed. He was after all an adventurer! Surely he could taste a flower.
His teeth ground delicate petals which released a sort of bitter taste in his mouth. His nose scrunched up in response. “It’s not good.” He laughed but swallowed it anyways. He offered the others back to her. “No more thanks.”
Owen seemed to be noticing the woman more intently. He cocked his head. “You look familiar.” He smiled to himself and picked a flower from the palm of his hand. “Like a goddess I met in the Dakannore jungles once.” Owen tucked the flower stem into the woman’s curly hair at the side of her face.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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She frowned when he tried to push the rest of the flowers back at her. Something apologetic and disappointed in his tone. She knew the flowers were bitter, but she needed him to eat more of them. She forced the rest of the red flowers back into his hand, chirruping at him more insistently.
There was something in the way her was staring at her now, almost as if he was studying her. Her ears fell off the side of her head and her tail swayed slowly behind her shoulders. He slipped a flower into her hair and she sighed loudly. Crushing the rest of the flowers she held in her palm, she pulled his canteen away from him and dumped the wrinkled petals into the remains of his water. Unsure of what he had done with the top, she placed that flat of her hand over the opening so she could shake the contents.
She held the canteen out and up towards his mouth.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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The woman was holding his canteen up to him indicating he should drink. His nausea and the vertigo did not want him to drink or eat anything else. Like an infant not wanting whatever food was being offered, he turned his head away and pushed at the canteen with his hand.
“No. I can’t.”
Though he refused her, Owen kept his eyes on the beautiful catgirl. Light filtering through the canopy above seemed to light the crown of her head behind her ears creating a halo-like effect.
“Are you a goddess?” He asked delusional and suddenly wanting whatever goddess nectar she was offering. He reached for the canteen but his hand made a detour to touch her face. He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb under the hollow of her eye.
His other hand inflamed and throbbing made him wince and interrupted that momentary trance. He accepted the canteen from her and drained thirstily. He tossed the canteen down and let his head fall back against the tree. His eyes fell closed. The urge to fall asleep was almost too strong to resist.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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She chattered at him encouragingly when he pushed her away. Adamantly, waving the canteen in his direction. He was still looking straight into her, but she wasn’t sure if he actually saw her. Her ears fell off the side of her head when he spoke again. Though, she couldn’t understand him, she heard a sort of wonder in his tone, and a question. She chirruped and nodded to whatever he said. As if to say yes, of course, to whatever you just said. Now, drink!
Again, she wiggled the canteen, but he reached for her face instead. Her body froze, but her brow pinched in the middle of her forehead. Ears flickered to attention and her tail swayed across the forest floor. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when he finally retrieved the drink and consumed the contents at once.
As she stood, she pat his shoulder as if to tell him that he was going to be fine. The canbya should help him sleep through the rest of the poison.
While he dozed, she made a fire. Collecting dry tinder wasn’t the easiest thing to do in the rainforest, but lucky for him he now had an expert guide. She traveled to the river before it got dark. While she rinsed and refilled his canteen she noticed a school of peacock bass fighting admirably against the current. Setting the canteen on the bank, she cocked her head and watched the fish. Ears twitched at attention as she slowly stepped into the river. The catgirl didn’t need much more than her hands to catch a few of the decent sized fish and throw them on the river bank where they flopped helplessly.
With her prizes in hand she returned to the makeshift camp where she had left the man. She rummaged through his belongings until she found a knife that would be good enough to clean and gut the fish. She sat by the fire and watched over the man as he slept off his feverbite run-in, lazily cooking the fish skewered on long sticks.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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When he woke, the sun had gone down. Though the dense forest was dark even during the day, it became pitch black at night. And the sounds changed as the daytime critters went to sleep and the nighttime critters came to life. There was a campfire already made that chased away some of the darkness in this little portion of the jungle. The woman he had hallucinated was crouched near the fire. Smells of cooking meat reached him. He focused his mind and oriented himself correctly, remembering that she wasn’t a conjuring of his imagination but had been the express reason that he had been bitten by the spider.
All her noises and gesturing had distracted him before he could safely capture the creature for later study.
His bag - opened! - lay at the corner of his vision. He shoved himself up on an elbow and jerked his head towards it. His things lay strewn across the jungle floor.
“Hey!” His voice was hoarse for want of water. He turned his attention to the woman. The blade of his knife glittered near her feet. “Hey!” He pointed a finger at her. His arm trembled somewhat muscles fatigued from fighting the poison. “That’s mine!”
Hadn’t he said that to her earlier?
Yes. About his watch.
He gathered his strength to push himself up farther and even made it to his feet with some staggering effort. He felt weak and spent as he might after a night of hard drinking. His shirt clung to him soaked in sweat. “That’s mine.” He said again of the knife at her feet, swaying as he accused her of stealing.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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He would still be suffering the effects of the poison had it not been for her diligent care. She’d even filled his canteen. Brought him food. Her tail tapped, quick and irritated on the ground behind her. She waved him off with a brush of her hand. Whatever he was trying to claim she hadn’t taken, simply borrowed. Ungrateful and selfish. Unattractive qualities for such an attractive man.
Sit down she demanded of him, watching him sway as he made his way towards her. It will be awhile before your strength returns. Even though the demands were lost on him she continued to speak. Unlike the chattering noises she usually made at him. She made no move to figure out what he was trying to reclaim, merely thrust his canteen towards him.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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“Thanks.” He muttered at her before sniffing at the opening of the bottle. Smelled like water. He tasted it experimentally and then drank deeply when the taste didn’t offend him.
Owen eased himself down in front of the fire next to her. He sighed and stared at the wound on his hand. “Nasty spider bite, eh?” He asked her holding up his hand to show her the progress of the bite. “Pretty bad, huh?” He sighed again scrunching up his face to help his point. “I suppose you have no idea what I’m saying.”
He stared at the fish as it browned over the fire. While he considered how he could more easily establish common ground with her. “I’m Owen.” He said patting his own chest with his good hand. “Owen. And you?” He pointed to her. “What’s your name? Hey look!”
He barely waited for her reply before he leaned over to pick up the journal he had been keeping of his travels. It was a large leather bound book. He unwound the leather piece that kept it closed and pulled open the flap. He pulled out several pieces of paper and unfolded them. Maps.
“I’m Owen.” He repeated and then pointed to a small continent on a map. “I’m from Eskra.” He dragged his finger over the map showing a trajectory. “I traveled on a boat all the way to here.” He poked at the roughly drawn isles. “The Veridian Isles.” He poked at a more specific location. “Dakannore.” He then fanned through some pages of his journal where between scrawling paragraphs and bullet-style note taking, he had painstakingly drawn pictures of the flora and fauna and creatures he had come across in his journey. “I’m writing a book about my travels. About Dakannore.”
He pushed the book at her for her to flip through if she was interested. He watched the way the fire threw dancing light and shadows over her face and bare shoulders. His face grew hotter but it had nothing to do with the heat from the flames.
“It’s beautiful here.”
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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“Owen,” she repeated, testing the word on her lips. It was strange, but she didn’t hate it. She noticed then the way he kept gesturing to himself. Oh! It finally clicked with her. Her face brightened in the firelight as she smiled wide. “Owen,” she said again, now pointing at him. “Owen.” Once more and she giggled, tail swaying behind her shoulders.
She leaned closer to him when he started unfolding various maps to show off to her. She listened to him, uncomprehendingly, though she recognized some of the shapes on the map he was currently showing. “Eryra,” she exclaimed, ears twitching as she pointed to a island slightly larger and directly west of Dakannore, their current whereabouts. She continued, pointing out the individual pieces of the Veridian archipelago. “Macrilan!” Another gasp. “Laine.” She giggled again.
It was as she was pulling the fish away from the fire that she realized that earlier when he had been giving her his name, he possibly asked for hers as well. That seemed right to her. She took the book from him, flipping through pages of unrecognizable text and pretty drawings while she tried to think of what the Den Mothers used to call her when she was younger. She ran her fingers over a skillful drawing of a water lily.
“Jules!” She said suddenly, as it had just occurred to her. She pressed a finger to the middle of her own chest. “Jules. Ah...Julianna!”
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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She became more distracted by the journal and maps. He watched her finger move to each of the isles and she identified them by name. The way she pronounced them was slightly different than the way things were said back home, but easily recognizable to him. He kept smiling and nodding to encourage her. Finally, they had made some common ground. The delighted giggling noises she made left him feeling like she was less a threat than he had first assumed.
He watched the perfectly browned fish with something like hungry jealousy. His eyes darted back to her when she started speaking again. She identified herself. Julianna.
He pointed his index finger at her, “Julianna?” He asked testing out her name. “Jules? I like it. It’s very pretty.” He complimented her with a smile and thrust his hand out at her for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”
When she didn’t take his hand immediately, he simply grabbed hers and shook it vigorously up and down smiling at her all the while. He released her hand as he eyed the fish she had removed from the fire. “Is that ready?” He rolled his eyes upwards as he considered how to ask for food. He used the most universal sign he could think of. With his thumb touching the pads of his other fingers, he brought his hand up to his lips and tapped the fingers against his mouth “I’m hungry.” He pointed at the fish and then did the gesture again. “Can we eat?”
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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